Jackie Sherrill Has Bonfires Burning Bright at Texas A&M;, but Where There’s Smoke . . . : QUESTIONS IN AGGIELAND

First Man: “Did you hear about the Texas A&M; Aggie who could count to 10?” Second Man: “No.” First Man: “How about five?”

Aggies believe in God, country and tradition. They say ‘Howdy’ to strangers, respect authority, protect their own. You ask Aggies to meet your parents, to say grace, to slice the Thanksgiving turkey.

And where does it get them?

For starters, the rest of the Southwest Conference can’t stand the Aggies, especially when they’re coached by that high-priced workaholic, Jackie Sherrill, ranked seventh in the Associated Press preseason poll, picked to return to the Cotton Bowl and quite possibly win the national championship.

Of course, you can count on those city-slicker newspapers and television stations in Dallas and Houston to be up to no good. The same goes for the NCAA and all those questions it’s asking about A&M;’s star quarterback, Kevin Murray.

And then there are Aggie jokes--hundreds of them, all poking fun at this one-of-a-kind place and its peculiar habits.

“I think the higher you get on the pile, the more visible you are and the more people try to pull your feet from under you,” says Bum Bright, a former A&M; board of regents chairman and now owner of the Dallas Cowboys. “Every other school is jealous of what A&M;’s got. There’s two groups: There’s A&M; and then there’s everybody else.”

No argument there.

This is the school where you stand for an entire football game, in memory of A&M;’s legendary 12th Man. Don’t ask.

This is where they construct four-story bonfires for the annual game against the University of Texas, a project that requires about 5,000 logs and 200,000 hours of student labor. About 40,000 A&M; fans attend the ceremony.

At A&M;, there are no skirt-clad cheerleaders waving pom-pons. Here they have yell leaders--five guys with crewcuts who wear starched white uniforms and are elected to their positions by vote of the student body. Yell practice is held at A&M;’s Kyle Field the Friday before a home game . . . at midnight.

If A&M; scores a touchdown, field goal or extra point, tradition dictates that Aggies kiss their dates or spouses. The freshman manual apparently disregards safeties.

About that manual. Every freshman gets one and had better learn it. Included in the handbook is an explanation of A&M; idiosyncrasies. You discover that you don’t dare walk on the grass near the campus union. One visitor did and found himself immediately confronted by a uniformed female ROTC cadet. She was a senior. Only senior cadets can wear the freshly shined, brown knee-high riding boots. “ ‘Preciate it if you could stay on the sidewalk,” she said. “The grass serves as a memorial to fallen Aggies.”

Sorry.

Moose is another way of saying your date was a disaster. A fish is a freshman. Dead elephants are seniors completing their spring semester. Hated University of Texas is called t.u., referred to as “that small secular school in Austin.”

In the student bookstore are bumper stickers. I’m an Aggie’s Mom. I’m an Aggie’s Dad. I’m an Aggie’s Parents . . . Grandfather . . . Grandmother . . . Sister . . . Brother . . . Girl . . . Guy. What’s next? I’m an Aggie’s Dental Hygienist?

And so it goes. This used to be an all-male military school. Then it went co-ed and grew to an enrollment of about 37,000. But this is a place that doesn’t forget its past. The corp may number only about 2,500 members, but it remains the spiritual heart of the school. When cheerleaders from Southern Methodist once wandered onto Kyle Field, a sacred area to A&M; folks, a cadet went after them with his saber. Aggies love their football. Always have. They never boo. If A&M; loses, the students stay after the game and practice their yells.

“I’ve been here for four years,” says Shea Walker, an A&M; wide receiver. “We’d be getting beat bad and the fans in the stands would be yelling and hollering like we were either ahead by 20 points or it was a real tight game. It’s crazy here.”

Tradition comes at a price. Because of their campus peculiarities, A&M; students consider themselves an easy target for abuse. Walker recalls telling a friend that he had chosen to attend A&M.;

“He said, ‘I don’t think you realize you’re going to be an Aggie for the rest of your life.’ ”

Darkness has long since made its way across the A&M; campus. Jackie Sherrill sits in his office, fresh from another meeting with his coaching staff. He has been here since 5:45 a.m. He has overseen two practices, met with reporters, completed his daily jog and attended to various bureaucratic duties.

Now he props a phone against his ear. “Radio talk show in Oklahoma,” he says.

This is an office that deserves Robin Leach of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. On one wall is a LeRoy Neiman print of the late Bear Bryant, Sherrill’s idol of sorts who coached at A&M; before moving to Alabama. ‘To Jackie Sherrill, Who brought Bryant football back to Aggieland,’ reads the inscription. There are photographs of Sherrill with Tony Dorsett, Sherrill with Bob Hope, Sherrill at St. Andrews (the golf course), Sherrill with Lee Trevino, Sherrill at a golf tournament, Sherrill on the sideline with Dan Marino, Sherrill with his family, Sherrill (who owns a pilot’s license) climbing out of an F-4 fighter, Sherrill getting carried off the field. There is photo of Ronald Reagan holding a maroon A&M; jersey. There are three other Bear Bryant mementos.

On his desk are stacks of books and folders. Mayor , by Ed Koch, Pushing Up People , In Search of Excellence , Effective Executive , Iacocca , Peak Performers , Texas Almanac , Texas High School Football and the Encyclopedia Britannica .

In one of the folders is a form that he asks all his players and coaches to complete. They are told to list their short-range and long-term goals, to look ahead and envision what they might accomplish in their lives. Under one heading, that asks what that person might do if he could try anything, Sherrill has written that he’d like to fly an F-16 fighter.

