How I became a Sooner fan and learned to hate burnt orange

The Senior Sooner bleeds crimson with OU DNA laced throughout my llife.

Not Sooner forgotten ...

     I joined Sooner Nation in1956 as a 4th grader after my father was stationed at Tinker Air Force Base.

    Football was new to me after being overseas, and I looked forward to dad explaining the games on TV. I wanted to have him tell me why, among the many lines on the field, the line of scrimmage constantly changed.

     But that particular Saturday he ignored me while holding a transistor radio to his ear. It was the day OU's 47-game win streak sadly ended, and afterwards he told me just down Sooner Road from our house was the nation's best team.

    And I was hooked. Wow! I now lived not in China but in the hotbed of this exciting sport!

     But our next door neighbor, a mischievous Texan, literally taunted me into being a devout Oklahoma football fan. With snide remarks he forced me to dislike the Horns, beginning a love-hate relationship with the Red River rivalry and Big D.

     My older sister walked in our front door from her only Dallas weekend, handed her coat to Mom, looked at me and said, "Don't let Rusty go."

     So I just had to sneak off to Big D as a freshman without my parents knowing, thanks to the Student Union bus trip. "No booze onboard," my buddies and I were told, so we dutifully hid our fifths in our suitcases, which were stowed. As soon as the doors hissed close, though, alcohol flowed. Everyone, even our chaperone, was guzzling away --  except for us three.

We quickly joined OU-saxeT fans packing Commerce on Friday night

     So we couldn't wait to get to our 8th floor room in the Baker Hotel and our booze. While gulping to catch up, we noticed a continuous roar coming from the window. Pulling back the curtain, we saw its source: Commerce Street between the Baker, OU's headquarters, and the Adolphus was jam packed with noisy people.

     We quickly joined the throng. I don't remember much about the street, except being used by my buddies as a wedge through the sea of humanity, making our way with me alternately saying "Go Sooners ... hook 'em Horns" to get people to part.

     Everyone was behaved -- until we made a pit stop and had the backroom door blocked by an angry saxeT goof. Just when I expected fisticuffs, the door banged opened and cracked him on the back of his head, and he staggered aside. Whew!

Taking down the Cotton Bowl goalposts after storming the field.

      I was severely hungover on game day, but somehow made the game and sobered up as OU upset saxeT, 18-9, to end a losing streak. 

     The stadium announcer said something about going on the field, which sounded like a splendid idea. So over the wall we went to attack goalposts. I was merrily helping parade the crossbar around the Cotton Bowl when I remembered I had a bus to catch home. Running out of the stadium through emptying parking lots, I caught my bus right at the gate. I later caught up with that goalpost, a piece of which is on display at the home of the Senior Sooner.

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