grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Bear Down Baylor

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The year I graduated from high school, Mike Singletary led Baylor to the Cotton Bowl. I took that as a good sign.
Mike Singletary, Baylor University
Mike Singletary
When Harry and Nancy Wooten invited me to Waco to visit their son (my boyfriend),  I watched the impressive homecoming bonfire and knew it was the college for me. Plus Grant Teaff’s worm story intrigued me beyond anything I had ever heard. 
At Christmas break, I vacated my Arkansas State dorm room, loaded up my yellow corvette and headed west. Although things didn’t work out with the boyfriend, I am forever grateful he connected me to Baylor.
Pat Neff Hall, Baylor University
Pat Neff
Today I should be Christmas shopping. Or brining a turkey. Or something. But I cannot do or plan one single productive thing until Baylor beats OSU tonight. (I did dig out my gold pom-pom and Baylor face tattoos, so that’s something.) 
Until recently, Baylor fans have endured less than stellar seasons. We were the butt of every Southwest Conference joke, even worse than the time-worn Aggie cracks. Schools vied to play us for homecoming game. Yet still we cheered and proudly yelled h-e-e-e-e-y sic ’em bears! at every opportunity. 
My sister and me - Baylor in the 80s
My sister and me with our 1980-something hair. Ready for game day!
I graduated and moved to Dallas.
I worked in banking.
I got married, had two kids, divorced, worked even more, remarried…

Life flew by. Friday nights were spent at high school games. We made occasional road trips to Waco for Baylor games. 

I learned to be satisfied if the bears simply showed up and didn’t embarrass me. We only lost by ten points? That’s a win in my book, I’d say…Coping skills—something learned at Baylor right along with macroeconomic theory and the Cotton-Eyed Joe. We limped along hoping for a football team while supporting the school’s other more successful programs…olympic track athletes…amazing basketball teams…
Yet still I waited for football. 
I moved my kids into their own dorms, not Baylor, but I was okay with that. Baylor was my special place. Each time I drove to Austin, I stopped at the Bear Pit to chat with the mascots. Will this be our year? Usually the bears were hiding…
Still waiting and aging and waiting and aging…

Then quietly and a bit under the radar, Art Briles breathed life into the program. Robert Griffin III was unstoppable. We began to remember what honest-to-goodness fun felt like, because we’d forgotten, or maybe we never knew. 
Throw What You Know - Baylor
cute kid at Alamo Bowl:)
And now—another miracle on the Brazos? 
Maybe this time we don’t need a miracle.
All that waiting and hoping and dreaming and praying…Give us this day our daily bears… it’s time.
Bear down Baylor. 
Do it for me.
Do it for all of Baylor Nation. We’ve been patiently waiting.
Sic ’em Bears!
talya
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Musical Pairing:

Blake Shelton, Sic ’em Bears!

The Year of the Bear!

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Robert and Brittney sitting in a tree,
K
I
S
S
I
N
G….


For the love of Baylor Nation, isn’t it obvious that Brittney Griner and Robert Griffin III should have a dunking contest, marry and have some amazing little baby bears? PlainAsDay.
 Can you imagine the supernatural jocks Baylor would celebrate in 2030, with size 18+ shoes and wing spans like that of the great wandering albatross? Ken Starr needs to make this a mission critical Baylor priority before RG3 moves off to ObamaLand and marries a Victoria’s Secret supermodel. Time is of the essence.

Keiser Yellow Jackets
my 9th grade year
#21
When I attempted to play basketball, I hated seeing Parkin on our schedule. Those Parkin girls, and we used that term loosely, were behemoths with sumo arms and thighs as sturdy as oak tree trunks. In 7th grade, I prayed Coach Graham would forget I was on the team. Please God keep the starters out of foul trouble. My stomach cramped at the thought of being sent in. Going head to head with these titans gave me nightmares. My only semi-basketball-virtue was my height, although it was no great asset when I tried to hide away at the end of the bench, disappearing into my own body like a shrinky dink. And I certainly wasn’t Brittney Griner tall. I had normal sized girl feet and could wear cute shoes, had there been any cute shoes in the 1970s. 

My mother was an incredible basketball player with an amazing hook shot that people still talk about in Mississippi County. I had no such shot. She was passionate about the sport and nearly got herself ejected from many a game when my sister and I played. Her behavior only further reminded Coach Graham that I was in fact on the team. 

Back inside the safety of our school bus, we were always relieved to have survived another game without death or life threatening injury among the team members or mothers. What were they feeding those girls? Our mothers were convinced some of the Parkin girl’s basketball team players also suited up on the football team last fall. Hmmmm. It was a hot PTA topic. We begged Coach Graham to stop the bus in West Memphis or Marion on the way back to eat supper after the game. Thinking back, a quarter pounder with cheese was probably not the best way to strengthen our core and hone our ball handling skills. While we were giggling and feasting at McDonalds, those Parkin girls were probably drinking steroid laced energy drinks and running bleacher laps to stretch out their dragonslayer quads. Oh well, it’s not whether you win or lose right? Ha. What a crock.

Sic’ em Lady Bears! Beat the Irish.

Lady Bears v. Aggies

talya

Musical Pairings:

George Baines Rosborough, “That Good Old Baylor Line”
R Kelly, “I Believe I Can Fly”

“The only difference between a good shot and a bad shot is if it goes in or not.” – Charles Barkley

cute bear at the Alamo Bowl:)

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!