The radio show is going well enough. Sherrill explains the story behind the 12th Man. He talks about his A&M;’s kickoff coverage squad of non-scholarship students. He mentions that he is from Oklahoma. Proposition 48 earns a few comments. During all of this, Sherrill scribbles his signature on A&M; letterhead.

Never a wasted moment.

In his desk is a tape recorder. Whenever he has an idea, Sherrill reaches for a tape recorder. What bothers him is that he hasn’t figured out a way to hook one up while he jogs.

Sherrill is the man that Bum Bright hired in 1982. Aggie alumni, tired of losing, found him at the University of Pittsburgh, where he had a 33-3 record in three seasons. Bo Schembechler of Michigan had been their first choice. “But that was because Schembechler said he wanted to come,” Bright says. “What Schembechler was doing, was negotiating himself a raise.”

Bright said Schembechler’s attorneys in Cincinnati wanted a 10-year contract that would be honored even if their client died during the course of the agreement. “And he wanted my personal guarantee,” Bright says. “I wouldn’t do that and that ended that.”

So Bright asked former Texas coach Darryl Royal, Alabama’s Bryant, former Oklahoma coach Bud Wilkinson and Dallas Cowboy vice president/personnel development Gil Brandt to list the five people they felt could assemble the best football program.

Sherrill finished first on one list, second on two others and fifth on another. That was good enough for Bright, who put together a five-year package that would pay Sherrill at least $287,000 a season. At the end of each year, the contract automatically would be renewed for five years.

And thus began Sherrill’s first me-against-the-world confrontation. The university’s president threatened to resign because he said he was left out of the negotiating process. University professors, angry over Sherrill’s salary, said the school had compromised its academic standards.

Other college coaches argued over the salary. Some applauded Sherrill for his good fortune. “I think A&M; bought instant credibility when they got Jackie Sherrill,” said R.C. Slocum, an A&M; assistant. Others, such as Penn State’s Joe Paterno, said: “What worries me is that a great institution put their priorities so out of whack. They have determined that they’re going to have a football team no matter how it disrupts their academic community, no matter how much it disrupts their image as an academic institution. I can’t buy that . . . and I never will.”

Paterno was the same guy who said he couldn’t bear leaving college football to the Barry Switzers and Jackie Sherrills of the world. Since then, Paterno has apologized to Oklahoma’s Switzer. Sherrill said he has never received the same courtesy.

“When I was at Pitt, I called (Paterno) the first year I was there,” Sherrill says. “I said, ‘We need to get together with each others’ staffs and have a good working relationship. He didn’t want to. He called four years later. I said, ‘Why didn’t you call me then?’ He said, ‘I didn’t need you four years ago. I felt like I could squash you and chase you out of there at that time.’ ”

Sherrill arrived at A&M; and promptly finished 5-6. The next season the Aggies had a 5-5-1 record. In 1984, they were 6-5.

Bright said he was “disappointed” that A&M; hadn’t won. All those cute headlines with $herrill weren’t quite so funny anymore.

Then came last season and the 10-2 record. They humiliated Texas, 42-10. They beat Auburn and Bo Jackson in the Cotton Bowl.

Out came the bumper stickers.

Jackie . . . Expensive, but worth it. I believe in Jackie . . . again .

“There’s no question we’ve done an awful lot of good things,” Sherrill says of his school’s athletic program. “I feel like we’ve got everything on track. We’ve gained the respect of the administration, the faculty and the student body. But we still have a long ways to go.”

Last December, the Dallas Times Herald reported that A&M; football players allegedly received illegal cash payments and benefits. There were reports of “Sugar Daddies” and wide-scale NCAA violations. Quarterback Murray, the newspaper said, once was provided a car by an Aggie booster, all in violation of NCAA rules.

Cotton Bowl week became ugly. Sherrill lashed out at the press. He regulated player interviews. “Our team went through a lot of adversity, but it didn’t affect us,” linebacker Johnny Holland said. “We had confidence in Coach Sherrill. Coach Sherrill told us not to worry about what the media was saying.”

Murray declined to be interviewed for this story. Sherrill said he would arrange an interview, but that certain “ground rules” would be enforced, mainly, no questions concerning the car.

But in a recent preseason television interview with Bryan, Tex., station KBTX, Murray said: “They (the media) tried to destroy our football team. But they couldn’t. That was a setback as far as they were concerned. We got the best of them. For a little while they tampered with us. It was like a dog scratching on your ankle.

“But the end result was that we came out on top and that’s a good feeling I can’t describe to you.”

A&M; vs. everybody else. The Aggies seem to take pleasure in the constant fight.

When he first came to College Station, Sherrill was confronted by an Aggie alum.

“Hello, I’m (so-and-so) and you’re happy to meet me,” said the man.

“You know, you Aggies are like bullfrogs: most of you is belly and what isn’t, is head and most of that is mouth,” Sherrill said.

Now Sherrill says he knows better. He is part Aggie now. Osmosis and all that.

It is nearing 10 p.m. He has enough time to drive home and see his family before he must return for a midnight yell practice with the cadets. No one else is permitted to view the ceremony. Less than six hours later, Sherrill will return to the campus.

“There never has been a person in (my) profession that has been scrutinized as much as I have,” Sherrill says.

And where does it get him?

At A&M.; Thriving in the eye of a storm. Winning the battle against Them.