FALL FASHION PREVIEW FOR 'HORNS

by Larry Carlson

When a new coach takes over at most college football programs, one of the first signs of a new day is strictly cosmetic but highly noticeable. The uniforms change. Sometimes, it's splashy, sometimes it's an understated tweak. It can be a bit like a fresh coat of paint and a potted plant outside a flipped house or colorful banners and balloons to signal new ownership at a decaying apartment complex.

You don't pull the uniform change trick at programs with real tradition. It's not gonna happen at the places that essentially haven't ordered Halston, Gucci or Fiorucci designs amid the Oregon trail of Phil Knight fashion oddities over two decades of runway disasters.

Even Oregon has toned it down a tad in recent years. But the "Smoker's Teeth Yellow" shade of jerseys in Eugene is tough to shake from the memory.

You don't fool around with the simple elegance of uniforms at Alabama, Penn State, or USC.

That said, I'm gonna place a uniform adjustment request on my wish list to Steve Sarkisian. Before you cancel me, hear me out. I am not advocating for radical flips to blue suede shoes or raspberry berets.

I would just like Coach Sark's PR & Marketing guys to dial up vintage Texas jerseys once a year, in the "throwback" vein of designated home game promotions.

Take TEXAS off the jerseys. The Horns never needed it. But somebody pushed it through four decades ago, for the 1981 season. Before that, UT had bigger, bolder numbers on the jerseys. And I can assure you, every football fan, every opponent, everyone who passed by a television KNEW who was wearing the burnt orange jerseys or icy whites beneath the greatest helmet in college football.

But a marketing guru sold the powers that be on the angle that now TEXAS would be seen on every jersey, every play. They like to call it branding.

But think of it. Putting your name on your shirt is for "Family Feud" contestants. Or for insecure "little brother" schools like Texas A&M, Okie State, Mississippi State, Washington State, Utah State, and on and on.

Slightly down the food chain, you're talking Group of Five teams that are thinly disguised commuter schools. Think Cincinnati, Memphis, and Houston, sometimes still derisively referred to as "Cougar High."

If you're comfortable in your own skin, you don't need to advertise yourself on your jersey.

Check Bama, Ohio State, Clemson, and most places associated with consistent excellence.

DeLoss Dodds, the esteemed former athletic director, once famously sniffed that UT never had to bother with keeping up with the Joneses. "We ARE the Joneses," he reasoned.

So why did Texas fall for the fashion faux pas the year Dodds took over?. I don't know.

Somebody had forgotten Darrell Royal's edict: "We don't want any candy stripes on our uniforms. These are work clothes," Royal had declared, years earlier.

Every few seasons, the Longhorns will honor a team out of the past and put on the much cooler, much cockier "no-name" throwback jerseys. They did it in 2020 for the Baylor game but inexplicably wore white. At home. Shrug. Again, I don't know. I do know Texas need not act like LSU. Or the Dallas Cowboys. Wear burnt orange jerseys at home, always.

So here's my suggestion. Once a year, honor one of UT's pre-'81 conference champions by putting on the old-school home jerseys. On that gameday, let's double down by stripping the players' names off the back. A little show of modesty never hurt any athlete. The link below starting in the 1930s is great. Please check out the link at

https://texas-lsn.squarespace.com/helmets-jerseys-shoes-and-more

Hey, if you're still shaking your head about "tampering" with a uniform tradition that's now a venerable 40 years old, allow me to tell you a story.

When I was eight years young back in 19 and 61, I went to three home games in Austin and thought nothing could look finer than UT's bright orange (now sometimes known as "Prison Orange" or "Tennessee Orange") jerseys.

When burnt orange replacements were unveiled for 1962, I was as indignant as a nine-year-old fanatic can be. Why they had even taken the single orange stripe off the helmets!

My Dad calmed me. Patience, Larry. Some folks claimed that the new-fangled duds actually -- at least for home games -- enabled those crafty, ground-gobbling Longhorn teams to hide the like-colored pigskin better on handoffs. And an official explanation held that Texas was simply electing to return to the burnt orange shade it had favored before World War II when a dye shortage forced a move to the chirpy, brighter orange.

Burnt orange quickly became my favorite color, as it did for legions of Longhorn fans. And the rest is, as they say, history. Texas welcomed the new threads with its first undefeated (with a tie against Rice) regular season in '62, then topped it with an 11-0 national championship in '63.

Periodically, there have been new twists to the Longhorn uniforms. Shoes and socks have changed. Uniform numbers came off the helmets. Then numbers have been added and subtracted, sporadically, to the shoulders of jerseys.

So now I'm calling for at least a once-per-season return to a simpler, better, more assured look.

Have some confidence, UT. What better way to say "We're Texas," than to NOT have to spell it out?

They know who you are.

And there's already too much minutiae on jerseys (conference logo, sponsor logo, etc., etc.) that makes for puny-sized numerals. Get big and bold again. These ain't soccer jerseys, Pierre.

Longhorn players, if you're worried by the call for simplicity, heed the lyrics of your fellow Texans, the boys of ZZ Top. They famously opined that "They come runnin' just as fast as they can...every girl crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man."

No need for a stickpin, top hat or cufflinks. Just win, baby.

HORNS In WORK CLOTHES

- 30 -

Write to Larry Carlson at lc13@txstate.edu