Steamboat Willie

You can respect the hustle and admit the math is brutal. One league consistently drives eyeballs, ratings, and conference-game demand; another keeps talking about “process” while hoping proximity to relevance pays rent. Markets don’t reward effort, nostalgia, or press conferences — they reward attention. So sure, everyone gets a slice under the current model. But let’s not pretend all slices are earned the same way. Some programs bring the viewers. Others bring a Venmo handle and a dream.

“Markets differentiate” means Ohio State and Texas get paid more because people actually watch them. That’s fine. That’s reality. “Monopolies protect incumbents” means the same people who built the system get Congress to freeze it in place so nobody — not schools, not athletes, not even other brands — can ever challenge it. The SCORE Act is clearly the second one. And let’s not pretend Cody Campbell is some free-market hero. He’s not arguing for markets — he’s arguing for his leverage. If Tech were printing SEC-level ratings, he wouldn’t be lecturing anyone about pooled rights and commissioner egos. He wants redistribution dressed up as disruption. So no, this isn’t about fairness. It’s about power. Campbell wants more of it. The commissioners already have it. And the SCORE Act is Congress being asked to pick a side — and pretending it’s “reform.”

The SCORE Act is being sold as the magic pill to “stabilize” college sports, which is adorable considering it mostly stabilizes the NCAA’s legal defenses and the conference commissioners’ job security. Enter Cody Campbell—Texas Tech’s billionaire booster, head regent, and newly crowned Patron Saint of Saying the Quiet Parts Out Loud—who showed up just in time to point out that the emperors aren’t just naked, they’re also terrible negotiators. Campbell says the conferences could make billions more by pooling media rights, but commissioners won’t do it because they like controlling their own little fiefdoms. The commissioners, naturally, clutched their pearls and insisted they never said pooling would increase revenue, which is hilarious because the only thing more predictable than a commissioner’s denial is a bowl game corporate sponsor. So now we’ve got a full-on soap opera: Campbell yelling that the money’s on the table, the commissioners yelling that Campbell doesn’t understand the “realities,” and Congress trying to pass a bill that gives the NCAA antitrust bubble wrap while telling athletes they’re definitely not employees but should please enjoy these newly standardized NIL guardrails. If you squint, the SCORE Act looks like “reform.” If you read it normally, it’s the conferences trying to lock in their authority before Campbell shows up with a calculator and ruins the illusion. But sure—let’s pretend the real crisis here is protecting commissioners’ feelings while the industry drifts toward semi-pro status with an “amateurism” sticker slapped on top.

I’m not here to canonize private equity. Nobody’s confusing Bain Capital with the Peace Corps. But comparing PE in college football to the USFL is kind of like comparing a restaurant remodel to a meteor strike. Same universe, wildly different stakes. The USFL face-planted because a handful of billionaires tried to cosplay NFL owners overnight. Private equity doesn’t do cosplay. It does spreadsheets, leverage, and “please sign here so we can fire half your department.” Good? Bad? Depends whose ox is getting gored. What PE does reliably is take systems already drifting toward semi-pro reality and say out loud what everyone else is whispering: “You people are running a nine-figure entertainment product with the governance structure of a church bake sale.” That’s why this is happening. Not because PE is noble — but because college football created a vacuum big enough to pull in capital, lawyers, and consultants like a tractor beam. Will they get it right? Maybe. Will they price things “correctly”? Only if you think “correctly” means “in a way that maximizes returns and occasionally detonates traditions.” But here’s one place we definitely agree: Give it time — because nobody breaks things faster than private equity except college football trying to “fix” itself.

