Unplugged

Texas lost to Oklahoma in Red River, which sucked.

I am putting as much effort into this week’s article as I feel like the Texas coaches put into the gameplan and game management in the heartbreaking, gut punching, dream killing, shit sandwich that was the Red River loss. Therefore you’ll be given an edition with no editing, no rewrites, no attempt at proper grammar or punctuation, no fun links or me reminding myself that my in-laws read this. Here’s a Dance With Who Brung Ya angry, raw and unplugged.

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I woke up Saturday morning at 4:45 AM after a restless night’s sleep that was basically an abbreviated nap and we headed north on I35 for the Cotton Bowl. We had to get there early for our customary cinnamon roll and beer in a wax paper cup in the food court so we were out the door a few minutes after five. But, I was feeling nervous and the early morning drive in the dark allowed doubt to seep in for the first time all week. I’m superstitious, so I tried to push those feelings away by skipping every Toby Keith song that came up on my 90’s Country Pandora station, thinking that me resisting a “Should’ve Been A Cowboy” sing-a-long while I passed through Temple would make the cosmic forces who control the outcomes of football games side with the burnt orange and white. But then I thought of something that I wished I had put in last week’s article where I danced on Brent Venables grave. There’s a weird trend of year two coaches figuring it out in their second Red Rivers. Bob Stoops, Charlie Strong, Tom Herman and Sarkisian all have gotten it right against their rivals in their second crack at the Golden Hat. I had been so confident in the game’s inevitable result, as all Texas fans had been. But I should know better, right? I mean, I’ve seen Case McCoy and Jerrod Heard win this game. As Rhett Atkins and Diamond Rio guided me on my ride I tried to assure myself that it didn’t matter if Texas fans weren’t giving Oklahoma a chance to win, we’re fans. Fanatics. There would be something wrong with me if I gave the Sooners an ounce of credit. They could win 25 Red Rivers in a row and I’d never wish I could sit on their side of the stadium.

More doubt crept forward in my mind as I arrived at the fair and had flashbacks to the 2021 kick in the teeth. Before the Caleb Williams game I remember watching an overweight Texas fan stand atop the tables in the food court and chant “OU SUCKS.” Now, I was witnessing the same guy do the same chant in almost the same spot as two years before one of the most crushing defeats of my sports life. But my friends weren’t doubting and we planned our postgame victory itinerary, so I thought of the Fletcher’s corndog that I allow myself to consume after a win. I fought through the mass of people to get into the stadium and was relieved once I was finally in my seat to take in the pregame festivities. Then, the game started and it was the strangest energy I’ve ever felt at a Texas/Oklahoma game. The Texas crowd and players seemed nervous. “I’ve never seen us win this game while wearing orange,” I realized. Then Quinn threw the early pick and I turned to my wife and revealed to her that I’d had a bad feeling all day, no longer able to hold it in.

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“That sucked.”

When discussing Oklahoma’s fourth quarter goal line stand, Steve Sarkisian summed up the entire Red River Shootout loss to Oklahoma perfectly. The four-play failure at the one-yard line served as an omen for what was to come later and a perfect summary of the frustrating day at the Cotton Bowl. Texas was the less aggressive, less physical, and less prepared team in Dallas. Sarkisian and Pete Kwiatkoswski looked like the worst versions of themselves from 2021 and the pair mismanaged the clock and the end of game situation that allowed Oklahoma to steal the Golden Hat from Austin. It’s a loss that will stick with the players, coaches and fans for a long time as all three underestimated the Sooners will to avenge last year’s embarrassment. After losing 49-0 in 2022, Oklahoma played like a wounded animal that was backed into a corner and had to claw and bite its way out. That ferocious willpower is sometimes all it takes in Red River, talent be damned. Contrasted with the Sooners, the Longhorns played not to lose and Texas didn’t look like the team that beat Alabama in Tuscaloosa with relentless aggression and efficient execution. Said execution (especially in the red zone) is now becoming a concerning trend for a Longhorns team with bigger goals in mind. The Sarkisian who went into his last two Red Rivers seeing red seemed passive this time and his team followed suit.

