Scott Wilson and I had much in common: Both Texas-born European-American males, both way into sports and both proud possessors of a diploma from our state’s flagship institution. There were differences, however, as will soon be clear.
A native of Austin, Wilson was seven when his father took him to a University of Texas football game. The 1958 season was Darrell Royal’s second as coach, and the Longhorns lost to SMU, 26-10. Wilson senior bought the boy an orange-and-white pennant which was still in his possession at his death on October 31. To the best of my knowledge, Wilson was not a member of any team at McCallum High School, from which he graduated in 1969. But he did serve as drum major. He was also in the Longhorn Band all four of his undergraduate years.
He majored in accounting at UT, earned a law degree from Baylor and passed the bar handily. So it should be evident that he did not lack in brain power or the ability to buckle down and achieve. I wish Wilson were still around so I could ask him just when and how his devotion (“fanaticism” is probably a better word) to our alma mater’s athletic teams took root. I have read that by the mid-1970s, he had already gained a measure of notoriety as leader of the self-described “Wild Bunch,” a group of young men who sat behind opposing dugouts at Clark Field (and later Disch-Falk Field). Apart from lustily cheering for the Horns, they tossed zingers at players who represented opposing Southwest Conference, Big 12 and SEC baseball teams or whoever was on the schedule.
Wilson made good use of his education with a long career in state government. His main employers were the Attorney General’s office, the Texas Retirement System and the Texas Municipal League Multistate Intergovernmental Employee Benefits Pool. While with the AG, he appeared before the Texas Supreme Court and the U.S. Fifth and D.C. Circuit Courts and argued in many appellate matters.
Here is something else I would dearly love to know: How, working a full-time job, was he able to attend 594 consecutive UT football games and 1,564 consecutive baseball games—both home and away? He once told a reporter that if UT had a game in Timbuktu, he would have gone.
All right, most college football games are played on Saturdays, so getting to Memorial Stadium, Kyle Field, etc. would not be too difficult. There were 10 during DKR’s second season, and that figure mushroomed to 16 for the 2024 Horns. Wilson was not unique in never missing a football game. But orange-and-white baseball, which he seemed to love even more, was something else entirely. I will pick the 1987 season at random. UT went 61-11, and he was at every single one, regardless of the weather. That included home games against Miami, Texas Lutheran, UT Arlington, Hardin-Simmons, Cal Santa Barbara, Southwestern, St. Mary’s, Oklahoma, Washington State, Western Kentucky, Southwestern Louisiana, Kansas State, Emporia State, Lubbock Christian, TCU, South Alabama, Rice, Dallas Baptist, Texas Tech and Houston. On the road, it was Arizona State, Baylor, Texas A&M and Arkansas. Clint Gustafson’s team hosted seven games in the SWC tourney and the NCAA Central Regionals—all victories, by the way—and then played five games in the College World Series in Omaha. Texas finished third, behind Stanford and Oklahoma State. Wilson saw each one, and he did this year after year. Oh, and how about the game at “the Disch” in 2009 against Boston College when UT needed 25 innings (7 hours and 3 minutes) to secure a 3-2 win? The indefatigable Wilson stayed for the whole thing. I knew him well enough that I can say without fear of contradiction that he loudly supported his team with every pitch thrown. Furthermore, he was consistently positive; Wilson was not one to grumble about coaches or players.
Here is a football anecdote from the first semester of his freshman year. As a member of the band, he was in Fayetteville for the titanic Texas–Arkansas game—the de facto 1969 national championship game—in which James Street engineered a 15-14 victory. Before heading back to Austin, Wilson encountered some dejected UA fans at a gas station. You think he consoled these guys? Not a chance. The brassy, ballsy Texan informed them that Arkansas was “just one of those little piss-ant states, like Alabama and Mississippi.”
Baseball and football were clearly his favorites, but he did not ignore UT basketball, track, volleyball, swimming, softball, golf, tennis and even rowing. When Wilson was out of the office, he always adorned himself with Longhorns “merch.” He had a library of nothing but Texas sports books, and that included three of mine. Shortly after Longhorn Hoops was published (1998), he hosted a gathering with me as the honoree. But Wilson, with his garrulous ways, over-the-top personality and joie de vivre, was really at the center. It could not have been otherwise. This was the only time I visited his house at 10006 Woodstock Drive, and let me tell you it was a veritable University of Texas shrine—every square inch of every wall, floor and ceiling had something about the Horns.
In his final years, he was sometimes handed the microphone and asked to sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” Wilson was by then overweight and wore suspenders to hold up his baggy shorts. When he got to the words “the home team,” he changed them to “the Ho-orns.” I don’t think he ever cared too much about looking pretty. Wilson seemed to accept himself completely, and he had friends galore, even Sooners and Aggies. How could you not love a guy who owned a burnt orange 1975 Caddy tricked-up like what Chill Wills used to drive?
He suffered a heart attack in Jacksonville, on his way to the Texas-Florida football game, and so ended his two amazing streaks. Brought back to Austin, he was put in hospice care and died 27 days later. His sister Nancy was his main caretaker and spokeswoman. I regret that I cannot attend his funeral services, set for November 9 at St. John’s United Methodist Church. Reference was made to Wilson as UT’s “superfan” before the Vanderbilt game on November 1. It is my hope that serious—a word not often used to describe Wilson—consideration will be given to putting him in the Longhorn Hall of Honor.
I am not about to criticize this orangeblood, who was covered in the Austin American-Statesman, Los Angeles Times, CNN, ESPN and other venues. I was proud to be in his very wide circle, and I can find many reasons to admire and respect him. Perhaps you are expecting the word “but,” and here it is. His single-minded focus on UT sports confounded me. I would get bored attending far fewer than the 200 sporting events that were his annual norm. As I have gotten older, I tend to look at big-time college athletics with a jaded eye. Jump up and down and scream, “Our mercenaries can beat your mercenaries”? Not me. I quit saying, “Hook ’em” shortly after my student days. And anyway, there are bigger, far bigger, issues than whether the Longhorns (choose the sport) will win their next game. I tend to brood a lot, and what a contrast with Wilson. You could say he was a happier man than I am, if his frequent belly laughs were indicative. While he had a fine career as a lawyer and civil servant, he surely could have done more. That sounds judgmental, I realize. But I will bet you dollars to donuts that some of his colleagues in the legal field would quietly agree.
Wilson, God bless him, was just a spectator. He may have been the most active fan, but fandom is nevertheless passive by its very nature. Through his 74 years, he should have taken better care of himself—as seen by that enormous gut. He ought to have eaten and drunk less, and exercised more. I will conclude on a positive note by saying that Scott Wilson was unique. A man with a big soul, he lived fully the life he chose and will not soon be forgotten.
Assistant drum major at McCallum HS in Austin…
Recognition for UT’s #1 fan…
In his man-cave at home…
Texas baseball players just loved this guy…
Scott’s Caddy…
Before the Texas-Vandy game, the day after his death…
The hearse that carried his casket….
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