The playoff committee didn’t just bend college football — they faceplanted into it and then blamed the turf. They spent years preaching “strength of schedule matters,” then quietly revealed the real rule is “count the losses and stop thinking.” So now Georgia and Bama aren’t “scared,” they’re just doing math… and the math says cancel anything fun, risky, or remotely watchable. Congrats, committee. You’ve turned September into preseason, neutered marquee OOC games, and taught everyone that scheduling courage is for suckers. If this is “smart football,” then college football just outsourced its soul to an Excel spreadsheet

Private equity isn’t the cartoon villain some want it to be — but let’s also not pretend it’s Santa Claus with a balance sheet. PE does one thing extremely well: it professionalizes chaos. If an athletic department is already drifting toward employee compensation, revenue sharing, and semi-pro reality, PE just stops the pretending and prices it correctly. That alone makes people uncomfortable, because it replaces vibes with math. That doesn’t make it automatically good, and it definitely doesn’t make it automatically evil. It means incentives get sharper, accountability gets real, and nostalgia gets evicted. Some fans call that “destroying the sport.” Others call it finally admitting what the sport already is. The real risk isn’t private equity showing up — it’s schools wandering around in this half-legal, half-amateur gray zone with no structure and acting shocked when something snaps. Utah at least seems to be saying the quiet part out loud and trying to build guardrails instead of pretending 2012 still exists. No, this isn’t the USFL. No, it’s not BASEketball. It’s college football admitting it’s a business — and now arguing over who gets the keys, who sets the rules, and who gets paid first.

Nice move for him. That’s a clear step up and good for his résumé. Also… if one staffer leaving “hurts” Texas, then the whole operation was way more duct-taped together than anyone wants to admit — and that’s simply not how Sark runs things. This program isn’t dependent on one guy with a spreadsheet. It’s layered, it’s resourced, and it’s built to reload. If anything, this is just an opportunity to modernize or upgrade the role even more for the portal/NIL era. Wish him well. Replace him. Move on.

This portal cycle is already screaming one thing: availability ≠ fit. There’s a lot of movement, a lot of names, and a lot of folks getting excited because a recruiting profile exists. But Texas shouldn’t be shopping for interesting—we should be shopping for transformative. As Bobby and Gerry like to say: is the juice worth the squeeze? If the answer isn’t “this fixes a real problem immediately,” keep scrolling. A rotational DT who looks like three guys we already have? No squeeze. A WR who replicates what’s already in the room? Minimal juice. An OL who can’t move people off the ball? We’ve seen that movie. The only portal additions that matter right now are: trench players who change the physical tone a RB who actually scares defenses veterans who reduce downside, not add learning curves This is Arch’s window. Not a rebuild. Not a science experiment. Take fewer swings. Make them violent.

Definitely wasn’t fully recovered this year, the question becomes: will he ever return to his pre-injury form?

Hoosier Daddy

Everyone’s acting like the new 105-scholarship rule means Texas can suddenly bankroll a small army. Reality check: you can roster 105 guys, but you can’t pay 105 guys. Revenue sharing = a soft salary cap. NIL = still the hunger games. So what actually happens? Texas funds the top half of the roster, stashes projects in the bottom half, and the portal becomes a revolving door for anyone who realizes they’re in the “thanks for being here” tier. The new rule doesn’t create 20 more paid contributors — it just gives Texas 20 more lottery tickets. And Texas loves lottery tickets. Hook ’em.

Follow-up thought: This is exactly why the portal matters more for OL than any other position. You’re not just buying size — you’re buying reps, scar tissue, and communication under fire. Those things don’t show up in 7-on-7 camps or Rivals stars. High school OL are projects. Portal OL are products. Both matter — but only one saves you next September. And to be fair, Sark finally sounds like he gets that balance. He’s not talking about “potential” right now — he’s talking about solving problems. That’s progress. If we walk out of this portal window with: 2 interior starters who can communicate 1 swing tackle who won’t panic and no more build-a-bear experiments at guard… Then this whole debate disappears by mid-October. Until then — I’ll stay, hopeful, and fully ready to overreact

Portal wish list this year is simple: smart + nasty > just massive. Size without diagnosis is just expensive cardio. When the line finally settled this season, it wasn’t because we suddenly got stronger — it’s because guys actually understood their assignments and could pass off movement without turning the backfield into a demolition derby. OL is five brains acting as one. If the communication is bad, it doesn’t matter how big you are — you’re wrong fast and wrong loud. I’m excited and optimistic about going shopping for 3 portal starters if they can think, talk, and adjust. Zone lives on timing and trust, not weight-room leaderboards. Credit to Sark: he saw the problem, stabilized the season, and — for the first time in a long time — is talking portal priorities like someone who actually watched the same OL tape we did. If 9–3 is the floor now, I’ll take it. We’ve lived through worse. Now go kick the tires on the Colorado LT. Make him tell us no. Then keep dialing. Go get grown men who can play chess at 320.

