Chapter 326: College GameDay

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The first Saturday of November managed to draw much of the country’s attention back toward college football.

It wasn’t just any Saturday.

By that point in the season, the early surprises were already behind them, the true contenders were beginning to separate themselves from the rest, and every loss could sink your season.

November was when everything started to feel final.

And that Saturday offered two matchups that many already considered among the best games of the entire season.

On one side was the great Pac-12 showdown.

South against North.

The UCLA Bruins, the revelation absolutely no one had expected to find ranked sixth in the country at the beginning of November, were traveling to Eugene to face the Oregon Ducks.

Number six against number two.

Oregon remained undefeated, led the Pac-12 North, and had spent years establishing itself among the national elite under its head coach: Chip Kelly.

Their offense was a scoring machine. It had been innovative, and now it was feared by the teams that had to face it.

They had scored 228 points in their last four games.

Across from them stood the surprise team of the season.

UCLA had gone from beginning a new project to becoming a genuine national contender, driven primarily by a true freshman who was putting together a historic season.

Andrew Pritchett-Tucker against Chip Kelly’s machine. That was how television had sold the game throughout the entire week leading up to it.

That alone would have been enough to make the matchup the marquee game of almost any other week.

The problem was that this wasn’t just any week. Because a few hours later, Alabama would play LSU.

Number one against number six and a rematch of the previous season’s national championship game.

In January of that same year, in the national championship game, Nick Saban’s Alabama had destroyed LSU 21-0 to claim the title.

Now the Tigers had the opportunity to get revenge, and this time they would be playing at home.

Tiger Stadium. Known as: Death Valley.

A stadium with a capacity of more than ninety thousand people and an almost mythical reputation within college football. At night, with LSU playing an important game, it was considered one of the most hostile and deafening environments any visiting team could face. If not the most hostile, according to a broad consensus.

Alabama and LSU didn’t just have two of the best records in the SEC.

They were also competing to win the most competitive conference in the country and remained fully involved in the race for the national championship.

On top of that were years of rivalry, players destined for the NFL, and two programs that seemed to constantly find themselves standing in each other’s way.

No matter how spectacular Andrew’s season had been, it was difficult to steal all the spotlight from a matchup of that magnitude.

Especially because Alabama-LSU already had an identity of its own within the calendar.

The matchup was known by many simply as the First Saturday in November.

Others informally called it the Saban Bowl.

Before building the Alabama dynasty, Nick Saban had coached LSU from 2000 to 2004, leading the Tigers themselves to a national championship.

Every new meeting added another layer to the story.

However, having two matchups of such magnitude on the same day only increased the anticipation even further.

ABC had both games and had promoted them throughout the week as Saturday’s two major national events.

UCLA against Oregon would begin at four in the afternoon.

The game would start with some natural light still hanging over Eugene, but the sun would gradually disappear as the quarters passed, leaving the second half under the stadium lights.

Then, at seven-thirty that night, Alabama against LSU would arrive.

A day practically built for sitting in front of the television for hours.

Even so, College GameDay had been forced to choose a single destination, and it had chosen Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

The show’s crew had traveled to Louisiana State University and set up its stage on the Tigers’ campus to begin building toward Alabama-LSU from early in the day.

College GameDay is a program and one of the great rituals of college football Saturdays.

Each week during the regular season, the program chose the biggest or most compelling game of the day and left the traditional studio behind to set up directly on the campus of one of the universities involved.

For three hours, it combined analysis, debates, predictions, stories about players and coaches, and lighter entertainment segments.

But a large part of its identity came from the atmosphere.

Thousands of students and fans began gathering behind the set from the early hours of the morning, carrying signs, costumes, and anything else that might earn them a few seconds in front of the cameras.

It was one of the most popular sports programs on television in the country during the fall, drawing audiences of around two million viewers every Saturday.

For a university, hosting College GameDay was practically a declaration of national importance.

It meant that, at least for that week, the center of college football was there.

The decision had not been an easy one.

UCLA-Oregon had practically everything needed to justify the choice: two highly ranked top-ten teams, an undefeated Oregon, and Andrew Pritchett-Tucker being the most individually followed player in college football.

But Alabama-LSU had too much history behind it. In the end, the tradition and historical weight of the matchup had tipped the scales toward Baton Rouge.

On LSU’s campus, College GameDay had already been on the air for several minutes.

