We’re No. 2. Somehow it just doesn’t ring. But it reminds us just how many more serendipitous lessons there are in losses, for both the losers and the winners. Somehow I can’t help but feel proud of the Texas Longhorns and what they almost pulled off in a schizophrenic 13-1 season. By now everyone knows the somewhat inflated score – 37-21.
You probably also know that it was a lot closer than that. But late score padding aside – That’s your big lesson in being a good winner, Coach Nick Saban. Time to learn it. – the national championship game was one of “what-ifs” for two young men – one going out the door, the other coming in.
When Colt McCoy left the game after five plays, never to return, fans knew that Coach Mack Brown’s biggest gamble of the season was one of padding the stats. McCoy was encouraged to hog the playing time in hopes of the elusive Heisman Trophy. The downside was his backup, Garrett Gilbert, didn’t have the reps to prepare him for such a moment. But what the television commentators didn’t tell you is Gilbert was Parade magazine’s player of the year coming out of Lake Travis High School. His stats and expectations are much higher than those of a high-school-vintage McCoy. This is, after all, the son of Gale Gilbert who played in five straight Super Bowls in the Nineties. This is the heir apparent who led Lake Travis to back-to-back state championships and passed for a state-record career 12,537 yards.
Yet, when he got the nod to take the Rose Bowl field, he was afraid. Gilbert still has acne and there’s a gawkiness to his lanky frame, a nervous squint to his eyes. Texas coaches were timid about this moment, this debacle in the making. In the locker room, McCoy – the growing legend says – tried to toss the ball to his father and it was more dead duck than pigskin. Outside, the Crimson Tide crew licked their chops and pounced. Nothing but hand-offs and screen passes from the Longhorns? Easy pickings.
As advertised, the pounding Longhorn defense was tough on the Bama running attack, but with the wilted Texas offense hobbling quickly on and off the field, it was bound to break. Not Heisman winner Mark Ingram, but freshman Trent Richardson bolted 49 yards for a touchdown. Ingram broke a few shorter gains, while Texas teetered on its shy play-calling pedestal. Gilbert’s hands were buttery slabs of dough as his shovel pass to D.J. Monroe ended up instead in a Bama defender’s paws. Touchdown. Score it 24-6 at the half. The horror. The horror.
Would McCoy return for second-half heroics? Not this time. His arm was a soggy noodle, his face grim. Gilbert’s turn. The keys to this football machine were passed on to the kid and its fenders were already sporting dents. Alabama tried to play it safe, but the Texas defense smashed back. And Gilbert woke up. His receivers learned to catch his missilelike passes, the ones that arrived with a sting. Jordan Shipley, the true best player the Longhorns have, cradled the ball for a 44-yard touchdown, then added another 28-yard TD. Gilbert’s rocket arm blasted the ball to Dan Buckner for two points and it was suddenly 24-21. Hope struggled to its feet. This kid could do it. Like Vince Young. Like Colt McCoy. He could.
A shadow monster from the left. Collision. The ball pops loose from Gilbert’s hand and floats. Touchdown Bama. A dream denied. On Facebook a fan wonders if there should be a do-over, this time with Ingram on the sidelines. What then? Can one young man win a game by himself? Yes. But it’s not easy, and sometimes winners must deal with the demons of the past. This game is past. Gilbert’s future is a glint on the horizon. But he’ll remember this moment. It will haunt his dreams just as it does McCoy’s. The difference is Gilbert’s college football dream is still alive and glowing with possibility.
This article appears in January 8 • 2010.