It's difficult to know where to begin, so we'll start at the beginning. Not the beginning of this game, but the beginning of this blog. I started writing in this space almost exactly twelve years ago. Here's the first paragraph of my first post from September 26, 2012, a recap of a game between Stanford and Notre Dame.
If you're reading this, you know a few things about Stanford Football. First, the Cardinal went to South Bend on Saturday afternoon and came away with a victory that was surprising only in the level of dominance. They beat the Irish soundly on both sides of the ball, and the game really wasn't as close as the score would indicate.
I couldn't have known what was waiting for Stanford football in the years to come. The trip to the Orange Bowl later that season seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the dominant win over Virginia Tech seemed like a fairy tale. I watched that game from a hotel room in Orlando; I had briefly entertained the idea of renting a car and leaving a family vacation for 24 hours to go to the game because I couldn't imagine that I've ever again get the chance to see the Cardinal in a BCS bowl game.
After sitting in the stands for three Rose Bowls in four years, the fantasy threatened to wear off. I was still very aware of how far the program had come, but I never lost sight of the tenuous nature of Stanford's success. We are all just guests at the table, and even though I didn't think the dinner party would ever end, I always knew there was a chance that it might.
I knew that any number of variables could collapse and push the program back down among the masses, and I wondered how I would feel if that happened. Mostly, I wondered about this blog. Would people still be interested in reading about a program that was struggling? Would I still have the motivation to write about them? I wondered.
During Stanford's loss to Washington two weeks ago, I thought for the first time about taking down this site and closing my Twitter account. I wasn't any less invested in the team, but I began to feel the weight of my own optimism in the middle of a fanbase that had given up hope. Anyone who's gotten this far into this "recap" certainly isn't here for the first time, so you know who I am. You know that for the first ten years of this site, I never once picked against the Cardinal in my weekly game previews. You know that even after the most disappointing losses, I always found hope and believed we'd see something positive the next time out. It didn't take long before I saw this as my responsibility. While all those around me saw nothing but despair, I had to hold up the sky.
Never did my perspective diverge from the rest of Nerd Nation as much as it did when the conversation turned to head coach David Shaw. I see the decline in the product on the field, but my problem is that I'm not a journalist. I've never been objective about this team, and certainly not about Coach Shaw. My problem is that I like him.
Even today, with the Cardinal spiraling after losing its seventh consecutive conference game and staring at the possibility of several more losses, I can still say with complete honesty that I hope Shaw is head coach at Stanford for the next twenty years.
If ten people are reading this piece, I imagine that nine of them just left, but I'll explain myself anyway. As I said, I'm not blind to the issues that are plaguing this program. What was once seen as stability on the coaching staff can now be more aptly described as stagnation. We've finally seen some changes this year on both sides of the ball -- the slow mesh on offense, the 4-3 scheme on defense -- but both changes seem cosmetic at best.
Beginning with the offense, it's difficult to know who should take responsibility for what we've seen. The line between Shaw and offensive coordinator Tavita Pritchard is blurred if it's even there, and many have speculated over the years that it's Shaw who actually runs the offense. Regardless, what we've seen thus far isn't much different that what we saw last year.
Once upon a time the Cardinal enjoyed a physical advantage over every team on its schedule. The "intellectual brutality" brand was earned by offensive lines that overpowered everyone in front of them and defenses that enjoyed parties in their opponents' backfields. I'll never forget watching Toby Gerhart and the offensive line bludgeoning the Notre Dame defense, or the night in Pullman when I genuinely feared for the health of two different Washington State quarterbacks.
But last weekend's game in Eugene highlighted not just how much things have changed for Stanford football, but how much things have changed for the college football world.
For the third week in a row, Stanford was facing a team with a brand new transfer quarterback. Oregon, just like USC and Washington, finished last season with questions at the quarterback position, so they went shopping in the transfer portal and filled that need as well as numerous others. (Stanford, it should be noted, cannot shop at that store because it is Stanford.)
Former Auburn quarterback Bo Nix was the prize from that shopping spree, and Oregon's first possession also featured another transfer baby, former Minnesota running back Bucky Irving. The two of them accounted for all but twelve of Oregon's 89 yards on that opening drive, and while the Cardinal defense stiffened at the end to force a field goal, the Ducks' talent advantage was fairly clear.
The Stanford offense, meanwhile, was struggling in the early going. There were waves of bad news throughout the week, first with the announcement that tailback E.J. Smith would miss the rest of the season, then the late news that tackle Myles Hinton would be out as well. On the opening drive, Hinton's replacement, Barrett Miller, also went down, adding to the Cardinal's difficulties. When starting linemen aren't in the game, it isn't just a physical loss, it changes the game plan. Shaw explained after the game, "Your call sheet shrinks to the level of what your least experienced offensive lineman can do."
