On Thursdays at the high school where I teach, teachers are allowed to wear jeans if we wear them in conjunction with a college shirt.

The first Thursday of the school year I looked at my green and gold, threw it aside, and put on a dress.

Now, if you know teachers, you know what a huge statement this is.  We will dress in just about any ridiculous kind of way if it means we get to wear jeans, but I couldn’t put the Baylor shirt on and show my pride for a university that let me down so badly.  A university that was willing to sacrifice women for wins.

I love football.  A lot.  I was born in Chicago and have been a rabid Chicago Bears fan from about 1983.  I know the teams, the players, the history.  I understand the strategy and I watch Red Zone on Sundays.  I am invested in the games, the playoffs…  When I was at Baylor, I went to every single home game for four years… and plenty of the road games as well.

That was in the Grant Teaff days…at the end of them anyway.  That was when Baylor was good, but not great.  Baylor played the spoiler more often than not.  “We” randomly beat a team or two in the SWC.  We were more like gnats than anything else.  We weren’t likely to win the conference or contend for a national title, but we were ranked on and off… and we’d come in and beat you… sometimes.  But no one was really worried about us.

Did I think Baylor played fair?  Oh, come on… they ALL cheat.  Every school cheats.  No, I don’t think it’s okay.  I think it’s annoying.  I think either they need to change the rules or do a better job of punishing the cheaters. They all have some version of recruiting violations, and pay for play, and grade infractions… all of them.  So, as a football fan, I sort of accepted all of it.

Then, along came Art Briles…

And it seemed in no time at all that Baylor went from being a gnat to being a juggernaut.  And I saw RGIII playing what seemed to be near flawless football… and wearing Superman socks… and winning the Heisman.  And it didn’t seem to matter whether it were him or anyone else.  Heck, Baylor won a bowl game essentially without using a quarterback. I could find Baylor gear in Academy and in the grocery store, and I didn’t have to go to Waco to get it!  A national championship in football seemed like a matter of time.  I started to worry about strength of schedule… and how “we” could truly make ourselves viable contenders for that final four playoff group.

Did I think we were cheating?  Heck, I knew we were.  Players who were getting slapped on the wrists for drunken disorderly, theft, etc.  But, hey… that happened at ALL the schools.  Still, there were rumors of something much darker, much more insidious.  Players were being recruited who didn’t have the character which Baylor was so proud of touting.  Words like “assault,”  “stalking,”  “arrest” began to circulate more and more about the new recruits.

But “we” were winning.  And I tried to think of it in the “everyone else is doing it” mentality, but it felt wrong.

And was I shocked when the truth came out?

I really would like to say that I was .  Was I horrified?  Yes, I was absolutely horrified.  I was horrified that the university AND the Waco police department were knowingly and purposely suppressing evidence, leaving cases open, lying in order to win football games.  Minimizing and victimizing women to win football games.

So I was too embarrassed to wear my Baylor shirt last Thursday.

I did not want to show support for a university that showed such disregard for others.

I was mostly happy with the way Baylor handled the situation WHEN it came out.  In my opinion,   “we” (and it’s hard to say that HERE… it’s much easier to say that when “we” are winners) did not try to make excuses.  We tried to make reparations.  The university fired and apologized… I don’t know if they cut deeply enough, but I’m glad they did it swiftly full of contrition and fault — and not full of excuses.

And I think back to my Baylor… my BEAUTIFUL Baylor.  My classes is Draper education building (at the top of the page), the wood staircase in Carroll Science (which was actually the English building) where I spent most of my hours at Baylor

Parts of buildings had been around since the school was first established in 1845.  The Burleson quadrangle which made me choose Baylor over the other universities in Texas… more because it was so beautiful than anything else

The stunning… almost breathtaking… splendor of Armstrong Browning library

and oh those Baylor football games… where the freshmen lead the team on the field… where sometimes you actually won!   Where you screamed and yelled and sang the “Good Old Baylor Line”

I loved Baylor.  I really did.  I loved Freshman Follies and foot functions (since dancing wasn’t allowed on campus when I went to school there.)  I loved being a Lariat reporter.  I loved visiting the bear on campus and going to his birthday parties.  I loved my classes and the feel.  I loved the sounds of the bell on the on the quad.  I loved looking at Pat Neff in the spring.

I used to love saying I was a Baylor grad.

I haven’t been back to the campus since I graduated… not for any particular reason.  I just haven’t.

But until this past year I was proud to say I graduated from there.

Baylor won their first post-scandal game last night.  Ho hum.  They may go on to win other games this year, but I’m embarrassed to even care.

This Thursday, I put on my Baylor shirt.

My four years at Baylor happened twenty two years before any scandal.  Hundreds of thousands of graduates have gone to the oldest continuous university in Texas and had nothing to do with victimizing women or beating dogs or getting tattoos of their mistresses on their arms while they were still married to their wives.

So I wore my Baylor shirt.

But when I wore it this week, I wore it with apology not pride.

When people asked me, “Oh, are you a Baylor grad?”  I responded, “Yes, but not a very proud one right now.”

So ‘sic em.  I guess.

I know the scandal will fade.  People’s memories and attention are very short, and it will just become another bad thing that happened sometime a long long time ago.

But I’ll always be saddened that “we” did something that made me embarrassed to wear that shirt.