Do You Believe in Miracles? A Texas Triumph

I wasn't sure I was going to have time to blog this week because school's out for the day and I have 652 different things to do and I didn't imagine that the weekend would be very exciting so I didn't think I'd have much to report, but then . . .

TEXAS LONGHORNS.

Oh, y'all.  OH.Y'ALL.

I know we all expect Christmas Day Miracles and Easter Sunday Miracles, but if you didn't believe before, you know now that there was flat-out, bonafide COLUMBUS DAY WEEKEND MIRACLE that happened in Dallas, Texas on Saturday when my beleaguered (read:  really, really bad) Texas Longhorns beat the #10 ranked Oklahoma Sooners in the Red River Shootout by a score of 24-17.  And we were ahead for the entire stinkin' game.

I'm here to tell you that it did not make a LICK OF SENSE.

Now, perhaps there are those of you who had no idea that such a miracle occurred because maybe your weekend happiness doesn't revolve around 20 year olds throwing around a ball.  If that is true, then two things:

1.  That must be so relaxing.

and

2.  "There are people who believe that college football is just a game and to those people I say . . .well, I don't say much because we don't have anything in common." - Melanie Shankle (she is definitely "my people" - even though she's an Aggie.  God bless her.)

You know they should put that on a tshirt.  Guess what?  They did!

Listen.  If you don't know already (and if you don't, you likely already clicked away) my team has had its worse start in 50-something years and the Texas/OU rivalry is one of the biggest rivalries in the history of college football.  As far back as I can remember, when growing up in Dallas, Texas/OU weekend's importance was right behind Thanksgiving and Christmas as an event worthy of gathering your people together and eating and drinking until you were ready to pop.  My parents' fraternity and sorority friends, as well as grandparents, aunts and uncles would come together before and after the game and it was PARTY TIME.  The State Fair of Texas happens just outside the gates of the Cotton Bowl where the game is played.  My daddy would spend all kinds of money after the game at the Baseball Throw booth.  He didn't stop hurtling balls at milk bottles (that seemed to be made out of concrete) until his arm was ready to fall off and we were walking out of there with stuffed animals bigger than our own selves.

But this season, I will admit that I was quite morose when I woke up on Saturday.  My mom and dad were going to the game with my uncles.  All four of them Texas alumni - likely, all four of them just praying there wouldn't be humiliation and that their seats would be surrounded by like minded Longhorns or at least less than obnoxious Sooner fans. (as if there are any.  Oh, I kid)  Mom sent me this photo of her Texas/OU "dates".  And I just about burst into tears.  WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LOOK AT MY DAD AND MY UNCLES REPRESENTIN'? I tell you what, I think my people were ready to take the field.  Oh, my heart.

Well, I have never wanted to be at home so much in all my life because, I always have a flicker of hope, but honestly, I wanted to be of comfort to my people when we lost.  You know, misery loves company and all.   Alas, Joe and I were on our way to a baseball tournament in Hershey, PA and we had to listen to it on the radio.  When we scored first, I looked at Joe like this.

As we got closer to the baseball park and I was supposed to be paying attention to Siri telling me directions, the Horns were up 14-0 and I was pretty much like this:

I am going to be honest and tell you that my 17 year old who has had his driver's license for less than 9 months said, "MOM. BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL!" at least three times on our journey.

Well, because I am not a good parent, I missed the first few innings of Joe's game to sit in my car and listen to the rest of the game.  I alternated banging my hands on my steering wheel and on the roof of my car, blew up my Facebook status with my lonely euphoria, screamed and kicked and generally scared the fire out of families passing through the parking lot.  I was so shocked and so utterly full of glee that I'm fairly certain I looked like this the rest of the day.

This was rather awkward because by the time I set myself up to watch Joe's game, his team was losing by a gazillion runs and yet I literally could not wipe the smile off of my face.  It's true.  I am not a good parent.  I think the other parents thought I was completely coconuts.

Then Mom sent me this.  My people - all of those beautiful, burnt orange, shocked-out-of-their-minds people - singing "The Eyes Of Texas" after the game:



It's insane how much joy this win brought me.  It makes absolutely no sense at all, but it did. And you know what?  In this world of pain and struggle and records of 1 and 4?  I think the good Lord wants us to seize some joy when we can and glory in it.  And I sure did this weekend, friends.  I sure did.

To Coach Strong and the boys, I have to say, "Thanks for the joy, guys."

All the live long day, Horns.  Hook Em.