Texas vs. Oklahoma: Raw, Rugged, and Deadly Serious

“The Texas-Oklahoma game is one of the maddest spectacles of sport… the seats of the stadium crammed with the throatiest, most enthusiastic partisans in football, evenly divides between Texans and Oklahomans. Regardless of the team records, the excitement is there each year; the game matches state against state, school against school, fraternity against fraternity, oil derrick against oil derrick.” — Dan Jenkins in Saturday’s America: The Disciples of Saint Darrell

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When things are going wrong at the Cotton Bowl, I’m haunted by the thought that Boomer Sooner will be the song I hear while I’m dying a slow and excruciating death. But when things are good and the Sooner side of the Cotton Bowl is empty while the burnt orange side is full, it’s like I’m already in Heaven.

Simply put, this game is why I love sports. If all of sports were taken away and we somehow still had Red River, I’d take that deal in a heartbeat. It’s everything – the heroics, the heartbreak, the legends and the timeless stories all stuffed into one tortilla that’s forced to work overtime to hold everything inside. Texas-OU brings out the deepest form of pride one can feel in where they’re from and in the experiences they had. Watching Texas take the field and pass the chorus of boos and into the euphoria of cheers roots the Longhorn fan to a time and place that are long gone, yet still cherished. For a long time, I didn’t get it, unfortunately, and frankly I was tired of seeing us lose, but then I missed out on two improbable wins (in 2013 and 2015) and vowed to never stop going. Hopefully one day I’ll be like my friend Bill and see 49 straight. I’d rather Texas win this game than any other on the schedule and I hate losing it more than any other and when they lose it makes me reevaluate fandom all together, for the rest of that day. Because whether the experience feels like flying close to the sun or like your heart being boiled in a bucket of tears, it’s one of a kind, it’s priceless, it’s both fleeting and forever. It’s Red River.

Because of how rich this game is, I’ve compiled several amazing quotes from several people the Texas fan will enjoy hearing from. So, to continue Hate Week 2024, here are memories, thoughts and feelings about Texas-OU from both former players and forever fans. We have quotes from everyone’s favorite Longhorn Derrick Johnson, a hero of the 1969 team Tom Campbell, National Champion Drew Kelson and sealer of the 1981 game Mark Weber. Plus, a bunch of fans who care too much, just like me, just like you.

The players
Derrick Johnson (01-04)

“My experience with the Red River rivalry… it’s something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. As you drive up and being able to smell the funnel cakes, smell the corn dogs, and see OU fans hitting on the buses, even old ladies and young kids—it’s pretty wild. But as a player, when you step on the field, that’s where it’s all about. There’s a lot of hype, a lot of noise, but once you’re on the field, everything else fades away. It’s just the game. When you make a play at Texas-OU, people remember it forever. That’s your moment to give the team momentum and show what you’ve got. No other game is like it, and playing in the old school Cotton Bowl, not some fancy stadium, just adds to it. It’s about strapping up the boots and giving them a show.”

Tom Campbell (1967-1969)

“The OU game has always been something special for me. The first time I went as a spectator was just incredible. Coming out of the locker room and walking down that tunnel is a totally different experience. You have to be careful not to fall down that slope, and I remember the upperclassmen warning us about it. I practically tip-toed down that thing. It’s electric in the tunnel. When you’re shoulder to shoulder with the OU team, you feel the rivalry. But then, I distinctly remember a player from OU slipping and falling down, and all of us on the Texas side just laughed and hollered at him—that encapsulated the competition between the two teams.

As a sophomore walk-on, I never expected to play. My twin brother Mike got promoted to the traveling team before the OU game, and I thought he was a fool for being so excited. But we ended up winning. The next year, my junior year, I was on the second team, and going into that OU game, I was incredibly nervous, hoping the guy in front of me wouldn’t get hurt and I am just on the bench the whole game and my knees were shaking the whole time. If you’re nervous when you’re out on that field, you’re gonna lose.

