TCU, the unlikely national championship finalist, is done being belittled

GLENDALE, Ariz. – Belittling and its close cousin, sneering, hold down such cherished places in the depraved lore of American college football. They thrive in an entrenched caste system that long since makes people babble in terms such as “blue blood” or “not a blue blood.” Wher ever would we be without them?

Now TCU and Georgia comprise the final two of the 2022-23 season, which means they’ll play on Jan. 9 in Los Angeles, which means Georgia awaits eight more days of getting feted as a dynasty of recruiting and debated as a dynasty of football, while TCU awaits eight more days of getting patted on its horned head about what a nice job it has done and what senseless magic it has woven.

“And let me just say this,” pointed out Sonny Dykes, the head coach at TCU. “We know we’re going to hear (the belittling) again. It’s not going to stop now. You know what I’m saying? We’re going to play again in 10 days, and we’re going to hear the same crap for 10 days that we heard leading up to this ballgame. We’ve got to do what we did this game. We’ve got to answer that criticism and show up and do what we’re supposed to do. If we think that’s going away, I think you guys all know that it’s not. That’s just the way it is.”

Yet if you’re hoping to detox a while on the belittling and the sneering, now meet the TCU lineman, the TCU safety, the TCU running back and the TCU linebacker.

On Saturday night after a 51-45 win over Michigan so mind-altering that all 71,723 witnesses should have used designated drivers to get home, the interview arrangers at TCU brought these four big lads into an interview room in the catacombs of State Farm Stadium. They lined up near one wall, spaced apart. Reporters could wander and mingle among them as they answered questions. They were patient, conversational, unspoiled, not-canned, delightful.

They let on to the sense that’s happening amid all this apparent nonsense.

One had come to this heady point through the University of New Mexico. He’s Dylan Horton, defensive lineman and Texan. One had arrived via Saddleback, a community college in Mission Viejo, California. He’s Emari Demercado, running back and Californian. One had begun the college years as a lacrosse player at Navy. He’s Johnny Hodges, linebacker and Marylander. And one had gotten four of those elusive little recruiting stars, which do matter deeply in the sport. He’s Bud Clark, safety and Louisianian (and funny).

Listen to them, and it can seem that in addition to being a batch of really good and committed football players, the Horned Frogs represent something beyond their distinction as the unlikeliest finalist of the College Football Playoff era. They’ve mastered human collaboration, and it’s evident all through their palpitating 13-1 tour of a season festooned with narrow escapes. Such mastery appears to some degree in all college teams; it’s present in TCU to a degree that might just help explain how the tussles kept tilting their way.

In normal football life, says the listenable Demercado, the running back who gained 150 yards against Michigan, there’s this: “You go out to practice, and somebody’s like, ‘Oh, I don’t want to practice today.’ ” That seems plenty normal, but then he reminds, “And that could rub off on you.”

He said he’s never heard that normal lament from anybody at any time in this TCU season. In fact, this TCU season has started to furnish nostalgia in addition to all else: “This team reminds me of, like, high school football, where everybody’s playing for the love of ball.”

He said, “I think it’s exciting to be around people who come around every day and do what they do with passion.”

Clark told of chasing down Michigan’s Donovan Edwards on the game’s first play, limiting the breakaway to 54 yards and ultimately preventing points: “Honestly, like, Edwards, he’s a track star.” But Clark had something tangible: length. “I’m long,” he said, “so I just reached my arm out and got him.”

Something has happened, just as much a tangible as an intangible, and then it has intensified. “It’s a great feeling,” Horton said, “to be part of a team, an organization, that understands situations they’re in and play extremely hard every single snap.” He called that “a privilege” and said of the Michigan game, “We trusted each other to do our job.”

“That’s what I love about this group,” Dykes was saying down the hall in the main news conference. “No one ever blames anybody else. No one points fingers. The offense doesn’t blame the defense. The defense doesn’t blame the offense. There’s none of that on this football team. We’re all in this together.”

Maybe the structure fed the results, then the results fed the structure.

Think about a team that trailed Kansas 17-10 midway through the third quarter, trailed Oklahoma State 30-16 starting the fourth quarter, trailed Kansas State 28-10 just before halftime, and trailed Baylor 28-20 with three minutes left and 28-26 before the final play, and all that defiance of complaint starts to make those outcomes start taking on some sense.

Then think about the dizzy span from the 6:32 mark of the third quarter to the 13:07 mark of the fourth on Saturday. Those eight minutes might have made a viewer wonder about what he or she might have ingested accidentally. The span had eight touchdowns. It had a 34-yard touchdown pass, a 46-yard pass, a 29-yard pick-six, a quarterback’s consecutive runs of 39 and 20, a 69-yard run, a 44-yard pass, a 76-yard pass and more. The score went from 21-9 to 48-38.

TCU stayed unfazed through that, which Demercado attributed in part to sports-psychology sessions he clearly values. Everybody has those; TCU’s clearly have something. Dykes thinks the 13 transfers mattered, especially for the defense. Dykes had said during the week that the transfer era figures to help usher more unexpected teams to these large stages.

His first TCU team came off four seasons going 23-24, the controversial dismissal of a legend of a coach (Gary Patterson), a 5-7 record in a bowl-less 2022. Then TCU began by beating Colorado, Tarleton and SMU to open matters pretty much unseen. Then it beat Oklahoma 55-24 when that seemed outlandish, luring fresh eyeballs. Then it kept going and rallying, losing only in overtime to Kansas State in the Big 12 championship game. Now it has gone all the way to a final night.

“A lot of times schools like us don’t get a chance,” linebacker Hodges said from amid the harsh world of college football. “And there’s thousands of kids who would die to be in our position.”

Listen to some Frogs, and such dreams can start to sound sensible, while even the treasured art of belittling can start to seem rash.