Parity, Not Parody, in College Football

The Absence of Love

After the rally today, I felt something shift. Seven million hearts stood up, and the world didn’t crumble. No fires, no riots, no American carnage. Just people breathing, chanting, hoping. It struck me: when love gathers, fear loses its audience.

My Longest Relationship

Over time, my relationship with higher education has deepened and evolved. I’ve played almost every role there is: the wide-eyed undergraduate, the ambitious graduate assistant, the curious doctoral student, the dedicated professor, the visionary associate dean, the resourceful grant writer, the encouraging staff developer, the passionate college sports professional, the relentless fundraiser, and the director of community and corporate education. I’ve been the one teaching, learning, mentoring, approving, and advocating, sometimes all in the same week.

We Really Don’t Know….

Sometimes I wonder when we all decided we were mind readers. We scroll, we watch, we assume. We fill in the blanks of someone else’s life like we’re writing their story for them.

What if growth isn’t about getting more, but about wanting less?

Last week, over morning coffee, life handed me three chances that would have once felt impossible to pass up.

A younger man told me he loved me.

A company offered me a job I would have dreamed of twenty years ago.

Friends invited me to travel the world.

Friends of All Ages

Oh, my life has been a kaleidoscope of friendships. Right now, my closest friends range from 22 to 80 and somehow, we all make perfect sense together.

The Algorithm Wears No Clothes

The other day one of my girlfriends who is about twenty years older than me called in full panic mode. “Penni,” she said, “my Facebook is full of naked men. What on earth happened to it?”

I nearly spit out my coffee. Then I explained gently, “Sweetheart, Facebook didn’t suddenly turn into a nudist colony. Your algorithm just thinks that’s what you want.”

Family, Faith, and the False Prophet…

What happens when faith turns into fandom and

family becomes collateral damage.

The roaring one minute, then silent the next. Trainers ran to the field. Forty-five minutes passed before the stretcher moved.

I stood there whispering, “Please, let him get up.”

That was the moment I realized football doesn’t just measure yards. It measures hearts. And sometimes, it breaks them.

The scoreboard told one story that day. But the hardest losses I’ve happen on the field.

Unplugging is one of the most underrated American superpowers. We talk about self care and mindfulness as if they are luxury hobbies, but the truth is, most of us just need to turn ourselves off and back on again.

A public service announcement for overcharged Americans.

When One Light Helps Others Glow

Some of the happiest people you know have walked through the dark and somehow returned carrying light for the rest of us.

Jen is one of them. In the last ten years she has survived thyroid cancer, a brain tumor, and a torn Achilles. Five years ago she decided to go back to school and become a counselor, not because life was easy but because she understood pain so well she wanted to help others through theirs. Next week she will have her hip replaced. We joke that when it is done we will be Twinkies, her right hip and my left, two people rebuilt with both science and grace.

Photo Below: You’re looking at a living archive of college football history. The wives who for decades kept the faith, the families, and the game going; one Saturday at a time.

Show Up Anyway

One early August, we had no quarterbacks.

None.

Injury. Illness. Transfer. The football gods emptied our roster just to see what we were made of. I joked about writing a letter: “Dear Opponent, please understand, we literally have no one left to throw the ball.

The Soul of a Nation Is Taught, Not Bought

I have doubted many things in my life, and I have faced the weight of circumstance and resistance from those who could not see what I saw. Yet through it all, I never lost faith in America. I believed, as generations before me did, that this nation was not built on ease but on effort, not on entitlement but on endurance.

Cedars, Chaos, and the Coliseum

I spent most of the day struggling with other people’s issues, the kind that test your patience and your faith in humanity. Brunch with my family was a full-on cluster. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and trying to catch up while our kids were watching was like performing stand-up in church. We couldn’t share half of what we actually did in our childhoods. My family looks like one of your favorite reality shows, loud, dramatic, full of love and chaos, and somehow still on the air. I left that table thinking the hardest part of my day was behind me.

I was wrong.

The Day I Invented the “Slow as Molasses” Offense

Every football program has its bloopers. Some happen on the field. Mine happened online.

It was the early days of social media, long before athletic departments had whole teams of digital strategists. At Tulsa, our sports information director, DT, was not exactly enamored with Twitter or Facebook. He did not want to touch it, so he handed me the reins. Suddenly, I was the voice of Tulsa football.

We made a call for anyone who wanted to accept Christ into their heart. Hands usually rise. Voices usually tremble. But in Belarus, the room was silent.

I have been in these rooms thousands of times. Silence was never the sound. But in Belarus, they have learned to be quiet.

We were told to be quiet about our faith too. It was not hostility, just fear, inherited and unspoken. We spent half a day in a police station, not because we had done anything wrong, but because of our passports. Belarus lives under Putin’s thumb, where suspicion never really sleeps. I nearly gave our host a heart attack when I lifted my camera to photograph the KGB building. To me it was curiosity; to them, it was danger.

Born Between a Strike and a Takeoff

Some people enter the world wrapped in silk blankets, welcomed by lullabies and perfect timing. I arrived in a single wide trailer near Love Field Airport in Dallas, Texas, with airplanes roaring overhead and a mother who was barely old enough to rent a car, let alone raise a child.

The Women Who Call the Shots

It started as just a picture.
Me and Sarah (2007). Tulsa versus UTEP. Her first college football game, not in the stands but on the field, wearing stripes and holding a whistle.

Learning How to See with New Eyes

When I finish my degree next year, you might find me behind the camera or in front of it.
Either way, I think it’s important to understand the camera, because every frame teaches us something about who we are and how we see the world.

I start off Sunday mornings with my 7 AM control Pilates class with Rosie. It feels like a holy ritual all on its own. I started thinking while planking; Jesus was never a Baptist. He wasn’t a Catholic either.