In 1969, we were down 14-0, and my dad (Longhorns defensive coordinator Mike Campbell) noticed that our outside linebacker was getting rolled by their big tight end. He moved Mike (Jr.) to that position, and after that, OU didn’t score again. We won 21-17, and the celebration was magical. Beating OU is a memory I’ll never forget.”

Drew Kelson (04-06)

“This game gets more and more special to me with every year that goes by. As a player, you appreciate the history and having the opportunity to play in this big game on this big stage and in this stadium. And really, to wear orange as a guy from Texas—wearing burnt orange in this game is the only way to go. There’s a certain pride that comes with it. It’s the joy of both seeing your fans be exhilarated and OU fans being devastated. There’s just nothing like it. Both fan bases always show up with some hope and expectations, and there’s a mutual respect. The best part about this game is there’s always next year. Whether you win or lose, everyone has their time, and that’s what makes this so exciting. Year over year, it just grows. I can’t help but be grateful for this game being a part of my college career and my story, and the fact that I get to be a fan of this team for the rest of my life.”

Mark Weber (1978-1981)

“Not to take anything away from the soldiers who have fought for our freedoms, but the Texas vs. OU game is truly a BATTLE. There’s something different about OU week; the intensity is palpable for everyone involved—players, coaches, and even the students. Hell, my parents would join in the chant of “OU Sucks!” The tension often started in the tunnel, where both teams entered the same space at the same time, sucking the air out of the atmosphere. Coaches and staff had to break up the pushing and shoving just to get us on the field. But when you finally step onto the field and the crowd roars, you know you’re part of something special. That feeling drives you to leave everything out there and expect to come away with a W against those old Sooners!”

The Fans

Bill: There’s nothing like it on Earth. The Texas-OU game is the greatest spectacle of fandom, stressing all the senses—the sights, the sounds, the smells, and the emotions. Regardless of the journey in, the gut-wrenching desire to walk out as the winning team reaches a near-irrational importance as you approach the fair entrance. The smell of food, the sounds of the rides, and the sight of Sooner fans all seem to unfold in slow motion as you try to control your breathing and stride.

The first echoes of “Boomer Sooner” incite criminal thoughts and curse words under your breath. Trying to avoid grinding your teeth at such displays of ignorance, you make your way to whatever pregame tradition is required. Fortunately, for some, it’s just a couple of Fletcher’s corny dogs that must be consumed beforehand—not the full sacrifice of something wearing crimson. Some attempt to engage you in idle chit-chat, but this event is more important than that. You remain focused as you head into the stadium, trying to be patient. You’re not playing, but it feels like you are.

“Texas! Fight!” “Boomer! Sooner!” The Eyes of Texas,” then something resembling a school song from those folks. The National Anthem (and those people ignorantly yelling “Sooners” during the “home of the brave” stanza), and it’s on. “We are going to whip your butts and give your whole damn state back to the Indians!” I yell at the Sooner fans three seats to my right. I’m not kidding.

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Phil: The highest highs and the lowest lows—that’s the Red River Shootout. There is no better feeling in the world than being with your best friends in the Cotton Bowl, adrenaline rushing, and the Horns laying it on thick. In 2021, I think Xavier Worthy taking the first play of the game 75 yards to the house was one of the most euphoric moments of my life. Juxtaposed with that moment, however, was the fact we later experienced a crushing defeat at the hands of a nobody quarterback, sending us out of the fair early, broken and sad. How can those two moments be separated by a mere 60 minutes of game time? The RRS brings about the harshest of feelings, year in and year out. On a different level, it means cherished time with friends and significant memories made.

Annie: Both fanbases come into this game wanting something so badly, with all their hearts, sweat and tears. But, I still think about the 6-6 tie in 1976 in DKR’s last year, when both sides of the stadium were deprived of the highs of victory and even the agony of defeat. The aftermath of the tie game was so funny. The only sound leaving the Cotton Bowl was the shuffling feet on the concrete. But then high up in the stadium, this old guy leaned out of a window on the tower where the stairs wind down and started singing a beautiful Aria in Italian. Everyone just stopped and listened before going out to the quiet fairground for the postgame. There was nothing else for us to do!