The enormous set was surrounded by a crowd of students dressed in purple and gold. Behind the analysts, hundreds of signs rose into the air, some mocking Alabama, others Nick Saban, seemingly competing with one another for a few seconds in front of the cameras.

At the center of the desk sat Chris Fowler, the show’s main host and the one responsible for maintaining some degree of order among the different personalities around him.

Beside him was Kirk Herbstreit, a former Ohio State quarterback and one of the most recognized analysts in college football, known for his technical and relatively calm approach.

Desmond Howard, the 1991 Heisman winner with Michigan and a former NFL player, brought the perspective of someone who had personally experienced the pressure of competing for the most important individual award in college sports.

And then there was Lee Corso. Analyst, showman, and former college coach, capable of going from serious analysis to provoking twenty thousand fans in a matter of seconds.

The opening conversation inevitably revolved around the rematch of January’s national championship game.

LSU had entered that game after an extraordinary season, and Alabama had destroyed them.

21-0.

The Tigers had not even managed to score.

If Les Miles wanted revenge that night, he would have to find a completely different answer against Nick Saban’s defense.

"Do you think McCarron is ready to handle the hostility of Death Valley?" Chris asked, looking around the desk.

AJ McCarron was Alabama’s starting quarterback.

"He hasn’t thrown a single interception in more than eight games," Desmond replied. "Even if this is his first time starting a game here in this kind of atmosphere, I think he’s ready."

Kirk nodded slightly.

But Desmond wasn’t finished yet. "More than that, I think he’s underrated. I mean, how is almost nobody talking about this kid as a Heisman candidate?"

Kirk folded his hands on the desk before answering in that measured, analytical tone he used when he wasn’t caught up in the emotion of calling a game.

"McCarron has eighteen passing touchdowns, close to seventeen hundred passing yards, and he’s completing around sixty-nine percent of his passes. And, like you said, zero interceptions. He’s the only major quarterback in the country who still hasn’t thrown one."

Lee immediately pointed toward Kirk. "Exactly. Those are good numbers, but look at the monsters he has to get past just to enter the Heisman conversation!"

At that moment, the screen changed.

The analysts’ faces became smaller, and a graphic appeared, taking up much of the broadcast.

HEISMAN WATCH — TOP 5

The five leading favorites for the trophy appeared one beneath the other.

1. Andrew Pritchett-Tucker (QB, True Freshman — UCLA Bruins)

Completions / attempts: 178/239 — 74.48%

Passing yards: 2,569

Rushing yards: 367

Total yards: 2,936

Total touchdowns: 35 (31 passing, 4 rushing)

Interceptions: 2

Team record: 7-1 (#6 in the country)

2. Collin Klein (QB, Senior — Kansas State)

Completions / attempts: 105/152 — 69.1%

Passing yards: 1,460

Rushing yards: 612

Total yards: 2,072

Total touchdowns: 29 (12 passing, 17 rushing)

Interceptions: 2

Team record: 8-0 (#3 in the country)

3. Manti Te’o (Linebacker, Senior — Notre Dame)

Tackles: 83 total tackles.

Interceptions: 5 INTs (national leader among linebackers at that point).

Sacks / Fumbles: 1.5 sacks and 1 fumble recovery.

Team record: 8-0 (#4 in the country)

4. Johnny "Football" Manziel (QB, Redshirt Freshman — Texas A&M)

Completions / attempts: 173/262 — 66%

Passing yards: 2,247

Rushing yards: 793

Total yards: 3,040

Total touchdowns: 29 (16 passing, 13 rushing)

Interceptions: 6

Team record: 6-2

5. Braxton Miller (QB, Sophomore — Ohio State)

Completions / attempts: 112/193 — 58%

Passing yards: 1,527

Rushing yards: 1,003

Total yards: 2,530

Total touchdowns: 24 (12 passing, 12 rushing)

Interceptions: 6

Team record: 9-0

The gap was simply too large for AJ McCarron to easily break into the top five.

Four of the five candidates were quarterbacks, and all of them had more than twenty total touchdowns.

McCarron had eighteen. It wasn’t a bad number. He was having an excellent season.

But when compared to Andrew, Klein, Manziel, or Miller, his individual production was clearly lower.

His strongest argument was interceptions. Or, more precisely, the lack of them.

Kirk explained that, somewhat ironically, playing for Alabama also worked slightly against him in the Heisman race.

The Crimson Tide were considered the best team. Saban’s offense did not depend exclusively on its quarterback.

Quite the opposite.

