A ranch is located 45 minutes north of Darrell K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium, a quiet, grass-fed counter to the 100,000 roaring fans who show up to watch their beloved Texas Longhorns play.

"When you take the job as head coach at the University of Texas, you realize two things real quick," says Mack Brown, who held that job from 1998 to 2013. "1. You will be required to make a lot of appearances, everything from high school coaches conferences to birthday parties of the school's biggest supporters. And 2. Even if you think you're the headliner, if you show up and Bevo is also there, you are merely the opening act. He's the star."

Make that a child star. Bevo XV took over the job in 2016, the centennial celebration of a live longhorn's first game appearance, at the 1916 Texas A&M contest, replacing the previous mascot, a pit bull terrier named Pig. Historically, only steers of some age were considered for the job. But after the heartbreaking death of Bevo XIV, who succumbed to leukemia during the 2015 season, a Texas-wide search led back to the same ranch where beloved XIV had lived. After sifting through hundreds of entries, Sunrise Spur, who'd electrified the longhorn show circuit, was chosen. When he walked into DKR last fall, he was only 19 months old, years younger than any previous UT live mascot.

"He's just a magnificent animal," new Texas head coach Tom Herman says of his sideline companion. "More importantly, he's steady as a rock. There's chaos going on around him, and he's just like, 'Hey, wassup?' I wish I could stay that calm in the middle of all that."

That's no accident. Part of his audition process was to bring the noise to the ranch, from fireworks to band instruments. Even with the booming and blaring, Spur just stood there. And why not be calm? The steer is pampered at the ranch, watched over by John Baker, former president of the Texas Longhorn Breeders Association of America, and his wife, Betty. They also looked after Bevos XIII and XIV, all living alongside a barn turned bed and breakfast. He keeps such a chill profile that overnight guests often have no idea that their stablemate spends his days rolling to 40 to 50 appearances, looked after by a group known as the Silver Spurs, whose sole job is make sure Bevo has the best of everything. He even has a scholarship named in his honor, having already awarded nearly $700,000 to local students.

When Bevo made his debut in 2016, he weighed in around 1,100 pounds. That's good for only the second-heaviest live mascot. The biggest load is located somewhere near Boulder, Colorado. Her name -- yes, her -- is Ralphie, and she weighs in at 1,200 pounds. Unlike Bevo, her horns aren't long. And much unlike Bevo, there's nothing docile about her, particularly during pregame ceremonies. That's when she dashes across Folsom Field at speeds up to 25 mph surrounded by a quartet of handlers.

The story goes that in the logistics meeting held the night before the 1990 Orange Bowl, a game between Colorado and Notre Dame with heavy national title implications, everyone in the room was perfectly clear on every detail of the night but one. As the meeting wrapped up, Fighting Irish head coach Lou Holtz stood and shouted, "Wait! How the hell does this work with the buffalo?!" The room laughed. Then everyone realized he was serious.

"Hell no, I wasn't joking," he recalls now. "All I could envision was that gorgeous animal getting loose and running over [Notre Dame quarterback] Tony Rice before we'd even played a down. But when I saw how well it was run, I was amazed. I'm still amazed by it."

Before every dash, Ralphie's handlers describe the just-turned-11-year-old as being like a big puppy dog, wagging her tail and even sticking her tongue out of her black and gold trailer to give them a playful slurp. If she isn't acting hyped before her big moment, they take notice.

"We never make her do anything she doesn't want to," explains John Graves, CU's live mascot program manager. "We all know her very well. She lets us know when she's ready or not ready."

Graves has known her nearly since birth. He was a student handler in 2008, when predecessor Ralphie IV hung up her running hooves. When he started, Graves was taken to the pasture where IV grazed, and he was tasked with cleaning, feeding and shoveling whatever she left behind. Today, dozens of students apply for the half-dozen spots that open each season. A larger group helps with her rehearsals and transportation to the stadium. But no matter one's duties, everyone spends time at the pasture to bond with the Buff.

Just don't bother asking where that pasture is.

This is Ralphie's 50th anniversary season, and for all but the first three, the location of her home has been guarded with secrecy befitting the nearby military installations. You can blame that on, well, the military. In 1970, Ralphie I was abducted by a group of Air Force Academy cadets. Ever since, no unauthorized soul has been allowed to visit. (Not even sportswriters and their photographers.)

By the way, Ralphie's gigs aren't limited to football. The day after CU's close home loss to Arizona earlier this season, Ralphie dashed across the field to support the Buffalo soccer team. Hey, you can see it for yourself via her official Twitter feed, @CUBuffsRalphie.

Air Force • Aurora and Ace