Ryan: I’ve been to this game 17 times total, and 16 out of the last 17 (only missed the 2020 COVID game). As much as Thanksgiving and Christmas, this has become part of my family’s calendar. Texas is 7-10, so I’ve seen plenty of highs and lows. In 2005, as a senior in high school, my dad took me to my first OU game. We showed up without tickets and planned to scalp them at the Fairgrounds. Back then, tickets were physical, so we had to interact with scalpers in person. With Texas undefeated and looking to break a five-year losing streak to OU, we found a scalper selling tickets for a reasonable price. The catch? They were singles, so my dad and I sat in separate sections. I was lucky enough to be 15 rows up on the 40-yard line. Just before kickoff, an older man approached me, saying, “You stole my ticket.” It turned out the scalper had pickpocketed him and resold his ticket. Fortunately, once I explained the situation, everyone was understanding. Texas won 45-12, and the Cotton Bowl erupted when VY hit Billy Pittman for a bomb right before halftime. In 2008 at UT, I was in the upper deck with friends. Down 14-3 against the top-ranked Sooners, a cute girl I had a crush on came to sit with us. Moments later, Jordan Shipley returned a kickoff 96 yards for a touchdown. I hugged her in celebration, and we started jumping up and down. Texas won 45-35, and we went on our first date the following Friday. We’ve now been married for 12 years, and we’re always able to say that our first hug was during Shipley’s touchdown.

Jason: Once you enter the Fair with 100,000 of your closest friends, you immediately seek the shortest coupon line. Reflecting on why you didn’t come on Friday to avoid this madness, an anxious stomach churns as you collect $300 worth of coupons. The only remedy is deep-fried food and several wax cup beers. With a slight buzz, you head toward Big Tex, reconnecting with an old friend amidst the chaotic atmosphere. After a few more drinks, you tackle the long, disorganized lines into the stadium, where the sea of burnt orange meets the grotesque red. While the facade and structure of the Cotton Bowl is old and decrepit, you feel a homely warmth pass over you as you enter the stands. Then, as Texas runs out to roaring boos that quickly morph into cheers, goosebumps surge. I know I’ll be hoarse by the second quarter, but this day makes everything feel right in the world.

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Lastly, Longhorn Legend and Winters Blizzards great Bill Little wrote a wonderful story about Red River back in 2011. Every year, I read this from Bill and some Dan Jenkins to get in the right headspace for the day ahead. Read it here and get hyped. Some of my favorite of Bill’s lines…

“A kaleidoscope is an optical instrument, with varying symmetrical colorful patterns being displayed on rotation. It is ever changing in beauty and form, and yet somehow always the same. So it is with the Texas-Oklahoma game. It is a montage of sights, sounds and smells. It is a corny dog, a roller coaster ride, a tour of new cars and a livestock show on the Fairgrounds. It is a stadium split down the middle, with burnt orange and red. At the south end is “The Tunnel.” Much has been made through the years of the moment when the two teams, prepared for battle, walk together down the ramp, ready to burst into the arena.”

“There are a lot of things in life that grow old, perhaps stale, and out of style – and that has never happened with this game.”

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“But in the arena, memories are carved and heroes are made. You cannot think of the Texas-Oklahoma game without it becoming personal. Players who have played in the game will tell you the same thing. National championships have been launched, Heisman trophies have been won, all in the space of less than four hours during an October afternoon.”

RT Young is a dad, writer and disillusioned sales guy in Austin, Texas, and 2012 graduate of UT, retired from writing about the Spurs for SBNation, he’s written the Substack – Dance With Who Brung Ya since 2021 and is the author of the forthcoming children’s book entitled – The Longhorn Alphabet: Texas Football A to Z.