Welcome to Bevo’s Fake Nuts, our weekly-ish column on the Texas Longhorns.
Saturday was incredible, under multiple definitions. One of those is the old definition of that word: “Not credible; hard to believe; unbelievable.” It defied most expectations, and then it defied all logic. Quinn Ewers giving Alabama a run for its money was within the realm of possibility, but Hudson Card? On a banged-up ankle? “Not credible; hard to believe; unbelievable.”
The explanations, in hindsight, seem to be three: First, that Hudson Card is a gamer, which is not a surprise. Second, that Alabama has some offensive issues on the road again, which is reaching the point of being a trend for that program. Third, that Texas has a defense.
Texas’s defense ranked 100th in the country last season in yards allowed per play, 14th from the bottom among Power Five schools, and while I don’t have the second-half numbers, I can only assume they’re worse. Texas’s offense had myriad issues, but Texas’s defense simply collapsed. Over and over and over again. Against Oklahoma. Against Oklahoma State. Against Kansas. Texas’s defense got beat. On Saturday, against Alabama, it kept Texas in the game.
This does track, as defenses are a little easier to build quickly than offenses are. You need a lot of things, but the primary resource is athletes and Texas, as always, has those in abundance. It’s significant, though, because defensive stoutness isn’t exactly something that meshes with the Longhorns’ recent reputation. Texas, of recent years, has been known to be flaky, distracted, lacking in commitment, and lacking in cohesion. Texas’s performance has made believable the grumpy-old-man trope that Austin is too cushy an environment for a good college football team, more a Los Angeles or a Miami than a Tuscaloosa. This doesn’t exactly line up with the character necessary to keep eleven noses on the ball in the fourth quarter in ninety-degree heat under high-noon sun against the mightiest team in all the land.
The problem for Texas now is that the reputation—the flakiness, the distraction, the incoherent uncommitment—has been around longer than this defense. And what do things like flakiness and distraction feed best on? An absence of stakes and an abundance of plaudits.
These ten remaining regular season games are not without stakes for the Longhorns. There’s a conference title to pursue, rivalries to contest, perhaps even a playoff to contend for, if this team is truly a mere point at home worse than Alabama. But the stakes are lower. Once you lose in FBS college football, there’s a leak in the dam. Focus wanes. Less is attainable. Layer this with players being told they’re kings after losing, in a town where a growing number think players are being treated too much as kings, and the pitfall is obvious.
Steve Sarkisian, his staff, and his players have sailed their way to desirable straits. Now, they must avoid succumbing to the siren song. This is where it gets hard.
