Life of a Superstitious Sooners Fan

I decided to start a running log of the small superstitions that drive my day leading up to a Sooners game. As a brief history of what I go through on game day and throughout the season, I will give you some of my highlights.

I start the the season deciding on my game day outfit down to the underwear. If the team plays great, nothing changes the next week. I wash everything. I do not believe in superstitions that compromise personal hygiene, but the game day outfit does not get changed until a loss, or if I feel like I need to do something drastic to change the team momentum. I would consider outfit the most important superstition. Here is a list of others that I am bound to during a football season.

1. I avoid talking to certain people on game day.

2. I make sure I talk to certain people.

3. I never shave, but sometimes I feel like I need to shave the day before a game.

4. I make sure I am showered and clean to watch the game.

5. I have certain shirts that I avoid wearing to bed the night before (most of them are actually OU shirts), and in really stressful seasons (this being one of them), I am concerned with every article I wear or don't wear to bed the night before.

6. I have a game day beer brand, much like the outfit, when I am watching the game at home. The beer doesn't change unless there is a loss while drinking that beer.

7. I make sure I drive the same way home if I work on a game day.

8. I arrange or build things like beer can pyramids to change momentum during a game. That one worked pretty well 2000 against A&M when OU came from behind to win.

9. I change viewing positions in the house.

10. I change shirts, wear more than one shirt, and when all else fails, I just take off my shirt.

There are several other small ones that I will take note of during the course of the day. Tomorrow's game will have a lot of new things I try because we are coming off of a loss. It should be a relatively easy win for the Sooners in Norman which may limit some of my superstitious antics, but we'll see. I will keep a running log and post the results Sunday.

RESULTS

Friday, Nov. 13


7:00 p.m. I am concerned keeping a log of my superstitions is bad luck.

7:15 p.m. Bite a fingernail and consider it bad luck. Stop biting fingernails.

9:28 p.m. Lose to wife in a game of Popomatic Trouble. Worry it is a bad sign.

11:50 p.m. Move coffee table to play Wii. Make sure I put it back in the exact same place when I am finished.


Saturday, Nov. 14 Game Day


7:11 a.m. Realize it is going to be sunny, consider this a good sign.

10:09 a.m. Realize I slept in the same underwear I wore last week during the game and consider this bad luck.

3:30 p.m. Decide not to change sponge head while washing dishes, could be bad luck.

4:25 p.m. Push myself very hard at gym for good luck.

4:45 p.m. Worry I worked too hard at the gym and I won't have enough energy for the game.

4:47 p.m. Debate whether or not to use conditioner while in shower, decide to use conditioner.

4:50 p.m. Contacts are stinging my eyes and I worry about having to wear glasses during the game.

4:50 p.m. Wonder if wearing glasses will actually be good luck.

4:51 p.m. Deliberate on which pair of glasses are more lucky to wear.

4:52 p.m. Consider cologne options and decide Polo Sport is bad luck, wear different cologne

4:59 p.m. Choose outfit very carefully, taking note which articles of clothing seem lucky. Decide to go with Peterson jersey over Bradford.

5:08 p.m. A friend invites me to bar to watch game, decline immediately (I don't go out in public during OU games unless I am watching live).

5:24 p.m. Wife goes to grocery store. Concerned about her beer selection.

5:25 p.m. Worry again about recording superstitions.

5:30 p.m. Wonder if I should get beer from fridge or wait for wife. Decide to wait.

5:36 p.m. Consider calling Dad then reconsider and decide it is luckier to call closer to game time.

5:50 p.m. Change channel to station game is on ten minutes early.

6:11 p.m. Turn off computer sitting on coffee table. Consider screen bad luck.

6:14 p.m. Decide to get a beer from fridge since wife is still not home. Next play after opening beer OU scores defensive TD. Realize I will keep drinking these beers because they are good luck.

6:34 p.m. Change seat after OU continues to struggle offensively.