There’s a thin line between legend and irrelevance in this rivalry, evident in the fact Cameron Dicker is forever immortal while Bert Auburn will probably be forgotten. The legend of this game will one day feature the Sooners’ goal line stop and their game winning drive, but on the Texas side we’ll never forget Sark’s weird clock management and Kwiatkowski’s inexcusable defense when Oklahoma had no way to stop the clock. But, I am going to highlight three plays that I won’t forget which will probably be lost as immortality propels itself forward.

1) Texas goes for their second punt block of the game (after scoring on the first) and Keilan Robinson runs into the punter on a 4^th and four and gets flagged one play after Dillon Gabriel has just been bailed out of an intentional grounding penalty that wasn’t called. Oklahoma’s drive continues after the penalty and they kick a field goal to go up 10-7. The breaks never went Texas’ way all day, but it was ill timed aggression on Sarkisian and Jeff Banks part and the call allowed Oklahoma to salvage a drive that should have ended in a three and out with the game tied.

2) Quinn Ewers’ first interception on the game’s second play. I noticed Oklahoma’s defenders frantically communicating before the snap and sure enough, a momentum altering turnover less than a minute into the game. Texas is more talented, the Sooners were more prepared and that was evident early.

3) On first down of Texas’ failure at the one-yard line, running back Jonathon Brooks missed a gaping hole off the right tackle Christian Jones that would’ve allowed him to walk into the endzone. Brooks otherwise had a great game and I hate that he, Xavier Worthy and Jordan Whittington’s performances were wasted in defeat. Sarkisian probably knew Brooks missed an easy touchdown too, as he stubbornly called the same play again on third down like he was Tom Herman full of meathead Mensa rage and he was trying to will the play call that he wanted to work to succeed. It didn’t.

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As we walked out of the stadium, I told my wife I was never coming again. Don’t worry, it’s part of my process. I felt like I’d just been beaten with a giant sock full of buffalo nickels and I needed to say something drastic.

It’s a cathartic, euphoric sky-high feeling of exuberance when we win Red River and you’re in attendance and you get to revel in victory, but it’s an in the toilet drinking a poop flavored punch like taste when we lose and I hate losing that game more than any other. “Why do I do this to myself,” I asked. “It’s the hope of something special happening,” she replied.

We made a quick exit, grabbing a Lemonade shakeup on the way out and I lamented some more on the drive back to where we were staying, but as the day rolled on and I laughed with old friends from college I allowed myself to back off the ledge. The Aggies losing to Alabama and avoiding a repeat of 2021’s Black Saturday allowed the wounds to heal some too. Later, we went to get ice for a party at a nearby gas station and as we were leaving a car full of Sooners pulled up. Still in my gameday attire, I held the door for my wife and let the crimson clad group walk in after her. With the door ajar, I made eye contact with the last OU fan and he gave me a slight knowing smile that I’ve seen myself give to their fans after one of our victories. I returned his nod and willed myself to tell him congratulations. “Hey, thanks buddy,” he replied politely. Buddy? He might as well have told me he was the real father of my two children and stole my dog and house as he drove a knife through my heart.

Then on Sunday I drove south on I35 and let clarity seep in with a shot of hope. I imagined whipping the Sooners with a belt made of revenge in JerryWorld in two months. Finally, I allowed my mind to wander back to Fair Park and I thought of my friends and our pre and postgame traditions, the taste of a warm beer in a wax paper cup and the thrill of watching the Longhorns run onto the field as they pass by the ugly Crimson side of the stadium and their boos to become surrounded by the sea of burnt orange as “Texas Fight” belts out. I thought of how good it feels when Texas wins that game. I remembered the Sooner fan at the gas station and his stupid grin and I wanted his dumb victorious smile to be on my face. I slapped the steering wheel and said “fuck it.” I was ready to do it all again.