It hasn’t seemed to matter whether Dan Beebe or Bob Bowlsby were commissioner, whether Texas had its own television network, whether a grant-of-rights was in place or if the notion had yet to be conceived, or if there were 10, 12 or some other number of universities comprising the Big 12 Conference.
Regardless of circumstance, the one constant of the Big 12 has been this: misery.
Oh, yeah: and Kansas winning in hoops.
Is anyone other than Bill Self ever happy in this league? The Big 12 plays out perpetually like one of those family Thanksgiving movies, where everyone — including at least one guitar-toting dropout — complains how Sis gets treated better by Mom, and the arguments get louder and more visceral until everyone in the room realizes they love and need each other.