The Eyes of the World Are Upon You
I was the last baby in my family. I had no experience with infants. As a new father in 2010, I did as any father does: his best. I struggled to remember any songs I heard as a child. As the boy cried for the first time in my arms, awash in fear and ecstasy, I sang “The Eyes of Texas” to him. It worked. Since the day he was born, every night, I have sung that song to him as I put him to bed. To us, that song represents the bond we share. To us, that song is a covenant that I will always be there to support, comfort, strengthen him. My boy’s middle name is Texas.
And that does not matter to black student athletes at The University of Texas.
In 2018, my son and I watched the Longhorns beat the hell out of Texas A&M at the Austin Super Regional. Kody Clemens hit a towering pop fly that reached above the Disch-Falk roof and slipped between three Aggies at home plate, landing in the dirt. As the crowd stood, shocked and silent, a small voice next to me started singing “Poor, Aggie! Poor, Aggie!”. It was my boy. The fans around me laughed. One man told me: “You’re raising him right!”. After the game, we sang “The Eyes of Texas” together. It is one of the most cherished moments with my son.
And that does not matter to black student athletes at The University of Texas.
I am beyond indebted to The University of Texas. As an undergrad, my time as a Kappa Sig, hacking Perl at the Economics lab on the 4th floor, bartending at the Cactus Café helped me create my self-identity. Classes such as John Trimble’s E325M Advanced Expository Writing, helped me find my voice and the confidence to express it. My two startups have come directly out of the McCombs School of Business.
And that does not matter to black student athletes at The University of Texas.
What does matter is how they feel about “The Eyes of Texas”. Because it is now their school, not just mine or yours. The young men and women who represent us as Longhorns are now in the driver’s seat. And they are very good drivers.
We cannot deny that same opportunity you and I had to black student athletes to find and define themselves and their school. We cannot deny that opportunity to any Longhorn. We should all be equal and valued on the 40 Acres. When you cut any of us, we all bleed the same Burnt Orange.
Tradition is just something you have done for a long time. And there are plenty of other things we have done for a long time, that we stopped: asbestos, smoking, leaches, and bloodletting.
To be a Longhorn means much more than a song. Being a Longhorn is pushing yourself, your community, your world to become the best that it can be. Being a Longhorn, is one more set at the gym as your legs shake and quiver. Being a Longhorn, is one more experiment that leads to the lithium-ion battery. Being a Longhorn, is deciding to throw on 4th and inches, even though you were told to run, and winning the first Big 12 Championship.
Longhorns take risk. Longhorns push. Longhorns make this world a better place than they found it.
As we head into the 2020 football season, I can think of no better way to honor the Longhorn Players than to listen to what matters to them. It is their time to drive. And we alumni need to be good passengers and enjoy the ride.
