It began early, in the muggy morning gloom, a barely audible whisper. At the Alumni Center from
the stadium, and fueled by liquor and beer, it edged to a murmur. Slowly, as
game time drew closer and sleepy, disoriented fans filed in, the volume
increased. The fabled Fightin’ Irish, strutting the quiet arrogance of old-line
money, glided onto the verdant playing field. Chants of “Notre Dame sucks”
cascaded down from already-besotted fans. As the teams ran their drills, two
colorful Gothic armies in the still moments before battle, separated by a tense
30 yards of no-man’s-land, the volume rose to a crescendo.
The Longhorns (normally spicy as chicken broth) were pumped. Swarming in the
south end zone, amassing to enter the field, 98 white helmets bobbed like
agitated African bees. As 18-year-old Jim Sanson (an obscure freshman kicker
nicknamed Foulball by a coach for his inability to kick the ball straight, a
youngster who would soon be obscure no more) prepared to kick off, it became a
full-throated, pulsating roar. Three hours later, Sanson’s
39-yard field
goal sailed through the goalposts with no time left, giving ND its second
consecutive gut-wrenching win over Texas, and the bravado was stilled. All that
remained, a stunned murmur.
Last year, on the hallowed ground of Notre Dame Stadium… well, there were so
many excuses. Texas was young, inexperienced, a still-amorphous group, a team
searching for an identity in the most inhospitable environment in college
football. Still, Texas was leading midway though the third quarter,
before being buried beneath a blizzard of turnovers. Ah, well. It was, they
said, “a learning experience.”
But this year would be different. The jungle-like, late-summer air would sap
the
Northerners of their strength. UT’s secondary, proclaimed the finest in the
land, would cover up for a suspect defensive line, blanketing the unsung Irish
receivers, forcing maligned quarterback Ron Powlus into interceptions and
fumbles. All-SWC Quarterback James Brown was healthy and a year older. The
vaunted Texas running attack — so some thought anyway — would slowly, but
inexorably wear down the huge Invaders from the Corn. What was it someone said
about the best-laid plans?
As the victor, Lou Holtz’s bizarre explanation for an ill-considered, botched
fake punt attempt midway through the fourth quarter, “If I’d have known he was
gonna throw it into the end zone, we would’ve punted,” is just another funny
Holtz story. At the time, as the Horns were handed a gift-wrapped package at
midfield, leading 24-17 with only seven minutes left, it looked like the Irish
gaff would give the win to Texas and perpetrate silly talk of a national
championship team in Austin. Instead, a bomb exploded in the hands of the Texas
offense, specifically, in the hands of Brown.
After a sizzling first quarter (7-13 for 93 yards and one TD) the wheels
noticeably — pass by pass — came off for the junior from Beaumont. In the
final three quarters, he’d tally only seven more completions for a measly 86
yards. Yes, it was a bad three quarters, but his worst moment came with
the arrival of this shimmering penny. Just as it appeared Texas would gut the
clearly tiring Irish, Brown imploded. There was only one turnover in this game
and it happened now. Brown, whose rhythm by now had deteriorated into a slow
waltz played at polka tempo, was about to make the worst play of his career.
Running to his right, harassed by enemy linemen, Brown, a three-year starter
(who should’ve known better) shot-putted a “pass” three yards, right into the
hands of a shocked Lyron Cobbins. Cobbins, by the way, plays for Notre Dame.
It was an inexplicable decision, one with no rational explanation. Brown sent
word with this gem, “I guess I forced it.” Indeed. This is called
understatement. Like saying you don’t understand why the Titanic sunk —
it just hit some ice. “When I think about it now,” he added, “I probably
should have called time out.”
But it’s good news/bad news. Because the south division of the Big 12 looks as
weak as the old SWC, Texas should win it. The bad news? A date for humiliation
at the hands of Nebraska. But who knows? A
10-1 Texas team — highly
unlikely in a one-shot deal against Nebraska. Crazy? Totally. Possible?
Yes.
UT is a good team, but it has many problems. They are… Since Brown burst on
the scene against OU in ’94, his game’s gone backwards. He’s not as quick, as
decisive or as accurate. All three of these shortcomings were on display as he
rarely eluded pressure, made horrible decisions, and overthrew open receivers
repeatedly… Texas needs small, quick linemen or big, strong linemen. Someone
needs to decide. Texas is in lineman/linebacker purgatory, neither here nor
there… The matador run defense (the inability to tackle at this level is
embarrassing), a chronic problem, is no longer chronic, it’s acute… Even in
blitz situations, the line applied little pressure on Ron Powlus. He could have
written his memoirs waiting on the UT pass rush… The linebacking is
average… The secondary is overrated. Irish receivers, not a team strength,
were wide open all day.
Until these deficiencies are addressed, let’s tread softly on the national
champion talk.n
This article appears in September 27 • 1996 and September 27 • 1996 (Cover).