The Big House on the Prairie.

[Soapy]

Gonna be a Cowboy huh

After what happened in Vegas with Keiyana I didn't expect him to return anywhere near the state. A revenge tour against every Texas school as a OK State Cowboy makes sense

there's a longhorn (cow) in the banner/book cover, it was right there all along

in all seriousness, as I'm writing this, I'm also playing it out on the game so I really don't know where he'll pick

[Caesar]

Oklahoma State? Fake ass Deion Jenkins

[Soapy]

Oklahoma State? Fake ass Deion Jenkins

i forgot his bum ass went there. might need to pivot now

[Soapy]

The Big House on the Prairie
Chapter Six :: Wilderness, Part Five

I spent the rest of that fall talking to coaches, keeping my name on their minds as the transfer portal loomed. By early November, three schools had emerged — Oklahoma State, SMU, and Utah — the only ones where communication was truly reciprocal. I was beginning to gain clarity about the next steps in my football career, even as my personal life remained clouded.

The anniversary of my mother’s death came and went. By then, I was essentially just a roommate to my father and siblings. We passed each other in the mornings — me heading out to work out, them getting ready for work and school — with barely more than a nod. As the date loomed, I felt an urge to organize something. A vigil. A family dinner. Something. Anything to honor her memory, to acknowledge that she was still missed, still part of us. But as strong as that instinct was, the apathy I felt toward my family was stronger. The thought of having that conversation with my father — or worse, with my grandfather — was exhausting all on its own.

I visited her burial site. There were fresh flowers already there, likely from my father, who’d left the house unusually early that morning. I sat in silence by her tombstone for nearly an hour. I reflected on the moments we’d shared — the joy, the sorrow, the ordinary in-betweens. My mind inevitably drifted to Keiyana — our relationship, or what was left of it — and the warnings my mother had once given me about her.

Things with Keiyana were complicated. At first, it was clear that her parents were isolating her. But over time, it seemed like the isolation was more self-imposed. My texts went unanswered. FaceTime calls rang out with no response. And when we did talk — or rarely, saw each other — our conversations were short, surface-level. A pale shadow of the deep, unbreakable bond I thought we’d built, especially after everything that happened in Vegas. Whenever I brought up the future — hers, mine, ours — she avoided the topic entirely.

“Whatever happens is gonna happen,” she’d say whenever I mentioned the schools I was considering. “Do what you think is best for you.”

I didn’t know if this was a test, a side effect of the medication she’d gone back on, or something worse — what I feared the most — that she blamed me for what happened in Vegas. We might have chosen to go there together, but we stayed because of me. She’d wanted to go home for weeks before her clash with Irene. If I had listened, maybe none of it would’ve happened. My return might have felt just as shameful, but at least Keiyana would be without a record — without a stain on her name. She wasn’t just someone struggling with her mental health anymore. Now she had a violent history attached to it. If she blamed me for that, I couldn’t fault her. My fall from grace, no matter how humbling, was nothing compared to hers.

The biggest decision of my life would have to be made alone — without input from my mother, my father, my grandfather, or Keiyana. I hadn’t spoken to my grandfather since returning from Prairie View. When he stopped by the house, I gave him nothing more than a nod. I still carried resentment over how he handled the call from the police station — the conditions he placed on the help he offered. That distance — that emotional detachment — would follow me for years, turning me into a nomad of sorts. A man without a home.

Oklahoma State was recruiting me the hardest, and by extension, probably offered the best chance at immediate playing time. But Stillwater wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time, and the coaching staff left something to be desired. My position coach and main recruiter, Coach Montinar, was a likeable guy — he’d coached at East Carolina, Temple, and had a brief stop at Florida — but he didn’t have a strong track record of sending players to the league. And then there was Head Coach Mike Gundy — a Trumper through and through. I wasn’t political — my father, despite being a public official, took money from both sides if it suited him — but all I knew about Gundy was his infamous “I’m a man” rant and the time he went viral wearing a shirt for a right-wing news network. I had no illusions about what came with playing at a Power 5 program, but that didn’t make me feel any better about playing for someone like him.

Utah was interested, but I never truly felt like a priority. They extended an offer, and their coaching staff — respected as they were — told me I’d have a chance to compete for a role. Which, to me, felt like code for “special teams or redshirt.” Still, the idea of returning to Utah, where I’d found peace before, was tempting. But it also left me conflicted. Going back meant being close to the scene of everything that had unraveled — a place that held both serenity for me and trauma for Keiyana.

And then there was SMU — the final school in serious consideration, and the only one I’d built a long-standing relationship with. It was close to home — just a three-hour drive to Dallas — and it offered a glimmer of hope that I could reconnect with Keiyana. I convinced myself she was just going through another one of her moods, and that being nearby would allow me to support her when things turned around. Stillwater was seven hours away. Salt Lake City? Twenty-one. Going to either of those schools would feel like letting go of her entirely. Like admitting we were over.

But SMU wasn’t a sure thing, either. The staff seemed divided. Some of the coaches didn’t seem enthusiastic about offering me a second chance. My fall visit didn’t feel like the red-carpet treatment I got as a high school senior — it felt procedural, like I was just another name on a list. Head Coach Rhett Lashlee was welcoming. So were a few others. But the vibe from the cornerbacks coach, Rickey Huntler Jr., was cold.

There was no clear path. No easy answer. Whichever school I chose, I knew I’d carry doubts with me. As decision day approached, I began to accept that. There was no “right” choice — only the work ahead, waiting for me wherever I landed.

Next release: 8/8/2025

[djp73]

committing in the next update?

[redsox907]

committing in the next update?

