Until he hears Betty coming, that is. Betty Baker parks the ATV she uses to get around her ranch, hops off with a nimbleness that belies her years, and walks through a tangle of thorns and brush toward the patch of grass where her prize steer sits. His orange ears swivel, his head lifts, and his dark doey eyes blink as she nears.

By the time you read this, this steer will be crowned Bevo XV, but for now his official name is still Sunrise Spur. To Betty, he will always be “punkin.” “My sweet baby!” she coos, proffering his favorite treat, a cube of hay. “It’s so good to see you.”

The Longhorn Who Will Be King rises to his feet, envelops the treat with his enormous pink tongue, and tilts his head so Betty can scratch between his ears. “Oh, I know,” she says. “You have a good life out here.”

He does indeed. His Majesty, as Betty’s husband John calls him, has 250 acres on which to roam at the Bakers’ ranch outside Austin. He enjoys a spacious pen, the company of other steers and cows—“Longhorns are sociable creatures,” John says—and all the hay he can eat. On Sept. 4, he will travel in the comfort of a custom-built, air-conditioned trailer to his spot outside the end zone of Darrell K Royal Memorial Stadium, delighting thousands of adoring fans.

There wasn’t supposed to be a new Bevo so soon. Longhorns often live well into their 20s, and everyone was shocked when Bevo XIV died suddenly of bovine leukemia last October at the age of 13. The search for his successor began immediately. “We wanted to take our time with this decision, because this is going to be the world’s most famous longhorn steer,” says Ricky Brennes, BS ’00, Life Member, executive director of the Silver Spurs Alumni Association, the spirit organization that handles Bevo. “We wanted to make sure that we got the very best for Texas.”

Bevo XV at home on Sunrise Ranch.

Brennes and his peers spent seven months searching for the next Bevo. They cast a wide net, visiting cattle shows, talking to breeders all around the state, and duly considering the hundreds of unsolicited emails, letters, tweets, and calls that poured in. “It seems like everybody with a few acres has a longhorn,” says Kevin Millin, ’73, who chaired the selection committee*. The Spurs fielded more than 100 inquiries from as far off as Oregon, Washington, Florida, Louisiana, and Maryland. Many candidates were swiftly eliminated because they were born out of state; the Spurs thought it only right that a native Texan fill the role. Others weren’t the perfect shade of burnt-orange—a rare color in longhorns, according to Betty Baker. “A lot of them are reddish or maroon,” she says, “and we certainly don’t want that.”

The committee was also looking for a young, easy-to-train steer with a calm temperament. It is a lot to ask of an animal to attend more than 40 events per year, including standing in a noisy, chaotic football stadium before as many as 100,000 fans, and the majority of steers simply aren’t up to the task. The history of the mascot bears this out. Over the last century, Bevos have charged fans, photographers, and players; stampeded across the campus; kicked out their trailers; and otherwise asserted their wildness. These failures have been far less frequent in recent decades, now that the selection process is much more thorough than simply plucking a longhorn at random out of a herd, but they still serve as a reminder that steers are huge, powerful, and potentially dangerous creatures.

In November, Brennes brought six candidates to a Longhorn Band practice for an audition of sorts, to see how they would handle the noise and commotion. One stood out. “He was really good-looking,” Brennes remembers. “Great coloring, great disposition. We didn’t know yet what was in his future, but we kept an eye on him.” The steer went on to win the titles of junior champion and grand champion at a longhorn show, beating out much older and bigger competitors. He has exceptional conformation, a term that ranchers use to describe well-built animals that fit the standards of the breed. With his muscular build, well-formed horns, and hide spotted with just the right shade of orange, Bevo XV is a bovine Adonis. By May, the Spurs had made their decision. Another plus: He is owned by the Bakers, who also bred Bevos XIII and XIV, and thus are familiar with the unique challenges and responsibilities that come with a celebrity steer. “We looked everywhere,” Brennes says, “but John just seems to grow ’em on trees.”

The Bakers have spent the summer preparing Bevo XV for primetime. In addition to taking him to shows, they’ve hung flags in his pen (Bevo XIV was afraid of them), played him music on a boombox, and tossed a football near him in an effort to simulate the experiences he’ll have in the stadium. And the head-scratches, belly rubs, and praise that Betty bestows on him daily are more than just the sign of an adoring parent—they’re practice for the contact he will soon have with fans.

The walls of the Bakers’ home are lined with Bevo memorabilia and photos. Statues, signed game balls, plaques, and ribbons are everywhere. The stairway banisters glint with dozens of silver Bevo belt buckles. There’s a framed photo of Betty and John in their finest with Bevo XIII at George W. Bush’s inaugural presidential ball, and Betty and John with Bevo XIV at the 2005 national championship. “Where he goes, we go,” John says.

Bevo XV is one of the youngest steers to ever take the field for Texas. When the season kicks off, he will still have his baby teeth. It’ll be an adjustment for fans who were used to the much larger Bevo XIV, and there will surely be some good-natured teasing. But a young mascot also seems fitting for Charlie Strong’s young team. “I like the idea of people getting to watch him grow up with the team,” says Brennes. “In a way, he belongs to the fans. He belongs to Texas.”