How to lose a game

Well, for me those last few minutes are such a blur. I remember jumping and screaming...and tears of joy. I remember wishing I had one of these. There were hugs and high fives, goosebumps and 'Texas Fights.' 3 points to tie the game. We were gonna do it.

Then I remember the fumble, followed by an eruption of cheers from the crimson and white. The band was playing, but it wasn't our band. I remember the sweet dad in front of me and his eternal optimism...he never quit telling his son to keep his chin up. I loved him.

I (barely) remember the final interception from our young second-stringer. My head was in a haze. I remember the hot tears on my cold cheeks. I remember the weepy sounds I let escape, knowing no one would hear me in that stadium. I remember those beloved Horns giving it all they had. They played their hearts out, just to have them crushed. I remember thinking It wasn't supposed to be this way. Not like this.

I remember the end. The confetti was everywhere and it was red. Not orange. I remember the SEC chants, and rolling my eyes. I was a mess. I remember straining to hear The Eyes of Texas from the black hole that was my seat in the Rose Bowl with my Horns held high. I remember the mean, offensive song and the Houndstooth-clad fans singing it in our faces, pointing and cavorting. I remember Jeremy telling them how he felt about that.

But then I saw this. Folks, this is how you lose a game. No excuses. No whining. Just praising God and the other team. Colt McCoy is a winner for the way he lost on Thursday night. It was a joy watching him play these last four years.