"(I) want to build a university our football team can be proud of."

Nearly 64 years ago, shortly after World War II had ended and America was breathing a sigh of relief for the boys who returned back home, one state was stuck in turmoil. From the late 20's on into the 40s, and even 50s but we'll get to that in a bit, Oklahomans had suffered through much. The Depression destroyed families and ruined economies. Drought led to the Dust Bowl, eliminating farms in the blink of an eye, if you were lucky enough to blink during the dust storms rolling through the plains. More than a million fled west to California, where they were treated with derision, called "Okies" with the same venom as African-Americans were called--well, you know what they were called--and segregated just the same. Once the Dust Bowl subsided war struck. Just like Americans from the other 47 states, Oklahomans left in droves to protect the world from the evils of Hitler's Third Reich and Hirohito's Empire. And just like everywhere else, many of the young men never returned home. But this isn't about why you should feel sorry for Oklahoma. Instead, it is about how Oklahoma turned their fortunes around all by themselves.

Sometime after the war, the Regents at the University of Oklahoma recognized the state was in a perpetual state of depression, and not just financially. They, along with the university's president, George Lynn Cross, decided the best way to lift up the school's spirits was through football. The teams of old, before the war, before the dust's plague, were tough teams that brought great entertainment to those living in Norman, Oklahoma City, Stillwater and Tulsa. It seemed football would be just the thing to make them happy again.

Searching far and wide, the team landed upon Jim Tatum, an assistant coach at the Iowa Pre-Flight School. Tatum would do exactly what the school needed, bring in the highly-talented war veterans. When the Regents met with Tatum, and his colleague whom Tatum insisted on bringing along, the board knew they had their coach, but it was their assistant and not Tatum himself. Listening to Cross, they extended the offer to Tatum but demanded that he is only allowed to take it if he brought his assistant along. A year later, Tatum left and the assistant, Bud Wilkinson, took over.

Fast forward six years, to 1953, and Wilkinson has taken the Oklahoma Sooners from a good squad of soldiers who could win the Big Seven Conference with regularity and beat upon Texas with emotion and transformed it into a national program, with its first Heisman Trophy winner in the form of Billy Vessels in 1952 and had already won 31 games straight and a national championship in 1950 (before falling to Kentucky in the Sugar Bowl.) But it's what happened that year and the next several years that transformed more than a football team.

In 1953, Oklahoma was a team on the brink of something special and the men and women in the state could feel it, too. As the team, first led by Gene Calame, fell early to Notre Dame to open the season followed by a tie against Pittsburgh, few outside of the state thought Oklahoma was poised to do much that season. But then Oklahoma rolled through Texas and cleared away the competition in the Big Seven Conference. The next year saw little change in the way of the excellence, despite a new class of players with Jimmy Harris as their leader, as OU cruised through their schedule without a blemish.

1955 saw the most powerful team Oklahoma and Wilkinson had put together yet. After blowing by a non-conference slate of North Carolina, Pitt and Texas and then throttling the Big Seven, Oklahoma faced their old coach, Jim Tatum who was now leading Maryland, in the Orange Bowl. Prior to the game, many thought OU had no chance against an East Coast team and that their No. 1 ranking would be given to the deserving Terps after the bowl game. Unfortunately for the prognosticators, Oklahoma upended Maryland, surprised America and put the Sooners on the brink of something thought unachievable: this football team had just won 30 games straight.

The next year can be labeled by many as a repeat season, but you can hardly label anything as repetitive when you are talking about doing something no one else did. The sporting world no longer remained the only section that knew Oklahoma was more than dust and turmoil. With the musical Oklahoma! becoming a movie, Mickey Mantle a fledgling outfielder with the Yankees and the Carl Albert the Majority Whip of the House, Oklahomans were making a name for themselves as a hard-working lot that refused to take anything standing down. When the season ended on the Sooners, not only had they captured another conference title and beat up Texas yet again, but they refused to let more than half of their opponents score upon them and snapped Washington's old winning streak of 39 games. As impressive as the winning streak had become, it was even more impressive when you realize that the graduating class of football players that year never lost a football game during their collegiate careers. One player, Jerry Tubbs, lost his first game of his life in 1957 as a linebacker for the NFL's Chicago Cardinals.

