Big Shot | ✓

22 | hero ball, pt ii

One loss was bad in college football. Two was a death sentence.

College football differed greatly from the NFL in that regard - your record was not the sole determining factor on if you did or did not make the playoffs. Instead, a committee of 13 people who operated under the assumption that they knew more than the average fan (newsflash: they typically don't) made up a list of criteria that determined the ranking of the 25 best college teams each week. Among that criteria, someone somewhere decided long ago that two losses was the line in the sand, and the point of no return for a team. They say each criteria piece is weighed equally when determining rankings, but we all knew better.

Me, Mara, and a few other media people had huddled in the back corner of the press conference room at the stadium after the game, waiting for Coach Riley and Reid and anyone else who had an obligation to speak. In a loss, most claimed they didn't.

When Reid walked in, it felt like all the air had been sucked into a vacuum, and the squeaking of the chair as he sat down, still in his pads and uniform, sounded almost deafening. When he reached up to pull at the collar of his jersey, I clocked the cherry red abrasions across his knuckles.

The floor was then opened for reporters to ask questions, but nobody wanted to hear from Coach Riley. They all wanted to hear how the star quarterback fucked up the game.

"Reid, can you kind of put into words the feeling of losing a game like that in that fashion?" the first reporter asked.

I wanted to roll my eyes into the back of my skull. Losing would never not suck, and I wasn't sure why anyone thought they'd ever get a different answer. But poking the bear was fun for some people, I guess.

"It sucks," Reid replied flatly, and admittedly calmer than I thought he would.

"On that last play of the final drive, clock was ticking down, you had receivers in the end zone, but it looked like you didn't really want to go there," the reporter continued.

Reid shifted in his chair, mulling over his words, and there was that vacuum silence again.

"Well, I didn't have great pocket movement, and couldn't really step into the throw, and..." he blew out a sigh as he pushed a few stray locks of sweaty hair off of his forehead. "I was just playing hero ball tonight. I tried to do it all myself and the whole team paid for it. That's not how we win games. So this loss, it's...it's on me. It was selfish and it won't happen again."

Reid stood up from the chair before anyone else could fire off any follow up questions, and stalked out the swinging back doors of the press conference room.

I took half a step before deciding not to follow him. I knew if I was in his position, I'd want time to decompress and cool off by myself, and he was more of a lone wolf than I'd ever be. Wandering into the den and getting bit wasn't going to help either of us.

━━━━━━

Updated rankings weren't released until the following Monday. Georgia, who had started the season ranked as the unanimous #1, had not changed, but Clemson at #3 had dropped to #5 - meaning if the playoffs were selected today, they would not make it.

The dismay was palpable. The team was one game into the season and they've already got one foot in the grave. The silence in the football complex was fittingly akin to a funeral.

The team was technically off, but a loss didn't mean content stopped, and I had to finish up my "Countdown to Gametime" video to post later today. The sky had begun to turn into a creamy, melted orange by the time I was done, and my stomach grumbled and begged for food. but my body stopped on its own in the lobby before I could make it to the doors.