Now that the Texas two-deep has been released (Shane Buechele is the starter “today”, according to Tom Herman), then we can begin to daydream prior to Saturday’s 11 a.m. kickoff against Maryland.
Upon landing on the IMG Academy homepage, a visitor is immediately aware of a constant, intense drumbeat of movement. Young athletes – girls and boys – pushing themselves, running, jumping, lifting and yes, even studying, surrounded by modern amenities craved by 17 and 18-year old dreamers.
The reason for the insanity of what I’m about to write might be the long, hot days of summer without football. Or maybe it’s the delirium of a new coach who continues to shepherd a steady stream of high-end recruits to Austin.
Whatever the case, I’ll go ahead and say it: Texas will beat USC on September 16.
As the father of five I’ve had, well, five moments in my life that surpass all others.
I mean, you know, until this past Wednesday.
When you’re nearing death, and you know you’re nearing death, I assume you will want another chance. The hope for second chances will still be in you as you draw your last breath. Good or bad, rich or poor, I’m convinced this will be so.
Arrogance is born from success; fear, from failure.
Accordingly, please consider the University of Texas in general, and University of Texas football in particular.
It was Sunday morning, fall of 1983, and I stood watching Fred Akers pour himself a cup of coffee.
“Want a cup?” the Texas coach asked.
“No thanks, coach, I’m good.”
Being “of a certain age” means that when I was younger, and my mind wandered and deflected from here to there, I wasn’t “diagnosed” with anything. Someone hollering “Calm your ass down!” was my verbal Ritalin.
The NCAA hasn’t revealed the news just yet, but I will soon be named as the organization’s new Commissioner Of All Things (COAT).
As such, I need to go ahead and lay out a few of my first items of business, once the NCAA makes the news official.
Spring cleaning, while eagerly (yes, eagerly) awaiting the Orange-White game in April…