In our new series SEC Connections, we take a look at coincidences, partnerships and parallels between The University of Texas at Austin and our sister schools in the Southeastern Conference. This week, a school that needs no introduction, Texas A&M University.
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Where to start with this one? Isaac and Esau. William and Harry. Venus and Serena. Sibling rivalries can get intense. But at the end of the day, there’s no denying we’re family.
Texas and Texas A&M are more than siblings; they’re basically conjoined twins who were separated at birth by Texas politicians in the late 19th century, and despite their cultural differences, they have never been far apart.
- Did you know that before UT settled on its school colors, one scheme under consideration was orange and maroon?
And even after 13 years in different conferences, the tribal memory of generations has reasserted itself, and the good-natured mutual disdain is back like nothing ever happened. No other university, not even the despised OU, is mentioned by name in the official lyrics of UT’s fight song: “And it’s goodbye to A&M.”
The Aggie War Hymn reciprocates by including “Good-bye to texas university / So long to the orange and the white.” Written in 1918 while its composer sat in a trench in France, its original title was actually “Goodbye to Texas University.” Aggies link arms and legs and sway left to right to “saw varsity’s horns off.” And on it goes.
Other rivalries may ebb and flow for both universities, but these lyrics tells us who the top rival — the eternal rival — is and ever will be.
Love knows no boundaries, and when lovers unite in marriage across taboo lines, like a Montague and a Capulet, suddenly there are “houses divided” on game day. But battle lines can be generational too. Married alums of one school regularly have children who rebel and attend the other: When the offspring of a Longhorn couple aspires to be a veterinarian, little can be done.
When the high school-aged children of friends announce their decision to turn to the dark side and head east, or west, depending on your allegiance, we respond in measured tones: “Well … it’s a good school … for some things,” a grudging, understated acknowledgement of the truth that both schools are great at most everything. When a photo on social media shows that these children or godchildren have arrived in Fish Camp or at Camp Texas and donned the rival colors, we politely “like” the photo, but we do not “love” it. We all have our limits.
But of course there is more to our proximity than just sports and ribbing. There has been collaboration in countless areas, and support in times of sorrow.