The state of football in Texas: One reporter discovers what makes football in Katy, Texas, so special

The directive from my superiors was clear. When heading down to Katy, Texas for the "Clash of the Champions II", I was to find out just what it was that made Texas football, and more specifically Katy football, so special. Fortunately for me, it wasn't hard to find out.

The directive from my superiors was clear. When heading down to Katy, Texas for the “Clash of the Champions II”, I was to find out just what it was that made Texas football, and more specifically Katy football, so special.

Fortunately for me, it wasn’t hard to find out.

What is Katy football?

Katy football is going to Snappy’s on Old Highway 90 at 6:30 in the morning on game day and ordering the country deuces (three eggs, two pancakes and bacon and sausage links), talking shop with all the other Tiger fans who flock to Bobby and Effie Katsabas and Alex Tsounakas’ breakfast establishment.

Bobby, Effie and Alex are Katy football. They’ve owned Snappy’s since 2002 and welcome in the players after practice for some pancakes and bacon.

“They have a good appetite,” Effie says with a smile.

Katy football is Kevin George and his 8-year-old son Dylan, going through receiving routes and hand-offs in their front yard on Saturday morning. Dylan, wearing his helmet, is getting ready for his Katy Youth Football game; Kevin is doing his best to prepare Dylan for the contest, and maybe even a future with the Katy Tigers.

“I’d love to see him in that uniform, out on that field,” Kevin says, pausing to congratulate Dylan on his good form with the last hand-off.

Katy football is about shutting the town down when the Tigers play on the road. Local restaurants know there’s no point to stay open late when Katy is out of town.

“Last one out, turn off the lights,” says Carl Walker, a Katy alum and avid supporter.

Katy football is about the pre-game meal for fans at Los Cucos, where the Tex-Mex is sizzling and so is the banter. Katy football is the fans telling you that the secret to the Tiger’s success is that the team, much like the town, works together as one.

“It’s about the team here,” says J. Gillson, an ’87 Katy football alum who attends every game. “This town is basically based on three F’s – faith, family and football.”

“It’s a sacred religion here,” Walker adds.

Katy football is about wearing red from the moment you’re born, and its about not being able to wait until you’re lucky enough to pull on that uniform.

“Every little kid wants to be a Katy Tiger,” says Pat Atwood, whose son Colt would return a punt 60 yards for a score that night against Bellevue. “These kids walk into a place with that jersey on, they’re gods.”

Katy football is about paying the price to be those gods.

“The secret is in the old-school mentality,” says Jeremy McGrail, a Katy grad who runs the Web site 5ATexasFootball.com. “You come here January through March and you’ll see them out there working, doing mat drills, lifting weights.”

Katy football is about leaving to line up at Rhodes Stadium two-and-a-half hours before kickoff; it’s about the signs that read “Home of Champions” and the home-made train that circles the field during the game.

“It never ceases to amaze me, the intensity of the culture of football here and how rabid Texas football fans are,” says Katy Independent School District Athletic Director Rusty Dowling. “It’s the identity of the town.”

Katy football is about family. To the players, it’s about dedication, and an adherence to tradition.

“Katy football is my life,” says senior safety Sam Holl, who will play at Baylor University next season. “This is my family. This is what we do.”

Katy football is about pride and success. One begets the other in this town. The water tower that hovers over the town proper is far from the only place proclaiming that you’ve entered the home of the Tigers, the 1959, 1997, 2000, 2003, 2007 and 2008 Texas state champions. It’s plastered everywhere – the school, the local restaurants, signs throughout town, and on the shirts of many of the townspeople.

“Winning state,” Atwood added. “That’s really all that matters.”