The offense relied heavily on the running game, and two of its most productive players were precisely its running backs, Eddie Lacy and T.J. Yeldon.

McCarron threw around 20-22 passes per game.

He did his job and made good decisions.

For many, however, that also reinforced the perception that he was more of an extraordinarily efficient game manager than the player responsible for carrying the full offensive burden of the team.

The team did not need its quarterback to show up every game and make highlight plays every week.

The entire machine was simply too good. That was perfect for winning games.

Not necessarily for winning a Heisman.

Besides, he still had not had what analysts called a Heisman moment.

Alabama had crushed almost all of its opponents so easily that McCarron had not even needed to stay on the field for much of the fourth quarter.

He had not been forced to lead a desperate comeback. Nor had he needed to complete a game-winning drive with the game on the line.

But that night, he could get one.

After explaining why McCarron was still outside the main group, the conversation shifted toward each of the Heisman candidates.

Although College GameDay was physically set up on the campus hosting the biggest game of the day, the show served as the major preview for all of college football that Saturday.

During its three hours on the air, it dedicated segments to other matchups, teams, stories, and, of course, the players who were dominating the season.

They couldn’t spend three hours talking only about Alabama and LSU.

The first player to receive attention was Braxton Miller.

The Ohio State quarterback was putting together a spectacular season and had led the Buckeyes to a perfect 9-0 record.

The problem was that Ohio State could not compete for any championship that season.

The NCAA had sanctioned the program for violations that occurred during the Jim Tressel era, primarily involving players who had exchanged awards for money and tattoos, along with the later problems caused by the way the university had handled the case.

As a result, the Buckeyes were banned from postseason play.

There would be no Big Ten championship, no major bowl game.

And even if they finished undefeated, there would be no possibility of playing for the national title.

That inevitably hurt Miller in the Heisman race.

Then it was Johnny Manziel’s turn.

Lee Corso smiled as soon as his image appeared on the screen. "I love Johnny Football," he said.

The nickname had started on a much more local level, among Texas A&M fans.

But during September and October, it had exploded nationally.

Manziel had broken the historic SEC record for total yards, previously held by Archie Manning, by producing 557 against Arkansas.

And only a few weeks later, he had broken his own record.

576 yards against Louisiana Tech.

By early November, Johnny Football was no longer simply a nickname used by Aggies fans.

It had become a phenomenon within sports culture.

It was easy to understand why.

Among the quarterbacks near the top of the Heisman race, Manziel had the most total yards.

He even edged out Andrew by a small margin.

His football was the most chaotic, seeming to unfold permanently on the edge of disaster.

A play could completely break down, Manziel could escape two defenders, retreat ten yards, run toward the other side of the field, and end up turning what should have been a loss into a thirty-yard gain.

He was unpredictable and extremely entertaining to watch.

However, there were also arguments against him.

Texas A&M already had two losses.

Manziel had thrown six interceptions.

A large part of his production came within a spread system designed to create space, and he still lacked a truly massive performance against one of the country’s top teams.

His candidacy needed a Heisman moment.

A victory that would make it impossible for anyone to keep viewing him as nothing more than a statistical marvel.

Even so, he was impossible to ignore.

Johnny Manziel and Andrew Pritchett-Tucker were probably the two most electrifying players in college football.

They were simply electrifying in completely different ways.

Manziel seemed to turn every play into improvisation.

Andrew, on the other hand, projected control.

He could also escape the pocket, extend plays, and run when necessary. His ninety-five-yard run was still probably one of the most impressive highlights of the entire season.

But he rarely seemed to be trying to break the play.

He didn’t run simply because he could.

He didn’t abandon a designed play the moment the first opening appeared.

A large number of his forty- or fifty-yard passes seemed to arrive exactly where the offense intended them to go.

While Manziel gave the impression of creating football on the fly, Andrew seemed to be several moves ahead of the defense.

And that particularly appealed to more traditional voters. A point in Andrew’s favor.

He had all the physical explosiveness anyone could ask for from a modern quarterback, but he still played in a recognizably cerebral way.

Then the third name appeared.

Manti Te’o.

The only defensive player among the five favorites and probably the most emotional story in the entire race.

During September, Te’o had suffered two devastating personal losses within a matter of hours.

First, his maternal grandmother had died.

Shortly afterward, according to what was publicly known at the time, his girlfriend had also died after battling leukemia.

Te’o had decided to play anyway.

He didn’t abandon the team.