That first drive was a three and out, and the second was only a bit better, featuring eight plays for 22 yards. We haven't seen as much of the slow mesh as we did against USC, perhaps because it's on tape now and teams can prepare for it, but I also think that it's still a work in progress. Quarterback Tanner McKee seems to be holding the ball a bit too long. As I understand the slow mesh, the idea is that if the quarterback sees linebackers committing to the run, he's to pull the ball back and immediately throw the ball over the top and into the gaps the linebackers have left behind. Instead, McKee is taking the ball back and then surveying the field or waiting for a receiver to break open -- but there isn't time for that. No offensive line can be asked to maintain a pocket for that long -- especially when they've been run blocking, especially not when starters are missing -- and McKee's hesitation has led to a slew of sacks and multiple fumbles.
Aside from that, the offense suffered not just from the lack of identity that so many have pointed out over the past two years, but from what seemed to be the lack of a coherent game plan. Everything looked tentative, but no player looked more tentative than McKee. Some fans have wondered about the wisdom of having an immobile quarterback like McKee running an RPO offense, but that's not really what this offense is; McKee himself is rarely asked to run. The problem on Saturday was that on one series it looked like the idea was to establish the run, on the next series the focus might be the passing game, and on the one after that it would be the slow mesh. The result was a first half marked by one of the most inept offensive performances I can remember from a Stanford football team.
Even so, the defense did its best to hold things together while the offense struggled. They had kept the Ducks out of the end zone on their first drive, then forced a punt on the second drive, and as the first quarter was winding down, it looked like the Cardinal would get to the second quarter only down by those three points. Even though they were clearly being outplayed, it would've been a small victory.
Oregon took over at their own 41 with sixteen seconds left in the quarter, and Noah Whittington rushed for ten yards to the Stanford 49. If he had gained only nine yards, the quarter would've run out and the Cardinal defense could've exhaled a bit, but the 1st down caused the clock to stop for a few seconds as the chains were moved, and that would make a difference. Even then, it didn't seem like the Ducks would even attempt to run another play -- the announcers began wrapping the quarter as they prepared to send us to commercial -- but suddenly the Oregon offense was rushing up to the line of scrimmage to get in one more play.
But it still didn't seem like they'd make it. They snapped the ball milliseconds before the clock hit triple zeros (I watched the replay frame by frame, forward and back), and Nix hit Chase Cota with a short pass that turned into a long gain that turned into a 49-yard touchdown. I can't imagine that it would've made much of a difference in the final score one way or the other, but it must've been a demoralizing end of the first quarter for the Stanford sideline.
Stanford's second possession of the second quarter finally produced some points -- only a field goal to the cut the lead to 10-3 -- but there was hope. Again, it was clear which school had the better team, but the Ducks were struggling to find a groove as penalties were hurting them on both sides of the ball. With seven and a half minutes to play in the first half, there was a feeling that maybe the Cardinal could find a way back in.
It was stunning how quickly those thoughts evaporated. First there was an eight play drive, including a back-breaking 35-yard scramble from Nix on 3rd and 5, to put the Ducks up 17-3 with 4:22 to play. The Cardinal offense came back out, but Ben Yurosek fumbled on the first play of that drive, Oregon's Noah Sewell scooped up the ball and returned it 21 yards to the Stanford 4, and the Ducks were in business. On the next play they were in the end zone. 24-3.
They had score two touchdowns in 25 seconds, but they weren't done yet. The Cardinal had another ill-timed three and out, putting the axe back in the hand of their executioner, and Oregon obliged with a ten-play 68-yard touchdown march that pushed pushed the lead to 31-3 and essentially ended the game.
Just as during the previous week against Washington, things went better for the Cardinal in the second half, as they'd outscore the Ducks 24-14, but it didn't really change what happened in Eugene. Even so, there were positives -- a nice 42-yard scamper down the sideline by Casey Filkins for Stanford's first touchdown was one highlight, and McKee's 28-yard frozen rope to Elijah Higgins on the next drive for the second touchdown was another. (Of course, in between was an 80-yard touchdown run from Bo Nix.)
Probably the only other thing worth talking about -- aside from Josh Karty's 53-yard field goal -- was an otherwise innocuous play just a few minutes into the fourth quarter. The Cardinal faced 4th and 7 at their own 41, and since his team already trailed 45-17, Shaw knew there was no point in punting, so he kept the offense out on the field.
