Just a few weeks after Mack Brown was hired as the coach of the Texas Longhorns in 1998, several business and civic leaders from San Antonio invited him to join his counterpart, Texas A&M Aggies coach R.C. Slocum, for some political glad-handing.
The city was angling to put on its best face in an effort to land the 2000 Republican National Convention and had a number of events lined up with regional and national officials to drum up support. This being the state of Texas, the football coaches of the two biggest universities far outranked the governor—George W. Bush, who earned the presidential nomination two years later—in terms of star power and, importantly, the ability to actually sway hearts and minds.
Such functions naturally turn into photo opportunities, and Brown, Slocum, former A&M coach Gene Stallings and Heisman Trophy winner John David Crow were asked to take a picture together.
“They get us all in line and there’s R.C., John David, Coach Stallings and this Aggie and they all put up their thumbs,” says Brown, hired fresh off a 10-year stint as the head coach of the North Carolina Tar Heels. “I have no clue, so I put my thumb up.”
This is, for the head coach at Texas, very much a no-no.
From birth, those in the state who have parents with an allegiance to either the Longhorns or Aggies know that the thumbs-up is the A&M symbol for the colloquialism, “Gig ’em.” Those with an affinity for the 40 Acres understand how to properly put the thumb, not up, but over the middle and ring finger as the pinkie and pointer extend out to instead form the “hook ’em” hand signal.
“R.C. grabs it and throws it down,” Brown says. “He saved me in my first month at Texas.”
“You can’t do that, they take that stuff seriously! You’re in Texas, they’ll fire you before you get started,” an animated Slocum says, while recalling the same thought. “[Brown] would be on the front page of every paper in Texas if he had done that.”
They do, indeed, take football seriously in the Lone Star State, where nearly everyone has a real story from growing up better than what you read (or saw) in Friday Night Lights. The sport is an unofficial religion that brings millions together each day.
Yet, of all the things the state holds to a high regard on the gridiron, few compare to the bitter rivalry between Texas and Texas A&M, a series that returns this week after a 13-year absence and which has been dividing families (and more) since 1894.
Animosity? There’s plenty of that. Loathe? For sure. Despise, abhor or even detest? That’s more like it for two schools that appropriately mix like oil and water.
For all the outward pageantry, it’s really the bitter, irrational dislike of others—for no other reason than going to a different school—that is most ingrained in such a uniquely American venture. There are 13 FBS programs in Texas, and all have varying degrees of scorn for one another. The reasons vary from the slight to the historical, and are often magnified by the results on the field.
Nowhere does this mutual hostility resonate loudest than between the state’s two flagship universities, Texas and Texas A&M. Separated by 105 miles, one campus is located in the cosmopolitan capital and the other was born of agriculture and engineering an hour northwest of Houston. Though things have generally been friendly and respectful between coaches in both places over the years, the only common ground between the two fan bases is the superiority of the brisket.
If you don’t believe it, all you have to do is listen during a game.
The “Aggie War Hymn” was created to say, quite literally, “Goodbye to Texas University,” which doubles as a derogatory reference to the flipped UT nomenclature the school in Austin prefers. A later verse encourages the sawing off of the Texas mascot’s horns, while you’ll still hear the loudest parts of the “Texas Fight” school fight song come when Longhorns fans in unison say, “goodbye to A&M.”
The thing is, well, both really mean it. The two entities might as well be magnets, best in their minds when repelling each other but, in reality, actually more in sync when brought face-to-face. It’s also what’s made this entire 13-year wait so unbearable for many without a rooting interest.
“It’s a great, storied rivalry. It’s acrimonious and bitter,” said Justin Tucker, the Baltimore Ravens kicker who was born in Houston and grew up in Austin before playing for the Longhorns. “Each team wants to beat the other one so badly so you have those bragging rights to your friends and family throughout the state of Texas and abroad.”
One of the most-played major college football series of all time, the Aggies and Longhorns had been a staple uninterrupted from World War I until 2011. There have been iconic moments, especially given the connection to Thanksgiving, which cements football and family together for many in the state.
