Every October, two states meet in the middle. Texas and Oklahoma pick a spot halfway between Austin and Norman, and they play football in Dallas, right in the middle of the State Fair of Texas. They have been doing it since 1900, and in Dallas since 1929. Ask anyone in that stadium and they will tell you it is the greatest rivalry in college football. I have not found anyone yet who will argue with them, at least not before kickoff.

I spent the weekend there, and I wanted to tell you about it because I saw something I think matters for the work we do in local government.

The first thing you notice is the walk in. You come through the fairgrounds past Big Tex, who is 55 feet of cowboy in a red shirt waving at everybody like he owns the place. Which, in a way, he does. The Texas Star Ferris wheel is turning behind him, the Skyway gondolas are drifting overhead, and the whole midway is packed with people in burnt orange and crimson. Then you come around the corner and there is the Cotton Bowl, with a banner on the front welcoming everyone to the most Texan place on Earth. I will not argue with that either.

Here is what makes this game different from most. It is a neutral site, so the stadium is split right down the middle. One side is all Texas. The other side is all Oklahoma. When I looked across the field, I saw one enormous wall of crimson. When I looked behind me, there was burnt orange as far as I could see. More than ninety thousand people, and every one of them knew exactly which side they were on.

And yet here is what struck me. Nobody in that building was asking anybody else who they were. Not what they did for a living, not where they went to church, not who they voted for, not where they came from. The only question anyone cared about was whether you were wearing the right color.

For about four hours, those distinctions simply were not in the room. Men and women, young and old, every race and background you can think of, people who probably would not agree on a single thing at the dinner table, were on their feet together, groaning together, cheering together, and hugging complete strangers over a first down. They were not united by agreeing on everything. They were united by something they loved and shared.

Now, let me be clear about something. Nobody there was being polite about it. These two fan bases want to beat each other as badly as any two groups of people can. That is exactly the point. You can compete as hard as you want, and still share the same stadium, the same afternoon, and the same love of the game. The rivalry does not tear them apart. It is part of what brings them together.

That set me to thinking about the communities I visit. I have spent my career around city halls and county courthouses, and the pattern I have seen is pretty consistent. The healthiest, most dynamic and most successful communities are the ones that know what they share. They know they all want safe streets, clean water, good schools, a decent place to work and a downtown worth being proud of. They do not pretend they agree on everything, because they never will. But they start with what unites them, and then they get to work.

The ones that struggle are usually the ones that have turned that around. When a community starts to spend its energy on what divides it, the big things do not get done. The water plant does not get fixed. The road does not get built. The good people who might have stepped up to serve decide it is not worth the fight and stay home. I have watched it happen, and it is a shame every time.

I do not believe we have to feel the way we do in the Cotton Bowl all the time. That would be exhausting, and frankly I would lose my voice. But I do think we can learn something from ninety thousand people who, for one afternoon, put what they have in common ahead of everything else. If they can do it over a football game, we can surely do it over the things that really matter to our communities.

Here is my challenge to you. The next time your community is facing a hard decision, start by naming what everyone in the room shares. Start with the thing you all love about the place. You may be surprised how much easier the rest of the conversation becomes.

Hook 'em, Boomer Sooner, and here’s to the local government teams who show up every day and make their communities better. 

To Learn More: State Fair of Texas

About Ron on the Road

Ron Holifield speaks to over 6,000 local government officials annually and has coffee with over 250 local government officials each year as part of his travels. If you have a cool site you think he should visit, email Ron@CivicMarketplace.com. You can also learn more about efforts to help local government become architects of their own destiny at www.CivicMarketplace.com.

NOTE: This column was written with the assistance of Melissa Valentine, senior director of operations and support at Civic Marketplace. 

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