6:39 p.m. Wife gets home. Offense scores TD. Wife is lucky.

6:55 p.m. OU turns ball over while FSN shows a cut away story between plays, consider the story unlucky.

7:05 p.m. Game is tight, worried about underwear selection.

7:06 p.m. Concerned about superstition log.

7:07 p.m. Lay down, offense makes nice play. Worried sitting up will be bad luck.

7:08 p.m. Sit back up.

7:09 p.m. Lay back down.

7:10 p.m. Sit back up.

7:17 p.m. Switch beer brands.

7:19 p.m. Consider jersey change.

7:24 p.m. Looks like beer change is working.

7:35 p.m. Worry about taking last swallow of beer during a play.

7:38 p.m. Stand up.

7:38 p.m. Sit back down.

7:40 p.m. Getting the feeling glasses are lucky.

8:00 p.m. Everything is working. Gonna wear glasses every time I watch OU on TV going forward.

For those that watched the game you know at this point the Sooners took control and it became a blow out. I shut down the superstitions once the game was in control. It was nice to see the 60+ point mark cracked again. I didn't realize last week was Friday the 13th, until today. I don't follow any traditional superstitions. Mine are my own.

Well, there you have it. A sampling of my life on a game day. Good thing the game was only in question for a little over a quarter or this would be a much longer post.

Bus Stop to Bathroom: A College Story

My senior year of college I moved into a house with two friends in East Norman, Oklahoma. For those reading this that know Norman geography, it was on the corner of E Brooks and 12th Avenue. I spent the previous two years living in a fraternity house and I was extremely excited to have a place that felt more like a home. Some place that I didn't have to wear shoes in the shower. A place where I wouldn't be woke up by drunk idiots breaking bottles at 5am. Somewhere there wasn't ketchup (hopefully) sprayed all over the walls. Some place I could bring my parents or girlfriend without them leaving in tears. You get the point.

I was very happy with my new surroundings on Brooks Street. My roommates and I took full advantage of our patio, spending hours outside telling stories, laughing and staying up too late. One very late weekend morning (I'm talking 6am late), we heard some strange sounds coming from outside. We all shrugged it off and went to bed, but moments later I heard it again louder than before. It kind of sounded like a wild animal singing. If there were words being shouted, it was only an accident. What was really amazing was the projection and volume of the noises. They penetrated the walls of the house with ease. When I heard it again, I got up to investigate.

I went into the backyard and peeked through the fence and saw a very large man with Down syndrome standing at the bus stop across the street, smiling and singing a song he seemed to be making up. At that moment I felt a very noticeable swell of pride in my chest for that man. He obviously had a disability, but he was standing at the bus stop on his way somewhere without a chaperone. He was self sufficient, and happy enough to burst out in song at 6am.

Monday came and I realized the man I heard singing Saturday must sleep in weekends, after I awoke to another song from Bus Stop Idol, this time at 5am. There was no swell in my chest, but it didn't bother me understanding the circumstances.

As a side note: For me to wake up from someone singing across the street is impressive in itself. For me to wake up at 5am during my college years is unbelievable. For me to wake up at 5am from someone singing across the street during my college years is nearly impossible. Only one of the loudest noise makers on this planet could have woke me. As a child in San Diego I can remember sleeping through earthquakes. An earthquake couldn't wake me, but a gentleman across the street at a bus stop could. By singing. His voice was stronger than nature.

A few days went by and I had not heard my friend the singer. I was relieved when I awoke to him belting out a few lines from a song I called "Happy Day," as those were the only words I thought I recognized.

The following day I was jolted awake again by the thunderous tenor of my bus stop friend. It started to get irritating.