In 1993, for example, Texas A&M broke Texas’s longstanding record for consecutive Southwest Conference wins by, naturally, beating the Longhorns. Two years later, John Mackovic’s squad got the last laugh, though, winning in College Station to capture the final SWC title over their rivals. Finding footing together in the Big 12 in 1998, the Aggies fondly recall their only conference title in the league, while those at UT will quickly remind you that Ricky Williams set the FBS career rushing record against A&M (and all but won the Heisman, too) in a big upset win that same season.
Over the years, each school has tried to outdo the other away from the field, too. After Darrell K Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium was renovated and expanded in the late 1990s to a capacity of around 80,000, A&M’s Kyle Field did the same in 1999 with a listed capacity of 2,600 more spectators than Texas. DKR went through another round of modernization between 2006 and ’09 and joined the list of stadiums hosting 100,000 fans.
By no coincidence, a $485 million redevelopment of Kyle Field in 2014–15 saw capacity soar to its present 102,733. Earlier this year when Texas played the Georgia Bulldogs, 105,215 set an attendance record in Austin. There’s no word yet on whether a few lawn chairs might grace some open spaces for the game this week but, with resale tickets averaging just above $1,000, there may be a few more folks in the building for kickoff on Saturday than when the Aggies played the LSU Tigers a few weeks ago in front of 108,852 fans.
In a related note, Texas and Texas A&M are often Nos. 1 and 2 in the country in total athletics revenue, swapping places depending on which boosters saw their school in second place the prior year. For most of the past decade, such a victory was worthy of some hollow boasting and cause for some sniping among those who track West Texas Intermediate past the decimal point. Come Saturday, things can finally be settled on the field like they once were.
“I used to say there’s a different skip in your walk this week. You go through your season and then you have this week,” says Slocum, who saw the burnt orange on the opposing sideline a record 30 times as an assistant or head coach for the Aggies. “I told my players every year, from the tallest buildings in Dallas-Fort Worth and Houston and Austin and San Antonio, to the deer blinds out in West Texas, the week of this game is the most-talked-about topic in the state. [The players] are so fortunate and blessed to get to play in this game, they’ll be talking about it when they become old men. So make it count, make sure they have something good out there to talk about.”
The Longhorns lead the overall series 76–37–5, but it was one they lost that holds the most reverence on both sides.
In the past, it was typically tradition for A&M students to celebrate the arrival of the Texas game by building a large bonfire on campus. The event had grown over the decades to include a multistory structure that often lit up the week of the game with thousands in attendance.
Early on the morning of Nov. 18, 1999, ahead of the game, the bonfire structure collapsed, tragically killing 12 people involved in the construction and injuring dozens more. There was talk between the two schools about canceling the game, but ultimately A&M brass felt strongly about making sure the game went on to honor the memory of those who died in the accident.
“We were playing with so many emotions and, in my career, I never felt more pressure than I did that day to win the game—we had to win,” Slocum says. “I didn’t tell that to the players. They’d been through enough already with all the sadness and everything. But to myself, with all we’ve been through, to go through with a loss in that game … I’m so thankful we won.
“I don’t think the Lord cares who wins football games. But that day, he might’ve cared a little bit because you know there might have been a little divine providence or whatever.”
The Aggies came back from a 10-point halftime deficit to win 20–16 in Slocum’s final victory of the series he had known for three decades. Some of the most iconic, and moving, images of the rivalry came when the Texas band played “Amazing Grace” and the A&M marching band silently exited the field.
“After the game I thought, You know what, this game’s more important [to A&M]. I mean, these kids’ lives, their families, their legacy, are more important than some football game,” Brown says. “As hard as it was for us to lose the game, I understood.”
In subsequent years, Brown managed to wrestle control of what had been a fairly pro-Aggies rivalry in the 1980s and early ’90s, winning nine of the last 12 meetings as Texas turned into a national power. The last game is back in focus with the series resuming at Kyle Field on Saturday.
After Pac-10 expansion (and the subsequent launch of the Longhorn Network) fueled a series of foundation-rattling moves in conference realignment, Texas A&M decamped the Big 12 for the SEC in 2012.
