The Reheat: Georgia
Woof....
Welcome to The Reheat, a weekly recap of the previous day’s game, just popped out of the microwave. Look for it every Sunday, rain or shine.
Quinn Ewers having time against the Georgia defensive front and bailing straight into pressure will be the lasting image of Texas’ 30-15 loss against the Bulldogs. It was a microcosm for the whole game. The table was set, and the Longhorns (and Ewers) made everything much harder on themselves than it had to be. Texas’ defense came ready to play, but their two early interceptions were negated thanks to the offense and special teams consistently giving the Dawgs great field position, which allowed all but one of Georgia’s scoring drives to take place from 34 yards or less. Then, when it mattered and the game was within reach, the mostly neutered Carson Beck was able to bust out his one schemed-up trick play late in the third quarter since the nature of the game hadn’t forced him to use it earlier. It was supposed to be one of those nights you never forget, but it turned into one of those nights you quickly want and need to forget.
Put this game in the garbage disposal and destroy it.
On the fan side, my worst fears for this game came true early. Texas had a crowd ready to blow off the metaphorical roof at Darrell K Royal Memorial Stadium, but the game didn’t allow for that kind of atmosphere. What was billed as Texas’ biggest game in 20 years and drew parallels to the Longhorns' homecoming against Missouri in 2008 looked more like the game against 2022 TCU—another headliner that’s nothing more than a wet fart. These chances don’t come along often, and when they do, the media, but also Texas as a university, coaching staff, team, fanbase, and yours truly, consistently treat them as if they are a coronation. I listened to multiple national media podcasts last week proclaiming that Texas has “no weaknesses,” and I winced, thinking about the first-quarter Quinn Ewers we saw against Oklahoma.
In the stadium, the drone shows, the celebrities—it’s all cool, I guess, and it’s here to stay. But the stadium is named after a hard man who built a hard program that knocked the snot out of people. That foundation is what turned Texas into a blue blood, a brand, a constant topic of conversation in the college football zeitgeist. There were no coronations back then. Now, it’s hard to separate the Longhorns and Austin given the city's growth, but I sometimes wonder if these games, which are quickly becoming more like festivals with billings like “The Biggest Weekend Ever,” create the mindset that what we're witnessing is pre-determined and doesn't need to be fought for. I can't watch how the defense played last night and think that was the case for the team, but I know it affects the fans' mindset. So, after all that build-up, all that heaping of praise by fans, the college football world, and media, the most exciting part of the night was the heaping of water bottles at officiating incompetence. Maybe College Football really is just wrestling.
I’ve written time and time again: if you’re asking whether or not Texas is back, you haven’t been paying attention. Texas is here. It’s a process, not a primary. Steve Sarkisian has shown commitment to the process, but there’s still a concerning trend of he and Ewers getting the game wrong in certain matchups that aren’t in the non-conference slate—2022 TCU, 2023 OU and Washington, and now last night. If the game plan is wrong, no one will feel sorry for Texas and simply place the crown on top of the Longhorns’ heads. It has to be earned week in and week out because if it isn’t, night-time visor wearers like Kirby Smart will feed their teams a bullshit “nobody believes in us” narrative that will be devoured just like Georgia fans take down a buffet at whatever that state’s version of Furr’s is.
As for Ewers, I’m at a loss on what to do or think. He’s shown in the last two weeks that his injury is still very much a thing, either physically or mentally, and it’s hurting the offense. Texas has an elite stable of wide receivers, yet getting the ball to them downfield isn’t even on the menu right now because of his unwillingness to step into the pocket and throws. Sark pulled him last night for Arch Manning (who was also ineffective) to get Ewers resettled, and briefly, it worked. But then the Texas offense sputtered more, the offensive line faltered and Quinn threw what could have easily been three interceptions in the fourth quarter if not for Georgia drops. The narrative on Quinn within the Texas fanbase is quickly becoming confusing too; he’s a three-year starter with two Golden Hats, a Big 12 Championship, numerous big wins, and a CFP appearance. But he’s clearly regressed in the last two weeks, and Ann Arbor seems like it was a lifetime ago and this is a season where Texas could still accomplish big things. I’m not sure if Quinn isn’t playing like he’s practiced or what the deal is, but as I wrote in the spring, we’re in a sport built on sentimentality yet becoming increasingly unsentimental. Texas still has all its goals in front of them, and they can’t let the letdown from last night beat them more than once—they might have to cut their heartstrings for that to be the case.
Fire The Cannon for: Jahdae Barron. What a performance that was unfortunately wasted.
Bevo’s Bucket for: See above. But the Andrew Mukuba injury coming a week after losing Derek Williams for the season isn’t ideal. We’ll wait to see the severity, but Sark said it “was a knee.” Now, Texas is left with Michael Taafe and Jelani McDonald and very young pups behind them for the stretch run at safety.
This piping Hot Take burned the roof of my mouth: The Longhorns will see Georgia again in Atlanta, and next time, Texas fans will do the barking.