SWC: From dim bulbs to wild thirsty bears

By Charlie Barnes, Executive Director - Seminole Boosters

BEVO is the name of a cow (all right, a steer; the nuances of agriculture elude me), and this steer is the mascot of the University of Texas Longhorns.

A magnificent beast in appearance, BEVO is nevertheless something of a dim bulb in the intellect department. Those less enthralled with what they perceive as a self-impressed and condescending attitude by University of Texas alumni have suggested that BEVO is a more accurate representation of that school than the casual observer might assume.

Last season was the swan song of the fabled Southwest Conference, composed of seven Division I schools in Texas, plus the University of Arkansas. Its long decline and final dissolution were rooted in the truly spectacular hatreds nursed by most of the member schools against each other. Arkansas, in particular, always felt expected to sit alone at the small table during the big family dinners.

The concept of Mutually Assured Destruction did not originate with the United States and the Soviet Union. Accusations and finger-pointing, and bloodthirsty, Old West revenge, worthy of everything you've ever heard about Lone Star State culture, became the signature of the Southwest Conference. In the 1980s, it seemed as if every school in the League were on probation or under investigation; even Texas Christian. The NCAA put Southern Methodist out of business altogether for a couple of years.

In the end, the SWC was very much like Samson; its powers diminished, bringing down the entire house on itself in a blind rage. One measure of the virulence among family members is the fact that the League's nine original members will spin off into four separate conferences this fall. Texas, Baylor, Texas Tech, and A&M will go into the new Big 12; Rice and TCU are headed to the Western Athletic Conference, and Houston will join the new Conference USA. Arkansas, of course, already jumped to the SEC four years ago.

In its heyday, the Southwest Conference was one of the most feared and powerful football leagues in America, fueled by the rich stockpiles of Texas schoolboy talent and anchored by the legendary Cotton Bowl, until recent years the bowl with the largest payout after the Rose. The SWC furnished us with national champions, Heisman Trophy winners, and some of the most entertaining college football ever played.

The league members' school mascots are especially colorful, and reflect the peculiar and quirky personality of the State of Texas. Texas A&M folks call themselves Aggies, but their mascot is a collie dog named Reveille. It seems that in 1931 some Aggie students accidentally ran over a dog in their Model T, then took the injured animal back to campus with them where it remained for the next 14 years, happily leading the school band to Kyle Field for every football game.

The University of Texas' first BEVO - an orange and white steer purchased through alumni subscription - made his debut at the game against Texas A&M in 1916. Texas won, but the audacious Aggies kidnapped BEVO and branded him with the "13-0", the score of 1915's A&M upset win over Texas. Following the 1920 game in which Texas beat A&M to win the SWC title, BEVO I made another appearance, this time in the form of steaks at a post-game dinner for both teams. The Aggies got the part with 13-0 brand.

Texas Christian University charged a committee with mascot selection in 1897. That committee determined that "horned frogs and cactus are the two most typically Texas subjects." Forget for the moment that if the committee was correct about horned frogs and cactus being the most typical subjects of the area, then life in 19th Century Texas was even more dreadful than we have ever imagined. "Horned Frogs" was chosen after it was discovered that the University of Texas' yearbook was named The Cactus. It was a good choice; ESPN selected it as the #1 college sports nickname in the nation, and a student costumed as "Super Frog" prowls (hops?) along the sidelines at games.

At Baylor University, "Bears" won the mascot honors in a 1914 vote of the student body, defeating other nominations which included antelopes, frogs and ferrets.

I had occasion to visit Baylor some years ago, and to meet with the team of students responsible for the deportment of the mascot bear at the games. He lives in a special pit on campus (didn't we all?) and is very popular with the student body. The team members, all seniors, had a somewhat different perspective of the bear than the rank and file fans.

"The first thing you have to remember," they told me, "is that this is a real, live, wild bear, and not a particularly bright one at that." The team understands that the bear doesn't really want to go to the games. "What he wants to do is run off into the woods and play with all the other bears. Sometimes he just starts out for wherever he's going, dragging us along behind."

At the games, he's kept on two substantial leashes, and each of the two holders stands on an opposite side of the bear. "That's so when he comes after one of us, the other can hold him back," one said. "Oh, yeah," said another, "Sometimes he sort of assumes we're his lunch, and starts to trot over for the stray arm or leg."

One of the most endearing things about the bear - from a Baylor fan's perspective - is that every time Baylor scores, the bear is given a treat of a bottle of Dr. Pepper soft drink, which he holds up with both paws and drinks right down.

"Now the bear really, REALLY likes that Dr. Pepper," explained the handlers. "and we live in absolute dread of the situation where, for instance, Baylor completes a long pass to the one yard line but doesn't score...The band kicks in, the crowd goes crazy, and the bear starts looking around for his Dr. Pepper...Have you ever tried to explain to a 2,000 pound bear that he can't have a treat because we DIDN'T ACTUALLY SCORE?"

What's the best thing about the bear? The students smile. "He scares BEVO to death!"