SMU

 It was late October and the year of our Lord was 1881 in Tombstone, Arizona Territory. The sun was just beginning to tilt down through the haze of another typical burning day in the desert when Mike stepped out into the middle of the dirt patch between the saloons and general store that served as a street for the once-a-month stagecoach. When his hair was brown, his gun had been talked about across the country. But as he laconically moseyed to the edge of the OK Ranch that marked the border of town, he could feel self doubt more than creeping in. He wiped his face with a look that bordered on befuddled as upon glancing sideways at what he expected to be his two sidekicks was not the scene they had played out so many timed before. Tony, his most valued aggressive shooter, was backing up so fast that he may not even be able to fire from that far away. His "special" teammate on his other side had paused to count the bullets in his six shooter and kept getting stuck on five. So, here he was on the edge of the ranches corral, facing yet another team of out of town killers and it looked like it might finally be the end. There was only one move left, and for that answer, my friends, we must read on...

Almost at the moment that the unthinkable happened, we knew that end was coming for someone. For the first time in my brief 43 year Seminole memory, Osceola's spear hit the logo and then toppled sideways landing unceremoniously on the turf with the flame petering out as it pointed right at the head coach. Literally within seconds of this visual, we got word that the power in Doak was out. Then, we had two hours of weird as we waited for some heavenly sign that the Unconquered remained that way. Every Nole in the building should be proud of your behavior over the next four hours. With no PA, clock, video assistance, down and distance and god bless - piped in music - it was joyous to be at the game. The crowd absolutely knew that only it and the Chiefs were the home field advantage, and they brought it. Even as the players wearing the same colors continued to stumble, bumble and act indelibly confused at every play call, the fans pulled them back by sheer will. Honestly, I loved the entire first half game experience. It was like attending a 1923 Yale / Harvard game. Pure football. Then, sometime near the half, the PA cracked to life and the fairytale was over. 

We waxed at length last week about the failure of our defensive staff to have even the remotest clue as to how to coach a zone defense. Well, Tony doubled down on his idiocy this week. Routinely asking his charges to line up 8-15 yards back on third down, the ensuing conversions were not difficult to diagnose. Do not talk about communication issues when you are taking quality football players and not giving them a realistic chance to succeed. If Mickey Andrews was in the facility, we would have known it. Because he would have charged the field and spit fire down his throat. When we played man, we literally dominated on every down. I don't think SMU converted a contested catch all game (with the exception of the uncalled offensive pass interference). But, Goodnight Moon, we were only in man a faction of the time. Kids, the maddening reality is that we have stars in the defensive backfield, and he is literally not allowing them to play competitive football. Jones and Rawls if given the chance are lockdown corners. Caleb Lavallee is a revelation at backer and along with Chris Jones are better than what we have had for a decade. Yet, we could not slow down the Strawberry Shortcake short bus squad on third down. 

Here is where our stadium positioning makes it tough. After almost every failed defensive drive and that was every one but one last night (we will get to that one forced punt in a moment), Coach White would amble over to the team sitting comfortably on their benches, mumble about 15 seconds of instruction, then walk away so he could actively watch the part of the game he was not coaching. This laissez faire mess, in concert with the tulip skipping presser last week leads me to assume this man does not care one whit what happens in Tallahassee this season. 

Again, this offseason, we addressed a clear internal weakness and hired a standalone special teams coach. If this man's only job was to make nails, they would all be bent and come without a head. For the 4th time in two games, we did not have the right number of players on the field. That Mensa inspired move during the only forced punt of the game cost us a timeout and a realistic chance to tie the contest late. Again, we have what looks like a talented kickoff and punt return unit and a kicker who might be amazeballs, but our coaching staff can't get through the National Anthem so the game never kicks off. 

We have genuine stars all over the field on offense. Ousmane is an absolute stud and Sam showed again this week what happens when you get him in space - even with a throw that was a yard behind him. We have three potential pro receivers, and yet it all does not matter kids when your coach can not evaluate or recruit a dude to get them the ball. This was like taking a pretexting flip phone to the 2026 Apple showcase and expecting the crowd to be wowed. Ashton's processing speed is similarly hampered. He simply does not see anything relevant in front of him, and it is really hard in row 33 to watch. Daniels had dudes Moses Red Sea open all night and he could not pull the trigger in time or accurately. This is a fifth year senior, so that book is written, published and brutally panned by Oprah. 

Which brings us to the Hail Mary for our aforementioned hero at the OK Corral. He has one hope left. If, after the expected tragedy in Tuscaloosa, he elects to start Malachi Marshall against the buttercream cupcake that is his alma mater and that kid happens to be a legit star...Then we find a way to win 6 of 9 coming home with a QB that is returning, Mike will find himself not needing a wardrobe change. 

Your scribe and many friends will be in Bryant Denny for the fun in a few weeks. I am sure that the Bammers will be super gracious as they return the 2025 favor. But, heck, with all these biblical references this week, didn't that David cat do OK against Goliath? Let's play the game!