That combination of performance, leadership, personal tragedy, and an undefeated Notre Dame had turned his story into one of the most closely followed in the country.

On top of that, he was a defensive player. If he managed to win the Heisman, he would become only the second defensive player in history to win the award. The only one to do it had been Charles Woodson in 1997 as a cornerback.

Even so, it wasn’t just a compelling story. Te’o had accumulated more than eighty tackles in only eight games and, almost unheard of for a middle linebacker, had already intercepted five passes.

A number many defensive backs would love to have, and the previous week he had achieved exactly what candidates like Manziel were still missing.

His Heisman moment.

Notre Dame had traveled to Norman to face Oklahoma, then ranked eighth in the country.

Te’o was the best player on the field and led his team to victory.

When they reached the final two names, Chris shifted slightly in his seat. "And now we get to the part where the real debate begins," he said. "Because there’s quite a bit of division over who should be number one right now: Collin Klein or Andrew Pritchett-Tucker."

The comparison was complicated for one simple reason.

Andrew had, probably, the best overall individual statistical profile of any candidate.

He had accumulated 2,936 total yards, only 104 fewer than Johnny Manziel, but with considerably greater passing production.

On top of that, his thirty-five total touchdowns were the highest mark among all FBS quarterbacks.

Six more than Klein and Manziel.

And eleven more than Miller.

Unlike many quarterbacks who piled up huge touchdown totals through runs near the goal line, most of Andrew’s production came through the air, largely on intermediate and deep passes.

And he was completing more than seventy-four percent of his passes.

In other words, he wasn’t sacrificing efficiency for volume.

He threw more touchdowns than any of his direct rivals while also completing a higher percentage of his passes.

Then there was everything else.

The rating.

The spectacular plays.

The deep passes that seemed to appear several times every game.

His ability to run when necessary and, of course, the enormous attention he generated every time UCLA took the field.

Andrew wasn’t simply one of the best players in the country.

He was also the most famous.

The true freshman millions had followed since high school who, instead of needing an adjustment period, had arrived at UCLA playing even better than expected.

If someone looked only at statistics and individual performance, it was difficult to place another player above him.

But the Heisman was never decided by numbers alone, and that was where Collin Klein came in.

Kansas State remained undefeated. Klein was the unquestioned leader of a team that still controlled its own destiny in the national championship race.

For many more traditional voters, that mattered.

That was why, while one part of the country clearly had Andrew in first place, another still believed Klein held a slight edge because of his team’s perfect record and Kansas State’s position in the national championship race.

Chris looked around the table. "So, what do you think?" he finally asked. "If you had to vote today... is Pritchett-Tucker the favorite, or is it Klein?"

For the first time in several seconds, no one answered immediately.

"I have Pritchett first," Kirk finally said.

The others turned toward him.

"Why?" Chris asked.

"You’ve always been a big fan," Desmond joked.

The others let out a small laugh.

Kirk smiled faintly before returning to a more serious expression. "I know a historic player when I see one. And we’re talking about a true freshman."

He took a brief breath and continued. "I’ve said it before: if we’re going to decide the Heisman purely by team record, then only players from undefeated teams or programs that end up competing for the national championship could ever win it, and that’s not how it works."

The Heisman inevitably had a collective element to it. Team performance and wins mattered.

But above all, it was still an individual award.

What it was meant to measure was how much impact a player had on his team and how extraordinary his performance had been within the context he had been given.

Otherwise, players from programs that did not begin every season already established among the country’s top two or three favorites would face an almost impossible disadvantage to overcome.

A Manziel at Texas A&M.

An Andrew at UCLA.

Players like that would never be able to compete with someone from Alabama, LSU, or USC if the team’s record mattered more than everything else.

"Heisman winners have losses," Kirk continued. "It’s happened plenty of times. One loss doesn’t eliminate a player from the race. I respect Klein’s argument, but if Pritchett maintains this statistical gap through the end of the regular season, it’s going to be very difficult for me to put Klein ahead of him."

"The important thing is that he doesn’t fall off," Kirk concluded. "We already saw what happened with Geno Smith. For a few weeks it looked like nobody could catch him, and then the season completely changed."

"What about you two?" Chris said, looking at Desmond and Lee.

Desmond was the first to answer. "I think I’m with Kirk."

Lee turned his head toward him with a slightly surprised expression. "You?"

Desmond laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve been harder on Pritchett than you guys," he said.

Not exactly critical.