[Caesar]

Buddy’s gonna go to SMU, perform well, find himself talking to a modern oil baron about an NIL deal, start dating said oil baron’s daughter, take her home to meet his philandering father who will proceed to get the daughter pregnant. Baby Book will then have to fly with her on a quick trip to Chicago to yeet the fetus and decide he likes the Midwest where he will transfer to Illinois—but also to hide from Keiyana.

[Soapy]

committing in the next update?

Today is here.

Buddy’s gonna go to SMU, perform well, find himself talking to a modern oil baron about an NIL deal, start dating said oil baron’s daughter, take her home to meet his philandering father who will proceed to get the daughter pregnant. Baby Book will then have to fly with her on a quick trip to Chicago to yeet the fetus and decide he likes the Midwest where he will transfer to Illinois—but also to hide from Keiyana.

what in the tarnation fan fic is this lmao

[Soapy]

The Big House on the Prairie
Chapter Seven :: Nomad, Part One

Two days after I signed my National Letter of Intent with Oklahoma State University, head coach Mike Gundy and the rest of his staff were fired. It was a blunt reminder that football, more than ever, was a business. Thankfully, within a week, UTSA head coach Jeff Traylor was hired to replace him. He told me he would not only honor my scholarship but that he was genuinely excited to have me. He claimed we had met before—back when he was at the University of Texas and my father’s national championship team was invited to a game to be honored. Whether he truly remembered me or was just saying so, I still don’t know. What I did know—and was relieved by—was that I had a roster spot and a coaching staff that valued me.

The day I left Prairie View for good was unremarkable on the surface, yet it’s burned into my memory. I packed light: hoodies, sweats, a few shirts, two pairs of jeans, and my collection of cleats, all crammed into the back of my mom’s old 2009 Chevy Suburban. I stopped by Evan’s room—he was playing some role-playing video game—and we exchanged a quick dap. No hug, no deep talk, just a nod as I walked out. Marianne was more outwardly emotional, but I had no comfort to give. I hugged her, told her to call me if she needed anything, and left.

I didn’t say goodbye to my father or grandfather. Both were working, and though I had told them I’d wait until later in the day to leave, I changed my mind at the last second. Maybe I always knew there wouldn’t be a farewell. I considered stopping by Keiyana’s, even drove past the road to her house, but kept going and merged onto the highway.

The seven-hour drive was peaceful, soundtracked by a rotation of playlists and podcasts. I stopped often, treating myself to Texas staples like Whataburger and Pappadeaux—only to later discover they existed in Oklahoma too. I reached Stillwater at nightfall. The dorm check-in desk was closed, so I spent my first night in a modest roadside motel, a far cry from the Ritz-Carltons and JW Marriotts I’d been spoiled with on official visits two years earlier. This was my reality now—and strangely, I was starting to accept it. Even enjoy it. There was strength in the simplicity.

The truth was, I’d lived a dual existence. In Prairie View, I was pampered—a royal prince with a last name that worked like a platinum black card. But outside those borders, “Baby Book” meant nothing. Worse, I had squandered the perks of being a five-star recruit. Now I was just a nineteen-year-old freshman who hadn’t played in over a year, every move scrutinized. I’d quit once. I'd ran away from the game of football. And behind every polite smile I got in Stillwater, I could hear the unspoken question:

How long until he bails on us too?

That thought burrowed deep, making me withdraw from the world. We were a young team—especially in the secondary. Outside of Eric Fletcher, a third-year sophomore everyone called “Fletch,” the rest of us were freshmen. He tried to pull the group together with dinners and outings. I rarely went, and when I did, I stayed for half an hour at most before slipping out.

Socially, I was isolated. Academically, I was buried in a heavy online course load. But on the field, quietly, I was impressing the staff. The program—judging by their past two disappointing seasons—didn’t have many guys who looked, moved, or played like me. I’d bulked up to 197 pounds and at six-foot-two, quickly found my rhythm, especially against our receivers.

The months blurred together—one long, continuous day. I never went home. My contact with Keiyana was reduced to the occasional comment on a social media post. No parties. No fraternities. Just class, study, workouts, and practice. I became addicted to the routine, a glutton for the punishment I felt I’d earned. Oklahoma State was my penance, and I embraced it fully. I even chose an obscure number—31—despite having my pick as a projected starter.

I had spent months punishing myself, depriving myself of any joy so when the season opener finally came around, I welcomed the opportunity to extend that punishment onto others for a change.

[Soapy]

Former five-star CB Booker Gurley III to enroll at Oklahoma State
The former Texas commit from the class of 2025 has signed his NLI with the Cowboys.
By Michael Edwards - December 18, 2026

STILLWATER, Ok. -- Nearly a year after he was expected to sign with the University of Texas, former five-star recruit CB Booker Gurley III has signed with Oklahoma State and is expected to join the football team this upcoming spring semester.

Gurley, who was one of the top ranked recruits in the 2025 recruiting class, spent a year away from football after not signing with the Longhorns or any team last year. It's unclear what led to that decision amid rumors of NIL negotiations breaking down but incoming Cowboys head coach Jeff Traylor gets a talented player in Booker to help replenish a Cowboys secondary that is losing plenty of talent.

As a recruit, checks a lot of the boxes that programs are looking for in a modern corner with his length at six-foot-two and a frame that could get into the 200-pound range. While it's a hefty player comparison, Gurley has often been compared to Patrick Surtain II although at this point in their development, Surtain was perhaps more technically sound. Gurley has good ball skills and does his best work when he's allowed to be physical with a receiver at the line of scrimmage while also showing good instincts in off-coverage.