Dear UT

Someone asked me the other day, “McConaughey, what’s UT football mean to you?” 

I thought of little orange dots. 

It was 2013. I’m up in Iceland working on Interstellar. Remember those scenes on the ice planet? Dr. Mann? Even if you’ve never seen the movie, you’ve seen the poster. Middle of nowhere. Engulfed by glaciers and frozen fjords. It was a dark 1 o’clock in the morning, with only the dim twilight of a setting harvest moon. Vast. Astonishing. Otherworldly. Like I was actually on another planet.

There I was, making an epic movie with Christopher Nolan and Anne Hathaway and Matt Damon. Life was perfect. What else could I want?

The game. I needed to watch the game. 

We were playing Ole Miss. 

The whole week, the teamsters were telling me, “Ah, don’t worry McConaughey, we got it all figured out. We’ll make sure the TV in your trailer has the game on.” 

I said, “In the middle of nowhere in Iceland?”

“We got it sorted, McConaughey,” they said.

This particular workday was a “night shoot,” meaning the set up for the big shot after lunch would give me plenty of time to tune into my 1 a.m. Longhorn kickoff. Perfect.

…Except nobody could figure out how to get the game on. As I suspected, reception ain’t so good on the surface of Mars. Shit. What am I gonna do?

There was this one spot though, this one spot a few hundred yards away from basecamp in the middle of the frozen tundra, where folks said they’d hike out to just to coax a single bar onto their phone.

Still in my spacesuit, I grabbed a wobbly three-and-a-half-legged plastic chair and marched to the one bar pop-up spot. I held my phone to the sky, got that beautiful bar, and tapped into the ESPN drive chart. For the next three-and-a-half hours, I sat in that three-and-a-half-legged chair under the black heavens and watched little orange and blue dots ping across my screen.

What can I say? Had to watch my Longhorns. From another planet. It was well below freezing but it sure felt warmer whenever those little orange dots marched down the field. 

At Texas, football is our front porch. We can be anywhere in the world, but if UT is on, we’re there. We’re back home again. Transported. Enraptured. Rooting for the burnt orange dots to cross our screen. What in your life is a must watch like that? 

Now, I won’t sugarcoat it. These last two weeks have been a kick in the teeth. But as fans, I think we gotta look in the mirror a little bit. I think we’ve become a little bit complacent and reactive. It was a 60/40 burnt orange crowd in Dallas for Oklahoma, but they were louder than we were. And against Florida last week it took us until 3:50 on the clock in the 4th for DKR to really come alive. 

“Oh shut up, McConaughey. Who do you think you are to tell us how to root for our team?” 

I hear you. I never played a down for the Longhorns. Hell, most of us didn’t. The best I ever did was win an intramural golf championship. But like you, I’m a fan. An out-of-my -mind loyal nutcase when it comes to UT football. I’m also someone who knows that we, as fans, can affect the game in more ways than we give ourselves credit for. We can support our team, yes. But we can also ignite them.

They ain’t playing so good? Well, that’s when they need us most. To remind THEM to remind THEMSELVES that they CAN play better. Right now, starting with Saturday night against Ole Miss, is exactly the time when we need to come together and (pardon my French) show the f*** up for these players.

Did those boys give up at halftime against Ohio State? Neither can we.

Let’s admit the new rules of engagement. Every week in the SEC from now on is a playoff game. Every week is going to be a badass dogfight. And we better bring that mentality to DKR on Saturday night, because Trinidad and those boys are going to be coming in with confidence. Oh yeah. Bet on it. You think after waxing Missouri they’re not going to try and come into our building like they own it? So, when they walk out of that tunnel, they need to hit a wave of sound that lets them know exactly who owns the house they’re in. We do.

And that starts with you in the student section. YOU set the tone. YOU are who makes THEM feel US. Pardon my preaching, but let me share a fact with you from a 56-year-old man with three kids. You’re never going to get this chance again.

Yes, years from now you’re going to be sitting around with your buddies having a beer saying, “Man, how awesome were those Saturdays? Wouldn’t it be great to go back?” 

But you won’t be able to, not as a Longhorn student. 

Truth is, you only get one take. A movie set is the only place on earth where they give you five takes to get it right. In sports, and in life, it’s one and done. So make it count. 

Speaking of multiple takes, fact is that my best work has always been the first one. 

In Interstellar, when Coop is watching the video of his kids on the spaceship — FIRST TAKE.

In Dazed and Confused, when Wooderson says, “Alright, alright, alright” — FIRST TAKE.

In A Time to Kill, when Jake Brigance gives the closing argument — FIRST TAKE.

In Dallas Buyers Club, when Ron pulls over to the side of the road and realizes he’s going to die — FIRST TAKE.

In Wolf of Wall Street, when Hanna is beating his chest with the “Hmm—Hmm—Hmm” tune — FIRST TAKE.

Why? Because I convinced myself I only HAD one take, even though I had more if I wanted.

So here’s the question. Wanna play it safe? Tighten up? Maybe go into a prevent defense mindset? Get on our mental heels instead of our toes? Maybe just say the lines, connect the dots, play the part? Make sure not to offend anybody? Dare NOT to be great? 

That’s a good recipe for regret.

F**k that. All gas no breaks, baby. Vince Young at the Rose Bowl. 

Enough naysaying, nail biting, and belly aching. Let’s get primal Saturday night. Asses out of seats with some good ’ol apocalyptic pandemonium putting a ringing in the ears of Mr. Chambliss every time he steps under center. Let’s break a sweat in the stands and dare ourselves to wake up sore on Sunday. 

It’s Ole Miss. It’s our front porch in the house we own. 

Leave nothing in the tank and make it a night of no regrets. 

One take, baby. 

– McConaughey, UT ’93