Chapter 97: What’s In and What’s Out

Thursday, March 17, 1983

Nine again, and we were up, out, and headed to an IHOP — the same one we’d eaten at during State. Nothing wrong with a bit of tradition!

After breakfast, I drove us over to Baylor, parked, and we got out. I’ll hand it to them: Baylor has a pretty campus. Nice, very college-y buildings, well-spaced, well-maintained, quiet, and peaceful. It was, unfortunately, not a large campus — small enough that their football stadium was located way across town, for instance, though they would remedy that in the 2010s — but it was pretty and felt nice.

However ... none of us could stomach their theology and the way it influenced campus life. As good a school as Baylor was (and it’s a good school, with some truly amazing graduates) it wasn’t a fit for any of us. We weren’t the kind to sit quietly by and not make trouble, and it wouldn’t be fair for us to go here and make trouble. It’s a religious school, and they’re entitled to their views. I wouldn’t want someone coming into my house and trying to tell me I was wrong, after all. They deserved the same respect.

We spent a while touring the campus, then called it a day and headed for the car. An hour and a half later, we arrived in Fort Worth. We went out for barbecue first (it is a Fort Worth staple), then Jasmine demanded we show Angie and Paige the Water Gardens. Both of them greatly enjoyed the visit.

After that, we headed over to TCU’s campus. For us, in the end, we felt the same as with Baylor, but perhaps more pointed. None of us considered TCU as good a fit academically, and they had the same problem around theology. We’d be trouble-makers, and that wouldn’t be good for either us or them.

We headed over to Dallas around three-thirty, going straight to SMU’s campus. Of all of the schools we’d visited, it felt the most ‘college-y’ to us all. Buildings with very classical architecture arranged around a series of quadrangles. The most famous, Dallas Hall, was a well-known landmark in the area. From its top step, one could see downtown Dallas, while from the base, one was firmly in the land of academia.

Everyone had positive impressions of it, particularly Angie, who said, “I never realized they had such a cool campus. I like it here!”

Paige gave her a hug. “I do, too. It’s beautiful, if maybe a little bit ... um... traditional for me. I mean, just architecturally. I guess I don’t know much about campus culture.”

“From what I hear, it’s not really all that religious,” I said. “Yes, the United Methodist Church runs it, but it’s officially nonsectarian. Plus, the United Methodists have a diversity of opinions, and there are a lot of liberal voices.”

“All the fraternity and sorority signs — not to mention the people wearing t-shirts advertising them — make me think it’s not very restrictive,” Angie said. “I mean, I tend to think of Animal House, you know? And more Delta Tau Chi than Omega Theta Pi.”

“I haven’t actually seen it,” Paige said. “I want to, though!”

“A friend had a copy on VHS,” Angie said, with a slight blush. I was pretty sure it was an ‘oops, I fucked up’ blush, but the others would probably think she was just embarrassed about who that friend might be.

“I haven’t either,” Jas said. “We should rent it and watch it together!” Francis had bought them a VCR about a month ago, and we could certainly find a time to put it to good use. They wouldn’t care if we watched R-rated films (or, most likely, X-rated films, either), especially if they weren’t home at the time.

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I should be able to rent it. I doubt they’d card me.”

Yes, video stores in the 1980s often tried to enforce age restrictions on rentals. This seemed quaint to me, when in the 2010s my kids had been able to find literally just about anything online with no restrictions whatsoever, except for our sometimes feeble attempts to monitor what they were up to on the computer.

“Anyway, there seems to be a lot here,” Angie said. “Like ... a lot. I saw a bit elsewhere — well, not A&M and not Rice, but they’re both notoriously opposed to the whole ‘Greek’ thing — but this seems to be ... a lot more.”

“It goes along with Dallas, maybe?” I said. “I’ve always felt like Dallas is a very, um... ‘society’ sort of town. Fancy clothes, fancy balls, lots of status-seeking, and more as a way of life rather than just the occasional big fancy gala.”

“I hear that, too,” Jas said. “Papa feels that way. He’s glad his job is in Houston, not in Dallas.”

“I like Dallas, though,” I said. “But more to visit, not as a place to live. That’s not a huge dig — I feel the same way about Los Angeles, or San Antonio, or probably a bunch of other places.”

“New Orleans,” Angie said. “I loved visiting it! But I don’t think I’d really want to live there.”

For me, and (maybe?) for Angie, there was the ‘Death Penalty’ to be considered. SMU’s football program had been caught paying one player too many, or ten too many, or however the powers-that-be figured such things, and shut down their entire program for a year — officially. They were unable to recruit, which cost them a second year, and their program — formerly quite strong — was left in a shambles.

If Cal or Andy (or Marshall, or T.J., or any other football player that I knew and liked) seemed to be heading here, I’d do what I could to deter them. Outside of that? My only concern was their football careers. For anyone else, living without a school football team isn’t a matter of life and death. I wanted to go to games and enjoy them, and I’d likely attend a game or two at SMU (while they lasted, anyway), but if the best school for our needs was going to have a disaster strike their football program, we’d still head there. Heck, we were still considering Rice, who weren’t exactly world-beaters in football as a general rule.

It did bring to mind another question: if we went here, or if my friends went here, is this a point where I should intervene? If so, how? Anonymous letters with facts and dates telling the coach, or the athletic director, that ‘they’ have SMU’s number? The problem was, I didn’t know facts and dates. They’d had a ‘slush fund’ from which to pay players, I knew that. Which players were the ones the NCAA could prove anything about? Which staff knew? Which boosters were implicated? I knew none of that. It wasn’t my school, nor my scandal.

And, as with many things, would I just make things worse? Supposing SMU pulled back just enough from the brink to receive just a minor penalty, what might that mean? Would other programs be emboldened? Would the NCAA, not having the example of SMU’s ‘Death Penalty’ to point at, clobber some other program? Who might that affect?

On balance, it wasn’t my fight. It was just another example of the sort of calculus Angie and I would continue to contend with.

The shadows cast by SMU’s stately trees were getting very long by the time we’d finished our stroll around the campus and piled into Angie’s car for the drive to our lodging.

Unbeknownst to Paige and Jasmine, Angie and I had decided that we’d head to the Hyatt. She’d wanted to see it, and Jas and I had loved staying there. Angie figured Paige would, too.

I could tell that Jas figured it out as we got closer, but also realized that Paige didn’t know. It wasn’t until we got into the parking garage that Paige picked up on it.

“What? We’re staying in the hotel with the huge hamster ball on top?”

Angie giggled. “I’m not sure that’s what they call it.”

“Well, that’s what it looks like. I mean, I could’ve said the big ball, but, seriously, some guy would have to be really compensating!”

That got everyone laughing.

Angie and I checked in, and then we rode the elevators up to our rooms. We only paused long enough to put down our bags, because surprise number two was dinner in the big hamster ball, something Paige got plenty of mileage out of.

After dinner, we again hung out in our room. Angie said, “So, do any of us think that we need to see North Texas State tomorrow?”

Everyone shook their heads. Paige said, “I don’t think any of us want to go there.”

“But,” Angie said, “we can’t skip Sam Houston State. Just ... you know...”

“Janet,” Jas said, chuckling. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”