Not saying anyone’s going anywhere, but it sure would be interesting to watch Bishop return punts next year!

As Texas odds rocket (+4000 → +590) isn’t the committee whispering sweet nothings — it’s degens, hope, and hedge money fighting in the streets. Tonight comes down to one stupid number: #12 = Chaos alive. Pulse detected. Drinks stay cold. #13 = It’s dead. Start drawing up 2026 mock drafts. No narratives. No feelings. If we’re 13, the committee already wrote the eulogy. If we’re 12… light the candle and pray for meteor strikes.

50-50?

#1 Interior OL: Every G/C with a heartbeat should be on the board. C + LG have been a weekly horror show. Do what we did at DL last year: 2 real starters, 1–2 developmental guys, move on. #2 RB: If Baugh hits the portal, that’s the whole meeting. Lacy too. We don’t need another “nice rotational back” after what we just watched—go get a bellcow or stand pat. #3 WR (only if it’s real): Not spending big NIL on “slightly better Mosley” types when OL is on fire. If we pay at WR, make it speed or a true WR1, not another Wingo cousin. Everything else: 1 ILB, 1 vet CB, maybe a blocking TE—cool, after the above is handled. Those are sides. The meal is OL + RB. Portal tampering already started, the rules are decorative, and chaos is the only constant. Buckle up.

CJ, positionally speaking, where do you think Texas will emphasize most in the portal this cycle — and which spots are now clear must-add versus luxury adds?

So Stoops out at Kentucky as well ?

No, no Ga and no Alabama in the regular season.

Nothing about this feels like a light portal cycle. The breadcrumbs say Texas is gearing up for a full correction year. The back-channeling alone suggests this is already moving before the portal even opens. RB still needs a true lead dog. OL needs immediate adults, not projects — at least two guards and a swing tackle. DB and safety are clearly on the shopping list too. Also, a big DL. That’s not patchwork. That’s structural repair. This roster isn’t getting “tuned up” in January. It’s getting remechanized. Now the only question that matters: does the staff finally cash the right checks on the right players?

This cycle is portal or bust. If we’re “punting” on a big HS close, then Sark better roll into the portal like a Jeff Bezos drunk at an art auction. We don’t need projects. We need grown men: RB, two OL, at least one DB, a safety who can tackle, and a LB who scares people. Arch’s window is right now, not after three developmental seasons and a prayer. The difference isn’t money — it’s hitting on the buys. Spend big, evaluate better, and stop pretending last year’s portal nap was some 4D chess move. CJ basically told us it’s about to be an overcorrection — good. Overcorrect hard. Bottom line: If we don’t come out of this portal cycle with multiple instant starters, then we’re officially wasting a once-in-a-generation QB. .

No one’s dunking on Trey, but he ain’t Bijan, and asking him to cosplay as Bijan behind an interior line that blocks like a bunch of athletically challenged 50 yr old men playing Twister is just cruel. Last year Sark had Blue keeping defenses honest and ripping explosives. This year it’s Trey versus the world, and the world is winning by committee. And yeah, imagining Bijan in ’23 or ’24? That’s the kind of pain that makes you stare out the window like you’re in a sad country song. Bottom line: Trey can be part of the answer next year, but he can’t be the whole answer. Somebody in that room has to take a leap, or we need to drag a fully grown man out of the portal, one who doesn’t need perfect blocking to get five yards and can make a DB question his life choices. Arch can’t be the run game and the escape artist and the savior.

Was super impressed with the fluidness of his footwork on a couple of the hudl plays.

Texas either: Buys a real SEC offensive line Buys a grown-man running back who can create yards without a séance Buys multiple DBs, including a starting-caliber safety who actually takes clean angles and plays the ball And attacks the portal like a blue-blood, not a bargain hunter… …or 2026 becomes “Arch Manning: A Documentary About Running for Your Life.” The championship window isn’t creeping open. It’s open right now — wide, bright, and waiting. Either we jump through it… or the SEC slams it shut.