CLOSE TO DEADLINE ON UT'S BEST

by Larry Carlson   for https://texaslsn.org

 On the way, naturally, Longhorn football dominated the discussion.  We agreed it was a huge plus to have Quinn Ewers back in the starting blocks, though Maalik Murphy was more than serviceable for two games.  Texas missed Ryan Watts in the defensive backfield for several games and continues to miss hard-hitting Jalen Catalon.  Thanks to Gunnar Helm and the depth of the UT receiving corps, the Horns survived Ja'Tavion Sanders' absence and limitations for awhile, too.  But Kirk and I also agreed that -- in spite of excellent depth at running back -- the one injury Texas really couldn't afford would be the loss of Jonathan Brooks, having an All-America season.

We made the mandatory, quick break at Czech Stop in West but really didn't stuff our faces.  Lunch was just an hour away.

My great-nephew, Jones -- who is great -- was set to meet us at his pick, Tommy's Hamburgers on Forest Park, close by the TCU campus.

Hadn't seen Jones in a few months, and at 19, he still seems to grow every time we visit.  He's a soph now, playing rugby at TCU, and looks as if he could bench-press Portugal.  We wolfed down the cheese fries while we caught up, and Kirk, always the interviewer, quizzed Jones about his classes and choosing Finance as his major, while juggling the duties that go with his fraternity and having a lovely girlfriend, Catherine, from Little Rock.

The cheeseburgers arrived and would've made Jimmy Buffett proud.  I asked Jones why his twin sisters, my great-nieces Ripley and Malone, weren't here to visit ol' Uncle Junior.  He said they were studying.  On Saturday.  It comes with the challenge of Pre-Med courses.  They were gonna make the game but had work to do right now.  I smiled approvingly at Jones' priorities.  Live the college life, baby.

Kirk and I barely got checked in at the hotel before it was time to check a few scores and head over to the stadium. En route, Kirk serenaded me, in harmony with Richard Harris, as they warbled "MacArthur Park," all that stuff about someone leaving the cake out in the rain, sweet green icing flowing down, yada, yada, yada.  My buddy loves those sappy tunes from days of youth and I always razz him and often punch the Sirius XM button for something a bit more uplifting.  He, in turn, has started accusing me of being a "musicist," which, I guess, is better than being tagged anything else that ends with -ist.

At any rate, the traffic at TCU was clogged two hours before kickoff but as we inched our way closer to the parking, we acknowledged the autumnal colors and beauty of the campus plus the opportunity to turn one's head in any direction and spot five or ten potential Miss Forth Worth types, all clad in the de rigueur miniskirts, boots and cowboy hats.

Parked at last, we rode the elevator with a gent who sported some kind of official TCU badge.  Kirk asked him if the Frogs would win.  "It's been the most disappointing year ever," he responded.  "But if we beat Texas, everything is fine."Ol' Kirk waited until the Frog-man exited at another floor, then opined, "That's a loser mentality....that beating Texas is all that matters."

The brief encounter reinforced the basic fact that Texas does, indeed, get every team's best shot. 

So, as Steve Sarkisian has reminded his players this fall, "embrace the hate."

Amon Carter Stadium is a terrific venue for college football, and on a 60-degree fall evening, both schools' bands were performing, the crowd was chirping and Veterans Day salutes and fireworks were setting one heckuva scene.

Texas wasted several opportunities by the middle of the second quarter, and I wondered momentarily if this was going to turn into the nightmarish "TCU upsets Texas" scenario I saw the first three times I watched these old opponents play in Austin, long, long, long ago.  But then the Horns caught fire late and scored a pair of touchdowns in the last two minutes of the half, quieting the crowd and swaggering back to the locker room with a 26-6 lead that looked as if it might grow exponentially in the final 30 minutes of play.

At halftime, I received a text from Jones, thanking me for lunch and informing me that he and his buddies and their dates were headed away to greener pastures, surrendering hopes for any "Fear The Frog" hype to earn traction. I texted him back, "Hey, the Frogs might have the Horns right where they want 'em.  Texas has blown leads of 21 and 17 in the past month." Damn. 

I sure wasn't prophetic at the craps or blackjack tables in Vegas two weeks ago, but I sure was with the text. Turned into, as you know by now, a cluster of mistakes and missed tackles for the Horns, and only a late gamble on third and 12 saved UT's bacon again.  And maybe the discussion Kirk and I had about Jonathan Brooks being the team's one indispensable player, was in the tea leaves, too.  He was injured late in the game on what looked to be a routine run and tackle but was down on the turf for ten long minutes.  Longhorn Nation learned today that Brooks has a torn ACL.  Out for the year, likely out much or all of another season, be it in burnt orange or in an NFL uniform.  

We also learned today that Aggieland is searching for its next mega-zillionaire, as Jimbo exits after not quite six years of promise that turned oh so sour.  That dismissal didn't seem likely when I finally was able to hit the rack for sleep at 3 a.m.The Aggies had blistered poor Mississippi State in their best show of the season.  Kirk was still toiling away at finishing his AP Top 25 ballot to send in.

Bear with me on this...I'll make a point.  I once had the great pleasure to take in a concert by James Brown, not the stellar UT quarterback of 1994-97, but The Godfather of Soul, aka The Hardest Working Man in Show Business.  Still even did the splits.

Well, when my phone alarm went off at the appointed nine a.m. wakeup call for the return drive to Austin, then San Antonio, Kirk was up and at 'em.  Had been for more than an hour, tracking down sources to confirm the then-rumors that Jimbo had left the Kyle Field building.  I've long known it about my bosom buddy, but Kirk is absolutely the hardest working man in sports media.  A machine.  Energizer bunny, something.

We grabbed a ten-minute breakfast downstairs and got on I-35 South, listening to sports updates all the way back. And we talked of many Longhorn topics and the good chance that maybe the clock has run out on the Horns' best chances to earn a spot in the College Football Playoff.   The Horns are repeating what they've done so many times for 13 unnerving seasons:

Playing down to the level of lesser talented teams all year.  The big difference this time --- see Wyoming, Houston, K-State and TCU -- is that the Horns are winning most of the close ones.  We won't mention the vulgarians from the Indian Territory.

But why can other teams make halftime adjustments and roar back to life against UT leads, while the Longhorns appear to sleepwalk in most every second half or final quarter?  To some questions, I have no answers, in spite of my penchant for accuracy in forecasting doom.

Dates with Iowa State and Texas Tech are on deck.  Both teams are clearly outclassed, personnel-wise, against Texas, position by position.  And Sark keeps telling us that what IS exciting about all these close shaves with disaster, is that "We still haven't played our best game."

Alright.  When is it coming, Sark?  Don't wait for what might be a Pop Tarts Bowl appearance.  Whip the Horns in shape to accelerate while the big chips are stacked on the table.

Again, from the Godfather of Soul, in "Papa Don't Take No Mess:"

Look, dig this!

Papa didn't cuss,

Didn't raise a whole lotta fuss.

But when we did wrong,

Papa beat the hell out of us.

Unnnhhh (and the trumpets soar)

I'm not calling for old-school physical abuse.  But maybe some tougher practices and a move to make sure mistakes don't get repeated.  Just some urgency.  We constantly hear about the team bonded by love.  How 'bout tough love?

Don't keep us waiting, Coach.  Stomp on the gas from the get-go and cut the brake lines at halftime.