Ever since Andrew had begun dominating the national conversation, Desmond had simply refused to get swept up in the excitement too quickly.

Whenever someone used words like historic, generational, or started comparing him to some of the greatest freshmen of all time, Desmond tended to ask for patience.

Let September end.

Then October.

Let him prove he could maintain that level once every defensive coordinator in the country had enough film to study him.

Andrew had answered those questions one by one.

"I didn’t want to jump on the bandwagon after three games," Desmond explained. "But we’re in November now. We’re not talking about a two-week hot streak. This kid has been doing things for eight games that a true freshman simply shouldn’t be doing. These numbers aren’t normal, and they aren’t inflated by a system."

That was important too.

Andrew was not artificially inflating his completion percentage through an offense built entirely around screens and extremely short passes.

UCLA attacked deep.

"Besides," Desmond continued, "my kids are completely obsessed with him."

Kirk laughed. "There’s the real reason."

"They make me watch his old training videos and they want to copy them, and they’re only six years old," Desmond said, shaking his head with a smile.

Laughter spread around the desk.

Chris then turned toward Lee Corso. "Two votes for Andrew. Coach, you’re up."

"Neutral," Lee replied.

The others reacted immediately.

"Neutral?" Kirk repeated.

"You’re not picking a side?" Desmond said with a faint teasing smile.

"Listen to me!" Lee exclaimed. "I always give a verdict. I’m not chickening out. From the beginning, I said Pritchett was probably the most talented player I’ve seen in the last few years. He’s got the size, the arm, the talent, the mentality, everything you want in a quarterback..."

He looked at his colleagues and continued. "Last week we saw another side of him with all that running up the score. Some guys from my generation didn’t like that very much."

Desmond smiled. "You didn’t either?"

Lee made a face. "Let’s just say it wouldn’t have been the way I handled it," he said.

The laughter returned briefly.

"But I also understand what I saw," he continued. "I saw a competitor. They provoked him, they hit him, the entire stadium was against him, and he responded by destroying the opponent without mercy. Now I want to see him in Eugene. If he plays well there, everything changes for me. And I’m not even saying UCLA has to win."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You’d give him your vote even if they lose?" he asked.

"If Pritchett has a great game and proves he can play at that level against Oregon, yes. Because then we wouldn’t just be talking about huge statistics against good teams. We’d be talking about a true freshman walking into the home of the number two team in the country and proving he can compete with an elite team that revolutionized college football," Lee replied, pounding the desk.

With that, the Heisman discussion was temporarily closed.

The program continued moving forward.

They returned to other important matchups of the day, analyzed some stories from around the country, and, naturally, came back several times to the major showdown that had brought them to Baton Rouge.

But when they entered the final half hour of the program, one of the most anticipated segments of every Saturday arrived.

The predictions.

Before getting to the main game, the four members of the desk, including Chris, quickly went through the most important matchups of the day.

Eight games.

Eight picks.

Each of them had to choose a winner and briefly justify it before moving on to the next one.

There wasn’t much time for long speeches.

Little by little, they worked their way through the list. Until the second-to-last matchup appeared.

The two helmets came up on the screen.

#6 UCLA BRUINS Vs. #2 OREGON DUCKS

The noise from the fans behind the set rose slightly.

The vote ended three to one.

Chris, Desmond, and Lee picked Oregon.

All three could accept that UCLA probably had the best quarterback on the field that afternoon.

But they also hadn’t forgotten who was on the other side. Surviving four quarters at the offensive pace imposed by Chip Kelly was something very few teams had managed to do in recent years.

Kirk was the only one who picked UCLA.

Not because he was actually an Andrew fan, as his colleagues liked to joke.

It was simply that almost everything Kirk valued in a quarterback was present in Pritchett: he was cerebral, extremely accurate, made very good pre-snap reads, showed discipline in the pocket, and resisted the temptation to run the moment something went wrong, even though he had the mobility to do it.

Kirk acknowledged that Oregon had, overall, the more complete team. But he also saw a clear path to the upset.

UCLA had the player capable of punishing Oregon’s aggressiveness, extending possessions, and turning the game into an offensive war where every touchdown had to be answered with another.

Then, finally, came the moment for the main matchup.

Chris and Desmond picked LSU.

Kirk picked Alabama.

Only Lee remained.

The crowd behind the set began roaring before he could even speak.

Thousands of LSU fans raised signs, shouted, and pointed toward the enormous Mike the Tiger head sitting to one side of the desk.

