KU vs Oklahoma Football

jason bean putting his face in a towel

Reign on the Plains: Kansas Beats Oklahoma (and the Weather)

As a proud resident of Lawrence, a graduate of the University of Kansas, and a man who once tried to tailgate using a George Foreman grill plugged into his Prius, I am ecstatic to celebrate our recent football victory over Oklahoma.

This was a biblical one. It rained so hard during the game that Memorial Stadium briefly qualified as a small inland sea. Yet somehow, the Jayhawks not only survived, they triumphed. After 26 years of near-misses, heartbreaks, and meteorological indifference, the streak is over. The plains, my friends, have been reclaimed.

A GAME FOR THE AGES (AND THE WEATHER CHANNEL)

The game was a rollercoaster, if that rollercoaster were underwater and occasionally on fire.

  • First Quarter: Mello Dotson intercepted an Oklahoma pass and ran it back for a touchdown, which immediately caused half the stadium to question if they were dreaming.
  • Second Quarter: The Sooners fought back, but Kansas refused to wilt, mostly because you can’t wilt when you’re already soaked.
  • Third Quarter: Jason Bean sprinted 38 yards for a touchdown, hydroplaning heroically through puddles large enough to host ducks.
  • Fourth Quarter: With less than a minute left, Devin Neal, Lawrence’s own hometown legend-blasted through the Oklahoma defense for the go-ahead score. The crowd lost its collective mind. Some even rode the goalposts, as is local custom when the universe forgets its usual rules.
Kansas football players celebrating in the endzone during a heavy rainstorm.
Memorial Stadium during the game, which briefly qualified as a small inland sea.
A KU fan riding the goalpost as the crowd storms the field after the game.
Fans liberate the goalposts, as is local custom.

Final score: Kansas 38, Oklahoma 33.

Also final rainfall: unclear, but geologists are studying it.

THE HEROES AMONG US

Portrait of Jason Bean.
Jason Bean, who appeared to be trying to outrun the storm itself.
Portrait of Devin Neal.
Hometown legend Devin Neal, bringing greatness from down the street.

Jason Bean played like a man personally offended by the concept of losing. He threw for 218 yards, ran for another 62, and occasionally looked like he was trying to outrun the storm itself. His grit, leadership, and ability to operate in amphibious conditions will be remembered forever.

Devin Neal, born and raised right here in Lawrence, rushed for 112 yards and a touchdown, proving that greatness doesn’t always come from faraway recruiting pipelines, sometimes it comes from down the street and just needs a pair of cleats and a community that believes.

THE LANCE LEIPOLD EFFECT

Pop art portrait of Coach Lance Leipold.
Coach Lance Leipold, the man behind the “mathematically impossible levels of joy.”

Let’s take a moment to appreciate Coach Lance Leipold, the man who has somehow turned Kansas football from “cautiously optimistic” to “mathematically impossible levels of joy.” Under his leadership, the Jayhawks are winning games in a way I haven’t seen in years… and by that I mean they’re expecting to win them. (This is new. We’re still adjusting.)

Whatever magic Leipold has brought to Lawrence, it’s working. The players believe. The fans believe. Even the local weather patterns seem to believe.

WHY THIS WIN MATTERS

This wasn’t just a victory; it was a reintroduction.

Action shot of Jason Bean running the ball.
Bean’s grit was on full display.
Action shot of Jason Bean preparing to pass in the rain.
Operating in amphibious conditions.
  • First win over Oklahoma since 1997, when flannel shirts and dial-up internet ruled the Earth.
  • First home win over a Top 10 team since 1984.
  • Bowl eligibility for the second straight year, which officially qualifies as a streak in Kansas football terms.

It’s a lot of fun believing that Kansas football can stand tall (and dry out later).

A COMMUNITY REIGNITED

As the rain poured and the crowd roared, something remarkable happened: belief returned. Not just in the team, but in the idea that Lawrence, our town, our campus, our drenched, muddy hearts, can once again be the center of college football joy.

When the final whistle blew, fans stormed the field, goalposts were liberated, and every Jayhawk in the state of Kansas suddenly remembered how to spell “bowl eligibility.”

So yes, Rock Chalk Jayhawk.

The reign, and the rain, have returned to the plains.

And if you listen closely, you can still hear it echoing across Lawrence: the sound of 26 years of frustration finally washing away.

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