The TCU students in our lives have scattered to many compass points for the holidays. Our daughter and a few of her friends, for instance, seem to have successfully avoided a blizzard that has been hammering the eastern half of Colorado. From their perch at Winter Park, it’s all sunshine and powder as they shush down the slopes.
The fate of their school’s football team seems to be of no consequence. A little less than a year ago, they spent New Year’s Eve in Hollywood and January 1st at The Rose Bowl, so it’s understandable that a pre-Christmas trip to the Poinsettia Bowl for a game against Louisiana Tech would not supersede their trip to the mountains.
So, when the local media started poking around for TCU fans, somehow our name came up. Next thing you know, a TV reporter showed up at our door wanting to talk to Horned Frog fans who are anticipating the game. We were happy to oblige and dutifully donned our purple gear and surrounded ourselves with Frog Stuff.
We showed up on two stations about an hour apart, looking like a couple from When Harry Met Sally. We played off one another in the tandem interview and talked about our conflicts of allegiance.
After all, as lifelong residents of northwest Louisiana, we’ve developed a great affection for Louisiana Tech. (You can watch the story here)
My wife borrowed her wisdom from a bumper sticker and correctly pointed out to the reporter that “our daughter and our money go to TCU,” so we had to make a conscious choice about which team to root for in the game.
The wife has vowed to wear purple all day. I’ll probably stay neutral.
I think a bowl victory would mean more to Louisiana Tech’s program, but a loss might hurt the Frogs in the 2012 preseason rankings. So, I could go either way. We’ll watch on TV and when our daughter gets back from her ski trip, we’ll let her know how it went.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Taking Sides in a Frog-Dog Brawl
Sunday, October 09, 2011
The Gumbo That Made Me Cry
Having spent a couple of years distracted by our recent infatuation with TCU football, my wife and I were thrilled to find our way back to Tiger Country. It felt like going home, even in ways that could not have been anticipated.
From a perch high in the west upper deck of Tiger Stadium, we saw LSU maul the Florida Gators. The seats were actually pretty good; and on a mild breezy day we had a great view of Baton Rouge.
As we walked toward the stadium, naturally we had to weave our way through several square miles of tailgate parties. We stopped for a few minutes at a friend’s low-key affair, which gave me a chance not only to eat and rest a few minutes, but also to reflect on the remarkable contrast in fan sensibilities we witnessed in just one week's time.
You just can’t explain to TCU people what LSU is like. Frog fans are pleased with their game-day experience, possible because it’s so understated in comparison to many SEC schools. As I navigated a profane, besotted sea of purple and gold, it hit me: Game day at TCU is like a James Taylor concert. At LSU, it’s like Bonnaroo: a giant festival that coalesces into a celebration of the senses. The sights, sounds, tastes, smells and feel of the place are just remarkable.
Because the game was played in the afternoon, we decided to drive home afterward. Lafayette is about an hour west of Baton Rouge, so we planned to have dinner there. 
Shortly after nightfall, we stopped at Prejean’s just north of town.
We’ve eaten there several times, but for some reason this particular dinner seemed just about perfect. As I dived into a bowl of spectacular seafood gumbo and enthusiastically spooned potato salad, I found myself becoming surprisingly emotional.
I thought about it for a few minutes, and then I realized what was going on. I was so happy to have such an amiable and agreeable travel partner. My wife and I have been doing this kind of thing together for more than a quarter-century and we almost always have a good time. Moreover, every bite of food I took, every sip of iced tea, evoked memories of the meals that were routinely prepared by my mother and my aunts. They’ve all been gone for so long that I didn’t realize how much I miss them, especially their cooking.
I woke up the next morning and told my wife it might actually be worth it to me on a Sunday to drive back to Lafayette just to eat. She said she felt like the whole trip, driving south and then north across the state in a day, Tiger Stadium and dinner, relegitimized her as a Louisianan.
We’re really enjoying our association with new friends in Texas; but when you get right down to it, gumbo still has the edge over barbecue and Tex-Mex. See you at dinner, and forgive me if I’m crying just a little. They’re tears of happiness.