My car broke down driving home from class that semester. While I planned logistics of getting to and from class, it dawned on me that I would have to take the bus. The first day I was at the university bus stop to go home, I saw my friend also waiting. He had a female friend with him that I assumed was his girlfriend. I surmised they probably worked in the Student Union. There is a large dining area there with several restaurants grouped together. It is one of the major hubs on campus. The Union employed several capable workers with Down syndrome to bus tables and empty the garbage. Pretty inspiring to see in action.

As we rode home together on the bus, I noticed he was fairly aggressive with his girlfriend. Not in a scary way, but one that made me take notice and then try not to look back. There was some definite kissing and groping that I would have rather not seen. I realized why he felt compelled to sing at the bus stop. Apparently my friend had a bit of charm with the ladies.

He left earlier in the morning than I did so I never got to see if he would sing with an audience, but we rode the bus home together several times and he appeared to have many girlfriends. I began to see him at work, interacting with his co workers. He was the most popular guy of the bunch. He had a bit of a bully streak in him probably due to the fact he outweighed his nearest male co worker by 50 pounds,easily. The women loved him and the men feared him. I began to refer to him as the King.

The Union had a large clean bathroom. It was spacious with five urinals and three stalls. Because of this, I made it a point to use the bathroom whenever I was there. One afternoon, I finished my lunch and headed to the Union bathroom. I walked in to a completely empty room and went to the furthest urinal from the door. I unzipped my pants and started to go when I heard the door swing open. I didn't look over at first, just continued what I was doing.

I started to hear loud, lumbering steps approaching me and noises that sounded like a wild boar eviscerating a squirrel. There were guttural mutterings followed by snorts that seemed to be wet and over exaggerated. I turned my head to see what was making all the noise and discovered it was the King. We locked eyes for a brief moment and I looked away quickly, getting suddenly nervous. There was a look in his eyes that I interpreted as a warning.

As I continued to go, he walked directly behind me passing up the four open urinals and three open stalls. When I say directly, I mean no more than two inches belly to back.

At this point I was nervous with my pants unzipped, not a good combination. I wonder for a brief moment if he suspects me of spying on him and he picked the perfect time to exact revenge. I have no idea what he's going to do, but I can't finish going fast enough. I felt his breath on the back of my neck and his snarling noises got louder, more impatient.

Just as I started to wrap things up, a couple of guys walked into the bathroom. I must have looked scared. I can't imagine what I would do if I walked in on something like that, but I can tell you what they did. They started laughing their asses off. It was clear I had no idea how to handle the situation.

I didn't even get a chance to feel embarrassed before the King suddenly screamed, DAMN IT!!!! at full house penetrating volume, directly in my ear. That scared the rest of the pee out of me and I jumped like a teenage girl at a horror movie. My hand jerked with the rest of my body leaving me spraying wildly and helplessly. It was quite simply the biggest shock of my life. My heart was beating like hummingbird wings and the hair on my arms and neck were standing on end. A funny tingling ran from my spine to my ears, and my eyes were wide open, unable to blink.

When I finished, I swallowed hard and cautiously side stepped to get out of his way. The two other people in the bathroom were close to tears laughing. They didn't try to go to the bathroom. They just stood by the sink near the entrance and watched the scene unfold.

The King wasted no time ripping down his pants and going, groaning in relief. I understood that I must have been using his personal toilet. I hastily fastened my pants and got the hell out of there as fast as I could, not bothering to wash my hands. I only had time to shoot the other guys a dirty look as they were just beginning to compose themselves.

When I got home and recounted the traumatizing event, my friends thought I was making it up. Then it became a running joke and they would yell, "damn it!" when my back was turned.

I'm sure the King continued to sing in the morning, but I never woke up to him blasting out lyrics again. After I heard the full boom of his massive voice directly in my ear, I became immune to his morning serenades.

We continued to ride the bus together, but I made sure our paths didn't cross much after that. I always wondered if he held a grudge or if it was the urgency of the moment he was shouting about. Whatever the case, I didn't use the Union bathroom after the incident. I felt like he marked his territory very clearly.