TCU Football: Dear Opponent - Pony Up!

Every week, KillerFrogs writes a heartfelt letter to their football opponent. This week the Frogs will be visiting Dallas to take on the Ponies, and On SI's SI is here for the roast

Sep 6, 2024; Dallas, Texas, USA; A view of a Southern Methodist Mustangs helmet during the game between the Southern Methodist Mustangs and the Brigham Young Cougars at Gerald J. Ford Stadium. Mandatory Credit: Jerome Miron-Imagn Images / Jerome Miron-Imagn Images

Dear Ponies,

We are now three games into this football season--can you believe it? And today, somehow, it was still 100 degrees. It appears the weather in Texas is unaware that football season has commenced--or is aware and nevertheless unreasonably obdurate to concede its glory to a sport designed for enjoyment during fall's cool breezes. Either way, today, it was hot out as a long-heated iron skillet.

Speaking of iron skillets, I'm told that relative to TCU and SMU's 109-year-old rivalry, dating back to 1915 (compliments of Wikipedia. But please, do not hold me to these facts, Wikipedia being my source and, further, I'm not sure about the math), rather than boast a belt or trophy, the winner of each game is provided an Iron Skillet which remains in their possession until the other defeats them to win it back. It appears we have been in possession of said Skillet for two years. And, if I may kvetch a bit, a lot of good it has done me, and could do me, as I have no taste whatsoever for pony, whether roasted, oven-roasted, fried, panfried, broiled, boiled, battered, baked, shaken, stewed or otherwise.

Nor do I have much taste for your team, I'll admit. For one, as a man of refined taste, yours appears rather poor, having chosen Dallas as your home city, and further featuring on your premises the George W. Bush presidential library. Having said that, and to his credit, he did beat his rival twice, didn't he? You should ask him what that feels like.

Either way, I can confidently say that were this Iron Skillet, roasting pony, to get out of hand, the only victims at that particular library would be a bust, a statue, and a few woodblocks. Not a single book or reader would be touched. Maybe a fetlock, a saddle, a pommel, and a rein. And that's about it.

Now, recognizing I may sound prejudicial against ponies, to say nothing of the presidential library, I would like to protest: I love Mr. Ed. Though whether he was technically a pony, I couldn't say. I do like that he possessed the wit to know when it was time for bed he had already eaten the hay he was to hit, and it gave him a mental block to realize horses can sleep while standing.

And so do ponies. Two years consecutively, we have entered this famed rivalry (so famous it features a Wikipedia page I have put to good use) and encountered a somnambulant herd. Indeed, somehow even last year, our most forgetful in modern history, we managed to cook you, 34-17.

As of now, we appear to be roughly evenly matched this season. We delivered a blowout, and HCU (who?) delivered you a bow out. We spat at Stanford; you finally galloped over Nevada. And then got mounted by a band of Mormons.

And Saturday we'll be seeing you again, fighting over an Iron Skillet that remains, far as I'm aware, unused by any person in the Western hemisphere.

We had a little hiccough last week. Maybe I should revise that to we had a fine first half and then vomited everywhere. I suppose our boys may have had a premonition, caught a bad stench, maybe the fumes of a future roasted pony.

Best of luck,

SI

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