“The Last (aggy)Supper”

Billy Schott’s oral history, some photos, and text are at https://texas-lsn.squarespace.com/billy-schott-oralhistory

It would be very easy to recall so many of the distinct memories I have associated with the intense rivalry involving the school in College Station for my 70 years on this planet, but I doubt they would have the same impact on the young folks that occupy this board as maybe a few of my contemporaries. Many of you have been kind enough to request my recollections of my last trip down "The Tunnel" at the Texas-ou game, and I appreciate the remembrances during that particular time of the season. Some folks have requested that I put my thoughts down about the apparent end of the game that we have always anticipated as part of the Thanksgiving season, so these things come to mind...


Although recently publicized because of the events surrounding this week's final scheduled game with the the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, one event that has been held annually since the 1950s will fade away. Referred to as "The Aggie Supper", this sacred, semi-secret gathering of each Longhorn football team, along with invited former players, has been held on Sunday evening preceding each UT-a&m game. No coaches were present, and it was always organized by the head trainers beginning with Frank Medina, followed by Spanky Stephens, Tom McVan, and Kenny Boyd. This year (2011), for the first time in memory, invitations went out to every Longhorn Letterman to attend so as to have the opportunity to visit with all current players and convey the extreme importance of this year's mission. I vividly recollect the memories of past Aggie Suppers in my playing days and listening to the messages brought forth by the likes of Frank Denius, Wally Scott, Harley Sewell, James Street, Rooster Andrews, and a most memorable address from the legendary Bobby Layne. The intensity was evident, the language salty, and the hackles were raised by the end of each gathering.



On a chilly Sunday night before Thanksgiving, approximately 100 former players from the past six decades gathered along with the 2011 Longhorns at The University Club in the final installment of this long-standing tradition. We took the opportunity to meet and visit with numerous members of this year's squad individually and in small groups and have some "private moments" to express our disdain for...well, the common denominator seemed to be, "..those sorry bastards, etc. in College Station." I think some of the freshmen were somewhat taken aback by the hatred and vitriol expressed by men old enough to be their grandfathers, but the points were driven home.

Doug English

After the initial meet and greet was done, we were seated and then treated to remarks from my UT teammate and classmate, Doug English. "Big Slim" kept it fairly clean for as long as humanly possible and then had some choice remarks for the young guys to chew on. One thing Doug said evoked memories from 1972 when he and several other fellow sophomores were thrust into their first career starts (we weren't eligible as freshmen back then) against OU. Our defensive line coach, R.M. "Pat" Patterson, sidled up to Doug during pregame warmups, looked around the Cotton Bowl, and said, "This ain't no place for a timid man..." and walked off. Doug said that those words always rang true throughout his career at UT and with the Detroit Lions and that Kyle Field would not be a place for the timid come Thursday night.



After Doug's talk, it got plum Western...Kenny Boyd introduced Aaron Humphrey, who was a favorite at previous Aggie Suppers for expressing his professed, sincere, intense dislike for all things aggy in his own special manner. "Hump" pulled no punches and may have invented new combinations of words that mainly rhymed with "truckers". The young Horns definitely received the message with wide eyes and a few dropped jaws. Some of the guys' mommas may not have approved of views expressed to their little boys in a manner worse than the raunchiest rap song, but I think they got it.

“Hump” is front and to the left. Cedric Woodard is top and Casey Hampton is to the right.


After Hump finished his eloquent address to the troops, he dropped the wireless mike from shoulder level to the floor in the finest WWE style and sauntered back to his seat to thunderous applause. Message delivered.

Following a barbecue meal, there was some more visiting with current and former players and then it was time to let the young guys go get some rest. It was definitely an honor to have been a part of this gathering and it will be long-remembered by many other grateful Lifetime Longhorns.

Prior to this event, I had not planned to attend the game in person. On the drive home, I reflected on the discussion I was privileged to have after dinner with a group of current players at the table next to mine, including Case McCoy and Jordan Hicks. I told them that this game had been a part of my life, basically, since birth. I had attended every game since I was 3 years old, served as a ballboy for many years from elementary through high school, played in 3 games and never lost to the Ags. I expressed to them that the one thing that has meant the most to me about this year's team is the fact that they never quit playing hard in every game. My job during the home games has me on the sidelines next to the team area and observing the palpable, 180 degree difference between this bunch and last year's team has been a joy to behold (even though it hasn't been perfect enough for many observers with a much keener eye than mine). The guys I spoke with seemed to appreciate the simple nod to their perseverance and tenacity; they had already heard and felt the thunder from the guest speakers. It was then that I knew I had to attend this game. After complimenting these kids on never giving up and playing hard on every snap, I couldn't quit on them. After a few calls, tickets were obtained and I called my bride and told her that we were going to have our first Longhorn-aggy game date together Thursday night. She had watched me play in this game and many others but never thought we'd attend it as husband and wife, so that made it even more special.

Thursday night, the emotions I have built up over so many years as a young boy watching my Longhorn heroes in this game like Walter Fondren, James Saxton, Bobby Gurwitz, Mike Cotten, Tommy Ford, Bill Bradley, and so many others, combined with my teammates, and the legacies and legends that followed, all came to the surface as I watched Justin Tucker line up for one of the most meaningful plays in Longhorn history.

Justin Tucker Celebrate beating the Aggies as time expires.

I thought back to the days when, like Justin recalled in his post-game interview about practicing with his father, my Dad would hold for me while practicing kicking down in the "hole" at Pearce Junior High.

My Dad would give me the similar scenario that Justin's Pop had proposed: "Three seconds left...down by a point to the Aggies...no timeouts...it's on you. Get in the tunnel...focus on the sweet spot. Here we go. Set!" Make it stand out

And Justin tees it up. And I'd nail it.

Dad would always tell me about having "tunnel vision" and to tune out the crowd, forget the score, check the wind, and so on. Golfers do it, baseball players do it, surgeons do it, and pilots do it. Focus requires tunnel vision. I always dreamed I'd have the chance to make that kick against the Ags if I ever got to be a Longhorn, but thankfully, we always kicked their ass to the extent that such dramatics weren't necessary. But, as I watched Justin line up for that kick...I glanced at the flags in the southeast corner of Kyle Field and noted that there was a light breeze from left to right...the streamers at the top of the uprights fluttered slightly...and I heard my Dad...
"Keep your head down...follow through...just like an extra point. The crowd will tell you where it went. Here we go."

I closed my eyes...and felt a strange sense of calmness and quiet. I was lined up and waiting for the snap...I opened my eyes and all I saw was Justin Tucker keeping his head down...following through...and driving a stake into the heart of the deafening silence that only minutes before had been a taunting, jeering, towel-waving, maddening wall of premature celebratory sound. The darkness around my self-imposed tunnel view of the proceedings turned to light and, like my Dad had told me, "The crowd will tell you where it went."

Justin lived the kick I had only dreamed about. But I was there...with a different view through the tunnel.

And it was a beautiful sight…🤘🏼