The Longhorns felt betrayed by the move. The Aggies rejoiced, finally having something to lord over their friends in Austin. It was an outpouring of hard feelings, which never recovered despite feigned attempts at playing the series prior to Texas embarking on its move to join the SEC this past summer.
Leading up to the traditional post-Thanksgiving kickoff 13 years ago, few were giving thanks for what portended to be the last visit by the Longhorns to College Station in a very long while. An unease settled over Kyle Field hours before kickoff and only added to the tension felt on both sides, palpable as emotions ran the gamut on nearly every play.
“I think I aged many years in the second quarter,” Brown says. “In the third quarter was when we started scoring.”
The home side trailed late in the fourth before quarterback Ryan Tannehill found Jeff Fuller on a 16-yard touchdown pass to give A&M a one-point lead after a missed two-point conversion. With 1:48 remaining on the clock, the Aggies and their wrecking crew defense did what they had quite often that season under coach Mike Sherman—let the outcome slip away late.
Longhorns quarterback Case McCoy, deftly guided his team down the field and was aided by an infamous personal foul penalty that helped the visitors get into field goal range in the final few seconds.
“We had the best kicker in the country, so I walk out and hug Justin Tucker and say, ‘You do this every day. There’s nobody in America I’d rather have kicking this kick than you.’ Then I think I had to make him relax,” Brown says. “So I said something like, ‘You’re going to have the attention of every lady on the Texas campus. You are the luckiest guy in the world.’ ”
Tucker, who believes the kick wound up playing a big role in him getting a shot in the NFL, calmly stepped up to drill a 40-yard field goal as time expired to give Texas the 27–25 win.
“As soon as the ball left my foot, I see it’s going straight. Then there’s that explosion of emotion that consists of exhilaration, relief, excitement, and I’d almost say gratitude that everything kind of worked out for us,” Tucker said. “It wasn’t until I got back into the locker room that I realized and it really sunk in that, man, we really just hit the dagger in this rivalry for many years to come. We have the bragging rights.
“There’s a saying at Texas that what starts here changes the world. I really felt like, from my own perspective, I got to be a part of something really special that fits right into what being a Texas Longhorn is all about.”
Afterward, Sherman called the loss “devastating,” while Texas players celebrated well beyond the time they arrived back in Austin and returned to classes. Texas Exes, as alumni are sometimes called, haven’t hesitated to bring up the final result in the presence of an Aggie ever since.
“We actually felt like that would be the last time the game was ever played,” says Brown, who walked off Kyle Field looking as ashen as he ever had in his 36-year head coaching career. “Even to a point where we called the scoreboard at the end, ‘The Eternal Scoreboard,’ because that one would live forever.”
So it did until this Saturday, when it becomes another unforgettable entry—but crucially not the last—onto the ledger of a great Texas duel.
Only this first meeting with twin SEC badges on the uniforms is notable not just for the return of something that felt lost forever, but the actual impact it will have on the 2024 season.
Texas sits at No. 3 in the College Football Playoff rankings and controls its fate in making the postseason chase for the national title and potentially winning the SEC in Year 1.
Texas A&M sits on the wrong side of the playoff bubble and, for as much of a success as this season has been for new coach Mike Elko, winning out to make the field at the expense of the team’s greatest rival is like a giant cherry on top.
Coaches involved with the rivalry have a slightly different take, though.
A few days after that memorable November night in 2011, Slocum and Crow piled into a car together and made their way toward Austin. After licking their wounds from the loss on the drive, they met up with Brown and former Texas coach Darrell Royal for breakfast at a local country club.
“We were sitting there, catching up, and at one point Mack said to Coach Royal that this last game we played against A&M will be the last time we’re going to play because they’re going to the SEC,” says Slocum, noting the former Texas coach was in the early stages of dementia. “Coach [Royal] sat there for a minute with a blank kind of look and then leaned over and said, ‘What did he just say?’ He knew [not playing] wasn’t right.
“I’m glad, and I’m sure Darrell would be glad, that we’re playing this game again.”
Texas and Texas A&M are reunited once again, thumbs-up for that.
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This article was originally published on www.si.com as Texas, Texas A&M Renew Rivalry As Bitter SEC Foes After 13-Year Hiatus.
