On a blistering hot August day in 1997, I walked out of the concourse, through the entrance tunnel into Floyd Casey Stadium and saw at that time the prettiest sight I’d seen in my life. Even a six-year old could appreciate the shiny gold helmets, sounds of brass instruments, and roaring crowd as Baylor took the field against the Miami Hurricanes. The final score wasn’t pretty, but the pageantry of it all sealed my fate as a Baylor fan, and from that moment on I became fixated with anything Baylor football.
There were a few logistical problems that came with my newfound fandom.