History Gives Battle Of Brothers Its Weight

On November 25, 1892, the Utah Agricultural College defeated the University of Utah, 12-0. For both schools, it was the first intercollegiate football game in program history.

Founded 42 years earlier, it was also Utah's first year as the University of Utah, having been renamed from the University of Deseret earlier that year. The Utah Agricultural College was, at the time, just four years old – and would not become Utah State University for another 75 years. Utah would not gain statehood until 1896.

Eight years passed before the schools played again, but when they did, Utah – in true older brother fashion – came back to Logan and defeated Utah State, 21-0. It was the first of three consecutive shutout wins for Utah, and though Utah State won another in 1903, it was a mere blip before eight more Utah wins decided by a combined score of 170-12. The Aggies had momentum during the 1960s and 70s and went 12-8 against their rivals from the South, including a 9-3 run from 1965-1976, but Utah has largely controlled the series, with a 79-29-4 record.

Recently, the brothers have grown apart; the Battle of the Brothers has become a Cold War of sorts. The teams played an uninterrupted stretch of annual games that began under FDR's final years in the presidency and lasted until Barack Obama's first year in office. That changed after 2009 – the teams have met only three times since, once in Logan (2012) and twice in Salt Lake City (2013 and 2015).

To understand the relationship and the history between these two brothers does not take much imagination. It’s about what you would expect from two brothers. One set of brothers, Cain and Abel, of biblical fame, provides a poignant example. In what could be considered the world's first battle between brothers, the story goes that Cain, the older of the two, killed Abel in a fit of jealous rage. 

Such is the relationship between these brothers. In 1907, Utah took a move directly from Cain’s playbook and put in motion a plan to kill its younger brother. 

Here’s the story, as told by Utah State:

“Fearing that the growth of the UAC will hinder the University of Utah's progress, legislators in Salt Lake City attempt to consolidate the two schools, and upon failing, instead pass a bill limiting UAC's curriculum to agriculture, domestic science, and mechanic arts. Many once-thriving programs in the arts, humanities, education, and others are closed, despite the college's initial mandate that it offer such instruction.”

Not even 30 years into Utah State's existence, Utah did its best to smother the younger university. The attempt failed, and by 1927, all those restrictions were lifted, save for those on law and medicine programs. The irony, of course, is that Cain was jealous of Abel’s agricultural prowess.

That was the first of many unsuccessful attempts – Utah has worked to collapse conferences and alter laws to spite Utah State. The failed attempt to absorb Utah State (and the subsequent restrictions) also highlights another harsh reality hidden in the university's genetic code. By its very design, Utah State is an underdog. It has always existed, explicitly or implicitly, to serve as a complement, not a competitor to, the University of Utah. Like a weed, this practice has extended from the classroom to the football field. 

That fact, rather than de-escalating the tensions, has fueled them. Utah State is not a feeder school or a satellite campus. It’s a rival that happens to be 38 years younger. There is nothing manufactured or synthetic about the animosity between these two. It’s genuine. It’s not the brainchild of a soulless television network. It’s pure; ancient; brotherly. On paper, it’s a game that shouldn’t even matter. It doesn’t count for the teams’ conference records (and hasn’t since 1961 when Utah helped to kill the Skyline Conference) and, because of Utah State’s status as an underdog, doesn’t garner much national attention. 

For much of the recent history anyway, all the game should have been was a way to collect a paycheck from a power team for Utah State and a tune-up game for Utah. But that has never, ever been the case. This game has always been more. Often with nothing at stake other than regional pride, these two teams have met in battle over 110 times. When they do meet, it's competitive – not just from the score, but in the sense that it truly is a game between two brothers.

One desperately tries to punch his brother in the mouth, to prove he belongs. The other tries to maintain superiority, to put the younger brother in his place, as it were. It’s competitive for the sake of being competitive. When they go to battle, the brothers aren’t competing for a conference title or a trophy. When these brothers fight, they're doing it for nothing more than the privilege of beating each other. 

After the longest hiatus in series history, the Battle of the Brothers is back, bringing with it over 130 years of tradition, animosity and respect. The brothers have largely gone their separate ways now, pulled apart by an ever-changing college sports landscape and incentive structure. Given the substantial gap between the programs, it is difficult to quantify how much this game means to these schools.

But, there's no question of how important this game is to a state younger than the rivalry itself. Playing in a world remarkably different from the one in which they last met, Utah and Utah State will once again put on full display everything that college football is supposed to be – and in so doing, will help to remind us of what this sport has to offer.

The Battle of the Brothers isn't an antiquated relic surviving from college football of yesteryear. It's a resilient symbol of the sport in its purest form.