Losing a Voice, Gaining a Smile at the Texas Bowl

It only took me one quarter to get hoarse. Thirty minutes of warm-up cheering, followed by the first 15 minutes of Rice’s stomping, and my voice had gone the way of Western Michigan’s pass defense.

So I’m sorry if my lack of vociferousness cost us a couple shots at catching the Broncos with a false start. But can you really blame me? Because if you were sitting, standing, working, or playing at the Texas Bowl, I’m sure you can understand why my voice went so quickly.

After all, it had been only 54 years since Rice looked like it had a shot at grabbing a bowl-game victory. And while I haven’t been privy to that half-century of angst — the closest I can come is watching Wonder Years, That 70s Show, and Everybody Loves Chris, in that order — I can understand where the desire to see your team, your crew, your boys succeed at the highest level possible.

The Texas Bowl was not full of neither Tostitos, oranges, nor national champions, but what it lacked in bravado it made up for in sheer existence. With its invitation earlier this month, the Texas Bowl instantly became the focal point for Owls fans across the world, leapfrogging the EagleBank Bowl and the Papajohns.com Bowl and nestling in as our favorite bowl of this wintry holiday break.

If you’re reading this blog, you already know the reasons why. A shot at a double-digit win total, considered by only the most fanciful — and fanatical — back in September. A chance to replace the 1954 Cotton Bowl trophy with a more recent set of hardware. An attempt to give Chase Clement and Jarett Dillard, our two most cherished gridiron giants, a proper farewell in front of a quasi-hometown crowd.

With paint painfully cracking from my chest, I looked up at the cobalt sky of Reliant Stadium, knowing I would be seeing these two in Rice threads for the last time. A bittersweet tinge filled my gut, but I could only imagine what it would be like for the two of them, with records, history, and friendship behind them that will guide them into the annals of Rice history.

And that's to say nothing of the other seniors: Brian Raines, ever the casted gladiator, out there once again; David Berken, always-underappreciatedlineman; Tommy Henderson, just a second late and an inch short of Dillar; and Ja'Corey Shepherd, whose ability to pump up a crowd was sorely needed during the games that saw lower attendance than a Detroit Lions awards dinner.

So the reasons for my voice going ballistic were evident.

What I didn't anticipate, however, is that the team would require us to yell and scream (and jump and clap and high-five) on end throughout the entire contest. Every time we looked up, it seemed that the Owls were set to kick off, stuffing a Broncos receiver, or finding another receiver (even Clement once) to snag the endzone toss. The breaks were few, and without the necessity of television commercials, I don't think my fumes would have lasted me through the light-rail swing back home.

If tonight was not perfect, it was damn close. Clement and Dillard, as ever, were two peas in a pod, stretching their record to 52 shared touchdowns -- although the 51st, from Dillard to a wide-open Clement, showed that tandem isn't just a one-trick pony. James Casey and Toren Dixon continued their superb play, C.J. Ugokwe barrelled down the Broncos and ate important minutes off the clock, and the defense -- boy, the defense -- held the Broncos' offense to 13 less first downs and 177 less yards.

The play-calling, emphasizing running early, threw the Broncos' defense awry, opening up options down-field as the game progressed. I wasn't privy to the sideline decision-making, but offensive coordinator Tom Hermann and head coach David Bailiff had their game-plan set with Rhino Glue and a dash of kahones. Our cheerleaders were prim, the MOB refrained from name-calling, and the Gray and Blue was out en masse, splled from the student section into John and Jane Doe of greater Houston.

This bowl game was magnificent, superb, and without compare. It's superlative to say that much has changed since Rice last won a bowl game: cell phones have eliminated landlines, Ford is currently drowning, and while North Korea may still be saber-rattling, our incoming Administration looks ready to pursue peace rather than war-mongering. Those who witnessed both the 1954 Cotton Bowl and the 2008 Texas Bowl number less than the wins that the Owls had, but those who will watch Rice return to their next bowl game will undoubtedly tally in the thousands.

(BTW It looks like my voice came back as the game's trophy presentation waned -- a second half full of calm awe at Rice's demolishing of Western Michigan's heart was, it appears, a panacea):