Q: Without the acrimony of the annual UT-A&M football game, Thanksgiving family dinner has been relatively peaceful the past twelve years. Now that the rivalry is back, any suggestions for keeping the peace at our divided dinner table?
Mark S. Browning, College Station
A: The Texanist can think of few things that make him feel more exhilarated than a good old-fashioned, rancor-fueled college rivalry. And the matchup between Texas A&M and the University of Texas, which kicked off in 1894, may be the granddaddy of them all. The conflict has been quiet since the teams last clashed, in 2011, but many folks can recall a time when scant few Texans identified as anything other than an Aggie or a Longhorn. (Even those who didn’t attend either school!) Come Thanksgiving season, neighbors became less neighborly, friendships were friendshipwrecked upon the shores of gridiron grievances, and family ties were left frayed, the Texanist is ’fraid to say.
And it was absolutely glorious. Much as the players on the field and the spectators sitting in the stands found the sublimated hostility of the game thrilling, so it went for those at the dinner table indulging in a little harmless aggression of their own. Which is why it is the Texanist’s professional opinion that “keeping the peace” is exactly the wrong way to go here.
Of course, certain rules of engagement do apply. First and foremost, such blood feuds should remain bloodless. Because no one at the dinner table is wearing a helmet or protective padding, these sorts of dustups must be limited to the realm of the verbal. For instance, a typical Thanksgiving repast in this new era of intrastate enmity might begin with, say, a Longhorn fan touting the rivalry’s somewhat lopsided record, which currently stands at 76–37–5 in UT’s favor. An Aggie could then parry by noting the ten A&M victories in eleven meetings between 1984 and 1994.
A Longhorn, in turn, could highlight UT’s ten-win streak between 1957 and 1966. An Aggie could bring up 1965’s “Texas special,” a flawlessly executed 91-yard trick play that resulted in what was, at the time, the longest touchdown pass in Southwest Conference history. A Longhorn might then ask for an accounting of national championships. An Aggie might bring up the twelfth man and talk about which school has the richest traditions. And so forth.
As the jabbing goes on, voices may rise. A spoonful of mashed potatoes might get flung. A gravy boat’s contents may sail across the table. But if anyone brandishes a carving knife, things will clearly have gone too far. Though the Texanist has never heard of such a thing happening.
The UT-A&M rivalry lasted for more than a century and brought immeasurable joy to millions of Texans. Its return is something for which we should be thankful, not fearful—sailing gravy boats notwithstanding. Enjoy the game!
The Texanist, offering fine advice and keen observations since 2007, is senior writer David Courtney. Send him your questions at [email-hidden] and be sure to tell him where you’re from.
This article originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Texas Monthly with the headline “The Texanist.” Subscribe today.
