Planning the Surprise
NORMAN, Okla. — Eighty-four thousand fans filled Gaylord Family Oklahoma Memorial Stadium for the OU homecoming game, most of them completely unaware that one of Oklahoma's own soldiers was hidden inside, preparing to surprise his family in a moment they would never forget. First Sgt. Brian Curtis of the Oklahoma Army National Guard's 1220th Engineer Company had his family in the stands, but they had no idea he was there. As far as his wife Lori, his daughters, his son, his granddaughter, and his brother knew, they were at the game to accept an honor on Brian's behalf while he remained stationed in Afghanistan.
The surprise had begun taking shape a few months earlier, while Curtis was stationed in Sharana, Afghanistan. His command approached him about the opportunity to return home early and surprise his family at the OU homecoming game, which had also been designated as a military appreciation game with more than 200 Oklahoma National Guardsmen on the field holding an American flag the size of a basketball court during the National Anthem. Curtis was initially reluctant. "Deep down though, I wanted to do this," he later admitted, but his first instinct was to push for one of his soldiers to receive the honor instead. His commander's response was firm: Curtis had consistently put his soldiers first throughout the deployment, and he had earned this recognition precisely because of that quality.
The logistics of keeping the secret were demanding. Curtis had to sneak his packing out of the transient tent at Bagram Airbase without alerting his fellow soldiers to the fact that he was departing ahead of schedule. He watched the kickoff of the OU game on television from inside the stadium, hidden from any chance of discovery while the first quarter played out. "I felt bad that I couldn't tell them," he said of his unit back in Afghanistan, feeling the particular guilt of a first sergeant who is separated from his soldiers even temporarily. Coordinated through the staff of Patriot Ford, the event sponsor, every detail had been carefully arranged to ensure the family was present and the reveal was perfectly timed.
Curtis laced up his combat boots inside the stadium as the first quarter wound down, preparing himself emotionally for what was about to happen. He worried about his wife Lori — "I hope she doesn't faint," he thought — and about his granddaughter, who had been very attached to him before he left. "I hope my granddaughter remembers me because before I left she was pretty clingy," he said, giving voice to the particular anxiety of a grandparent who has been separated from a small child for months and wonders if that bond of recognition has survived the distance and time.
The Reunion Moment
As the first quarter came to a close, Curtis was escorted from his hiding place to the tunnel of Gaylord Family Memorial Stadium and helped onto the Sooner Schooner, the iconic covered wagon pulled by ponies named Boomer and Sooner that is one of the most recognizable symbols of University of Oklahoma football. His family had been brought to the 50-yard line, where they stood facing the south end zone screen, fully expecting to receive an honorary presentation on behalf of their absent soldier. They had no reason to suspect that Brian Curtis was anywhere within thousands of miles of Norman, Oklahoma.
The Sooner Schooner emerged from the north tunnel while the family faced the opposite direction. Curtis scanned the crowd for the family members he had not seen for months, his eyes moving from the faces of his daughters and son to his wife and granddaughter to his brother Clayton. It was Clayton who recognized him first. "I saw my brother first; he came running at full sprint. I don't think he's moved that fast in years," Curtis said, laughing at the memory of his brother's sudden and complete abandonment of composure. Curtis jumped off the wagon and ran toward his family, and as he did, 84,000 fans let out a cheer that rose above the stadium and lingered in the Oklahoma air.
"I hardly remember anything other than trying not to fall," Curtis said of his run toward his family, capturing the disorienting intensity of a moment in which months of longing and anticipation suddenly collapsed into the present. His wife Lori, collecting herself in the aftermath of shock, reflected on how close to the truth her daughters' intuition had been: "My girls had a feeling that something like this was possible." The reunion on the 50-yard line of one of the country's most storied college football stadiums gave the entire crowd a shared moment of human connection that went far beyond the ordinary experience of attending a football game.
Kelly Collyar of Sooner Sports Properties had done the behind-the-scenes work that made the surprise complete: researching who would have welcomed Curtis home, tracking down his wife, children, granddaughter, and brother, and ensuring that every person who mattered was present in the stadium without knowing the real reason they had been invited. Her diligence ensured that the moment belonged not just to Curtis and Lori but to the full family that had waited and worried together through the months of his deployment.
Community and Guard Support
The Curtis homecoming was embedded within a broader context of National Guard celebration and commitment. Ten more Oklahoma Army National Guard members reenlisted on the field during the same game, with the ceremony conducted by Maj. Gen. Myles Deering. The juxtaposition of a homecoming and a reenlistment ceremony on the same afternoon captured the ongoing nature of the Guard's commitment — as one soldier returns from a deployment, others renew their pledge to serve, ensuring the continuity of Oklahoma's military capability.
After OU's 48-10 victory, Head Coach Bob Stoops sought out Curtis personally and presented him with the game ball, a gesture that carried weight precisely because of its directness — not a presentation through official channels or in a formal ceremony, but a coach going out of his way to find a soldier and put a piece of the day's victory in his hands. "Oklahoma is still very supportive," Curtis said afterward. "There are still those people out there who are patriotic, and really support what we're doing." His words acknowledged the endurance of community support through more than a decade of ongoing war, a feat that is not automatic and should not be taken for granted.
Within a week, Curtis was to leave Norman and rejoin his unit at Fort Bliss, Texas, for demobilization processing before the 1220th's final return to Oklahoma. The brief window between his surprise homecoming and his departure back to Fort Bliss was a reminder that the military's demands do not pause for the emotional needs of even its most deserving soldiers, and that the reunion on the 50-yard line was not the end of the deployment but rather a remarkable interlude within it. When Curtis finally came home for good, he would carry with him the memory of 84,000 people cheering for him, his brother running full sprint toward him, and his family's faces in the moment they realized he was there.