Calmer than you are

The calm before the Sugar Bowl

We're only days away from the Longhorns' first College Football Playoff game and one victory away from a national championship game appearance, yet to my surprise I’m holding myself together. I thought I'd be hyperventilating, unable to control my emotions about the Sugar Bowl and the string theory that is all of its outcomes, all of which could spin me into internal chaos as destructive to my wellbeing as what Lincoln Riley did to his Christmas brisket. But, I’m calm. Calmer than you are.

It could be that a lot of my energy, which is usually reserved for swaying between hope and doom, has been focused on getting to New Orleans and what we're going to do once we're there—pregame festivities, dinner reservations, and hotel logistics. I'm sure once I'm standing in the shadow of the Superdome, I'll be a puddle of nerves and worry with a splash of unrealistic expectations to properly bring in the New Year. It could also be the January 1st date has allowed the game to sneak up on me after the holidays.

Maybe my peace of mind is due to the long layoff between the Big 12 championship victory and the showdown in New Orleans, or perhaps my subconscious has just kicked its feet up as I relish where Texas is in comparison to our rivals. There's also my belief in the program that Steve Sarkisian is building; my eggs aren't just in this year's basket (most of my emotional energy was spent on Texas winning the Big 12 anyway). I want Texas to win the whole thing, and I'm sure I will be heartbroken if they don't, and I’ll go on to perpetually play the "what if" game if they fall short. Still, I believe they'll be back. This doesn’t feel like 2009 with Colt McCoy, Jordan Shipley and Mack Brown. It’s not a last gasp. Texas will be back. This is the beginning of something rather than the end.

Taking a more micro view of the Sugar Bowl, I feel like I felt before Alabama in September, and that was a good feeling. I don’t have the nerves and jitters that I did before Red River that made me jumpy when I heard a Toby Keith song on the radio. No, kick superstitions to the curb because I trust this team, they've built up a season's worth of goodwill and are on a roll. They've played their best football of the past 14 years over the past 2-1/2 games. I wrote in August that the team of Texas fans' dreams was here, and since the second half in Ames, that dream has been realized. The Longhorns' fortunes ebbed and flowed so much from 2010-2021 because they were soft, undeveloped, and not very talented up front. Now that's the foundation of Steve Sarkisian's team. When you're elite in the trenches, you rarely have off days, as players like T'Vondre Sweat, Byron Murphy, Christian Jones, and Kelvin Banks raise the floor of your team as tall as a high rise. Add in skill players like Xavier Worthy, Adonai Mitchell, and J'Tavion Sanders, plus home run hitters like Jaydon Blue and Keilan Robinson, and the ceiling of the team reaches the sky.

Still, I don't know what will happen on Monday, and Washington is as elite on the offensive line as they are at wide receiver. It's the toughest matchup Texas could have drawn, and the same goes for Washington. You can credit and discredit both teams for the same reasons. Texas has the victory in Tuscaloosa, while Washington has two victories over Oregon. Texas narrowly beat an awful UH and a struggling TCU, while Washington's last four games were all one-score victories. Pundits point to Texas' shaky pass defense, while experts point out Washington's is almost identical. Washington could have the best player, while Texas' 25th best player might be Washington's fifth best. It's a debate that could go on forever and descend into a myriad of theoretical outcomes before finally arriving back where you started.

On the headsets, Steve Sarkisian and Kalen DeBoer look in the mirror and see the other coach staring back at them. Both are elite game planners, play designers, and hide their tendencies, making them difficult to predict. Public opinion varies wildly: commentators on the coasts believe Texas won't breathe on Michael Penix or be able to lay a finger on Rome Odunze, while the star gazers and NFL draft addicts think the Longhorns win by multiple scores. It's an actual game of chess, and that's why it's beautiful.

As I wrote about last week, there isn't a legendary team among the four in the CFP, but there are four elite programs. I could see Texas fading out of this playoff as easily as I could see them hoisting the trophy in Houston on January 8^th and usually, in moments of uncertainty, I obsess. For proof, look at my Google search history and how I use WebMD when I have an undiagnosed pain or ailment. But right now, instead of obsessing over the matchup and game previews that discuss how the Texas defensive line will slow Washington and Michael Penix's passing attack or how Steve Sarkisian and Quinn Ewers will attack a Husky defense with only a few future NFL players, I keep reflecting on Tom Herman and a narrow victory against Tulsa in 2018.

The Longhorns' shaky seven-point victory over Tulsa followed a second-season opening loss to Maryland, and I was at the low point of my fan experience. On that same night in College Station, first-year coach Jimbo Fisher and the Aggies narrowly lost to eventual National Champion Clemson, and the maroon faithful celebrated the defeat like it was V-E Day. To the north, Oklahoma had Lincoln Riley in his second year who had another generational talent at his disposal in Kyler Murray. It was a dark night for my soul. I wanted to fire Tom Herman immediately, switch Sam Ehlinger to linebacker, and hire a coach like Mark Richt or bring home Mack Brown, someone who would just win seven or eight games consistently. I thought of the fanbases who jump in rivers for bowl appearances, and I wanted that college football fan experience. Maybe I could enjoy an occasional Independence Bowl win or even a Texas Bowl appearance in the good years; I promised the football gods that I would dramatically adjust my expectations. If we could just avoid the dark future that I felt awaited Texas football, I promised to do better, as if I was Scrooge clinging to the cloak of the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. From now on, I'd go to the games, enjoy a beer with friends but leave early so I wouldn't get stuck in traffic, and treat Texas football like I treat the NFL, I'll have the games on, but I'm not locked in. Maybe I'd even skip a few games once the weather got nice. I'd text my Aggie cousins congrats when they won. Of course, my resolutions were empty promises and Texas would turn around its season because Sam Ehlinger is awesome, and they'd beat Georgia in the Sugar Bowl, reinflating my balloon of unrealistic expectations that would grow and pop, grow and pop several times over for the next few years.

And yet, here we are.

I write all of that to illustrate the difference between where Texas was on that night and many nights after compared to where it is now. There were times during the dark ages when I didn’t believe we’d ever make it back to where a burnt orange lit tower on the 40 Acres that glowed with a number one wasn’t a reality reserved for some faraway fantasy. I hated living in that place of constant wish casting, that sort of la la land should be reserved for tortured fanbases who present their overpaid coaches with blank national championship plaques. This is exactly where Longhorn fans wanted to be, in the place we longed to return to. I wrote a few weeks ago that we were living in rare air, so as much as I want to dissect the game or diagnose what each outcome would mean for Texas and myself, I think I'll just take a deep breath in and hold it for as long as I can.

…Texas 40 Washington 37.