I Survived: Champ Jackson’s Seven-Week Nightmare

By Champ Jackson, Saturday Night Chronicle

The first hint that something was off came on a Monday night in late September, just as I finished a piece questioning whether Texas State’s Coach Uncle Matt was still the right fit for the program. Little did I know that this opinion would set off a chain of events that would change my life.

It was Week 4, and I was covering Texas State’s late-season hopes after a rough start. I made my usual rounds after publishing, grabbing a late dinner at The Root Cellar Café in San Marcos. I was focused on my phone, scrolling through emails, when a man I’ll call “Bobcat Buddy” approached me. He wore a Texas State cap low over his face, his voice friendly as he casually mentioned he had “exclusive info on Coach Matt” that would turn my article upside down. As a journalist, I’ve learned to question everything, but even I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

The Setup

The man suggested we take a drive to a nearby property where, he promised, Coach Matt’s inner circle had supposedly gathered. It was an unorthodox tip, sure, but the excitement of potentially uncovering something big clouded my judgment. I got into his truck, believing I was on the brink of an insider scoop that would shake up the Texas State season.

The drive stretched longer than expected, the roads turning from paved to gravel, and then to barely-there trails deep into the Texas Hill Country. When I finally questioned where we were going, “Bobcat Buddy” only laughed, muttering something about teaching me to “respect the pride of San Marcos.” My stomach knotted as reality set in—this wasn’t an interview; this was a trap.

The Capture

For the next seven weeks, I lived in captivity on a desolate ranch miles away from anything familiar. “Bobcat Buddy” wasn’t alone; he had an unsettling network of like-minded Texas State superfans, furious at what they saw as my attack on “Uncle Matt.” They kept me isolated, yet always close enough to their fan-fueled rants about the importance of Texas State football and loyalty to Coach Matt.

Days of Darkness

The days blurred together. There was no phone, no internet, no way of contacting the outside world. My captors allowed only the bare essentials—a small room with a cot and a couple of outdated Texas State football posters taped to the wall, as if to further remind me of their cause. My only glimpses of the world beyond came when they’d leave a newspaper on the porch, usually highlighting Texas State’s progress or—ironically—Saturday Night Chronicles’ desperate search for their missing writer.

My mind raced with ways to escape, and I knew I had to stay sharp. Whenever they’d bring me meals, I’d sneak quick glances at the surroundings, mentally mapping every path, every obstacle. In the rare moments I was allowed outside, I noticed the nearest road was miles away, and running without a plan would likely lead to failure. Each passing day felt heavier, and every Texas State game day, they’d pile into the old truck, leaving me alone, and I’d take that time to try to find weaknesses in their hold.

The Turning Point

It was around Week 7 when I noticed one of them, a young fan they called “Red,” seemed less fanatical than the others. While he joined in on the Texas State sermons, I saw hesitation in his eyes. Over the days, I slowly began to talk to him, feeding him the idea that no one, not even Coach Uncle Matt, would be happy with this. My angle? Playing up the shame if their beloved team got linked to a “kidnapping scandal.” I planted seeds of doubt in his mind, and eventually, he loosened up enough to tell me that they were using an abandoned ranch, owned by his cousin, as our hideout.

That was my way out.

The Escape

Red eventually agreed to leave me alone one night, propping open a small window in my room. I waited until the others left for a Texas State post-game celebration, then slipped out through that window. The moonlit fields felt like an endless labyrinth, but I had committed every detail to memory. It was a treacherous journey through brush and thorn, but I kept going, eventually reaching a road after hours of walking in silence.

I waved down the first car I saw—a local rancher who looked at me with disbelief. After a quick explanation, he took me to the nearest sheriff’s office, where the authorities took my statement and contacted the Chronicle team. I was safe, finally, and after seven long weeks, I was free.

Why I’m Back

This experience has only reinforced my dedication to honest, hard-hitting journalism. As painful and terrifying as these past weeks have been, it hasn’t broken my resolve; it’s only made it stronger. Coach Uncle Matt, Texas State, and every other program will continue to be scrutinized if I believe they aren’t giving their fans the best they deserve.

I want to thank everyone at Saturday Night Chronicles, my readers, and those who kept the faith during my absence. I’m here, and I’m back to doing what I love, no matter what it takes.

And believe me, I’ve got a lot to catch up on since I’ve been gone. Stay tuned.