The streak continued for seven more games when Oklahoma faced Notre Dame, the very team they last lost to in 1953. After the first half, with a scoreless tie glaring at the team on the new electronic scoreboard, Wilkinson prayed the team would escape with a 7-7 tie. In the fourth quarter with just under four minutes left, David Lynch ran the ball around the right of the line and punched into the end zone for the game's only score. With the streak stopped at 47 games the stadium, and nation, fell into shock. The fans didn't know what to do. Shortly after the teams were shaking hands on the field, the stadium opened into applause congratulating both the Sooners and the Irish. A half-hour later, fans still sat in their seats hoping for a few extra minutes of play.

And while the streak ended on that day, November 16, 1957 (which was also, incidentally, the 50th anniversary of Statehood,) the passion and pride Oklahomans felt afterwards for their team, their school and their state never died. Today, after highs and lows in Oklahoma Football, after tornadoes have ripped through the state countless times and one deranged man tried to cripple a city that fateful April morning in 1995, pride in being an Oklahoman continues unabated.

"Where the Wind Comes Sweeping Down the Plains"

I think my friends Chris and Ally said it best when they declared me a vagabond. In my short life, I have lived in many different places for many different reasons. Starting off as a Navy Brat and later as a young adult jumping ship only to escape what could happen, my nomadic lifestyle has been booth a hindrance and a blessing.

The hindrance since I have yet to establish myself at any location. The constant uprooting and resettling creates a revolving door of friendships and contacts. While some friends last, many others unfortunately fall to the wayside.

The blessing, however, is the unpredictable. The opportunity to hit the reset button in life, immerse in new societies and discover what a city has to offer outside of the tourist attractions.

The month of April can best be described as an accelerated version of my nomadic life. Between Oklahoma City, Washington, D.C., Chattanooga, TN, and Dallas, I've logged more than 5,000 miles in my truck. I visited old friends and spent time with family along the way. And through it all, I learned two important things.

Firstly, I need to settle down. I need to stop moving around all the time and start living a "normal" life. The constant uprooting does nothing but wreak havoc on my wallet, my sanity and, frankly, my ability to grow up. It's a lot of fun to travel around and to live in many different cities. However, something should also be said for living in one town and traveling the world on vacation.

The second lesson, and probably the more interesting one, is how much of an Okie I really am. In high school, I always talked about taking the first plane out of Oklahoma as soon as I graduated. I wasn't going to look back. Chicago was the focus of attention and I didn't want to shy away from it. By the time I started college, at the University of Oklahoma, I proclaimed to be from Illinois. I admitted to going to high school in Oklahoma City but left it at that. And it was true. I was born in Illinois and I did go to school in Oklahoma City, but aside from visiting family in the Land of Lincoln, I hadn't lived in the state in years.

But the reality hit a bit when I finally left Oklahoma, six months after college. I had finished a campaign and was heading to DC to try out the political life. I wanted to be a congressional staffer and was determined to make it. Little did realize how many other kids my age shared the same dream, and how few positions were truly available to fulfil the dream. In the course of ekeing out a living, before I finally landed a job as a government analyst, I still mentioned that I was originally from Illinois but started mentioning Oklahoma more often. Of course, being an insane OU football fan helps bring out the Okie in me.

When I arrived in Chicago, however, being from Illinois became an afterthought. I would always talk about Oklahoma, bringing up the politics, the Oklahoma City Thunder, and Oklahoma football. I was beginning to take pride in my Sooner upbringing, and not just from the university. Returning to Oklahoma in April really brought out how much Oklahoma truly is where I am from. I may have lived in several other places, and have been born in another state, but Oklahoma is my home state. And I take great pride in that.

I'm sure many people, especially those in Chicago, will say Oklahoma has always been my home, but it usually takes longer for people to see the obvious. For me, it seemed to have taken a little over ten years, maybe longer. It doesn't matter how long the realization took, however, just that it happened.

That appears true for many people. We, as humans, are so consumed with the world around us that we ignore the truth in front of us. Even those who are consumed with themselves, the vain members of our society, cannot notice what is truly staring back at them in the mirror. And usually it is those conceited few who never discover the truth.

Sad, really, to think someone will live their entire life and never realize the lessons they are to learn and discover who they are meant to be. Or maybe it is they who always knew who they were to be but refuse to acknowledge it out of fear of failure?