Lee smiled as he looked at the mascot head. Then he looked toward the crowd. "You want me to do this?"

The roar was immediate.

"YES, DO IT LEE!"

"Pick the Tigers!"

Corso slowly stood up.

He walked toward the Tigers’ mascot head. He touched it lightly, but then set it back down.

"NOT SO FAST, MY FRIENDS!"

The boos started before he had even finished the sentence.

Corso turned, grabbed the head of Big Al, Alabama’s mascot, and put it on while pointing toward the camera.

"CRIMSON TIDE!"

The entire campus seemed to answer him with one enormous boo.

Desmond doubled over laughing at the desk.

Chris could barely keep talking while thousands of LSU supporters behind them shouted at Corso.

And so, amid the noise and the usual chaos that accompanied his final predictions, College GameDay came to an end.

...

A short while later that same day in Eugene, Oregon, there were ten minutes left until kickoff.

In just a few minutes, the Bruins and the Ducks would take the field.

Autzen Stadium was completely full. Sixty thousand people filled the stands, and more than ninety percent of them wore some combination of green and yellow.

At first glance, sixty thousand did not seem like a particularly impressive number in college football.

The Rose Bowl could hold considerably more.

Tiger Stadium could accommodate well over ninety thousand.

Other giants around the country could pack more than one hundred thousand people into their stands.

But there was a consensus surrounding Autzen.

Its size was deceiving.

It was one of the loudest, most hostile, and most difficult traps in all of college football.

A stadium capable of sounding as though it held tens of thousands of additional people, and there were reasons for that.

The first was its construction.

Autzen had been dug into the ground, placing the playing field below the surrounding exterior level. Its main stands rose steeply around the field, forming an enormous wall of fans.

The sound did not simply disappear into the sky.

It bounced around and descended back toward the field.

The second was the proximity.

The first rows were extremely close to the sidelines, much closer than in more traditional stadiums, making visiting players feel as though the fans were practically on top of them.

Then there were the numbers. The previous year, during one of its most intense games, Autzen had registered a peak of approximately 127 decibels.

A figure slightly higher, for brief moments, than the noise produced near a commercial airplane during takeoff.

"Ten minutes until kickoff, Kirk!" Brent Musburger exclaimed from one of the booths overlooking the stadium.

His voice came through accompanied by the constant roar of the crowd.

Once again, Brent would be the lead voice for one of Andrew’s games.

Beside him was Kirk. Hours earlier, he had been sitting in front of thousands of LSU fans.

Now he was in Eugene. There was nothing unusual about that within the ESPN and ABC machine.

Kirk had been doing those kinds of Saturdays for years: appearing on College GameDay in the morning, finishing the show, heading straight to the airport, and flying to the city where he was scheduled to call one of the major afternoon or evening games.

"This place is out of control," Kirk said with a slight smile as he looked over the stadium. "I’ve followed Oregon all season, and today feels different."

"No question. This crowd is always loud, but there’s something special about its energy today," Brent said.

"And it makes sense. This is their first matchup of the season against a top-ten team," Kirk said.

Up to that point, they had faced two ranked opponents: teams that had been ranked 23rd and 22nd at the time.

UCLA had faced three ranked teams.

"There’s been a lot of talk about this game being the big test for UCLA," Kirk explained. "And it is. No one disputes that. But it’s also a test for Oregon."

Brent nodded.

The narrative throughout the week had revolved primarily around Andrew and the Bruins.

But Oregon was also entering the most demanding stretch of its schedule.

"For the first time this year," Kirk continued, "the Ducks are going to look across the sideline and see a top-ten team with real aspirations. And after this, the schedule doesn’t get any easier. If they want to get back to playing for the championship that slipped away from them two years ago, these are the kinds of games they have to win."

"This isn’t just Pritchett-Tucker walking into the toughest test of his young career," Brent said.

In a way, Oregon was carrying even more pressure. They had an established head coach, a proven system, and a roster built to win the national championship.

UCLA was in a completely different situation.

If the Bruins lost in Eugene, it would hurt. But no one could call it a failure.

For many, it would simply be the logical result of a young team going on the road against one of the most powerful programs in the country.

Oregon had no such comfort.

If they lost there, in front of their own crowd, against a UCLA team that was supposedly still several years ahead of schedule in its rebuilding process, the questions would begin immediately.

Less than ten minutes remained before they found out which of the two was ready.

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