More than anything else that happened that night, this one play exemplifies the on-field struggles of this program. McKee stood behind center with Filkins alongside him and four receivers in the formation, two on each side. At the snap, all four receivers ran identical patterns, nothing more complicated than what we used to call while playing two-hand touch with a Nerf football in the street forty years ago. They ran five or six yards -- short of the line to gain -- and turned around. It didn't matter that McKee's pass to Higgins fell incomplete; had he caught it, the play still wouldn't have earned a 1st down.
Shaw said something significant during his postgame presser, not specifically related to this play, but generally informative. "We've talked all the time about not being a scheme team, but being an execution team." We've been hearing variations on that theme for years now, and here's why that matters. As I mentioned earlier, there was a time when the Stanford offense exploited advantages in size and talent. Scheme doesn't matter when you have David DeCastro or Andrew Luck or Christian McCaffrey or Bryce Love. Those players were so dynamic that the plays didn't matter all that much. I remember an offensive lineman answering a question about blocking for Love, and he said that they all knew that if they made their block they'd get to watch Bryce run fifty yards. In those days, the only thing that mattered was execution.
That idea eventually spread into all aspects of the Stanford offense. The wildcat formation was simply a numbers game -- even if the defense knows what's coming, we're happy to get an extra blocker, as long as the players execute. And then there's the most polarizing play in the Stanford playbook, the end zone fade. Once again, there is no deception or subterfuge; everyone in the stadium knows the play is coming. Success or failure depends only on the placement of the ball and the size of the receiver. It's not that it's a bad play, especially if there's a six- or eight-inch height advantage, but it's another symptom of Stanford's aversion to scheme in favor of execution.
At media day this past summer a reporter asked Tanner McKee about the size and skill of the Stanford receivers. "If you've got one of your receivers with one-on-one coverage, do you see that as open?"
McKee smiled immediately and agreed. When you think about the Stanford passing attack, the receivers are always covered. There are back shoulder fades down the sidelines, high-pointed passes down the seam, inside slants across the middle, and the aforementioned fade routes. Even when the passing game is rolling, Stanford receivers have to fight for everything they get because every pass is contested.
What's frustrating is that each week we see evidence that no one else plays the game this way. Stanford's goal appears to be finding one-on-one coverage and letting one player beat another. Execution. And it's probably correct in thinking that if the Stanford receiver runs his route perfectly, he should beat the defender in front of him; if McKee throws his pass perfectly after the receiver has run his route perfectly, there will be a completion. Execution.
Meanwhile, when the opponents have the ball, we see frequent examples of the benefits of doing things differently. Time and again we watch as opposing receivers and tight ends and running backs run creative routes from deceptive formations that allow them to catch passes with no defender within five yards. That isn't always a failure of the defense; more often it's the success of the offense. Scheme.
It reminds me of a memorable moment from an Alabama game several years ago. If there's any team that could afford to focus solely on execution it would be Alabama, a program that routinely attracts one of the top recruiting classes in America. But instead, Nick Saban emphasizes scheme. In this clip, offensive coordinator Lane Kiffin famously celebrates a touchdown before his quarterback even releases the ball. It wasn't because he knew his receiver was running a perfect route or because he predicted a perfect throw from his quarterback -- it was because he knew he had called the perfect play. He had outschemed the opponent, and he knew that his players -- among the best in the nation at their positions -- would execute the play.
Unfortunately, there have been no moments like that for the Cardinal. There is a lack of creativity, which is disappointing since Stanford University has always been synonymous with innovation. Brutality is no longer working, so it's time to get intellectual. The unveiling of the slow mesh was encouraging because it was a different scheme, but not surprisingly, it was a scheme that demanded precise execution. Because the execution hasn't been precise, the scheme has failed. (And by the way, an offensive system designed around execution rather than scheme will suffer tremendously as injuries mount and second string players have to step forward.)
This is my one quibble with David Shaw, a refusal to try something dramatically different. Even so, I question those would cast him aside with the expectation that the Cardinal would return to prominence once again under new leadership. It might not be that easy.
Like it or not, we have arrived in a new world of college football. Stanford has always been at a disadvantage in recruiting, the lifeblood of any football program, but two huge changes have increased that disadvantage. A few years ago when early signing day was introduced, Stanford recruiting suffered because traditionally none of their targets would have been admitted in the fall, and admission was a University requirement for signing a letter of intent. The University changed its policy and began admitting recruiting targets as early as the summer before their senior year, and the crisis was temporarily averted.
But the latest development -- the transfer portal -- is too much. While I'm generally in favor of any NCAA change that gives more agency to the players, the transfer portal has proven to be crippling for Stanford. There is no other program in the conference and likely no program in the nation with admissions requirements as stiff as those facing Stanford football recruits, and if the admissable pool of high school football players is a drop in the ocean, the group of viable transfer targets is a vapor droplet named Patrick Fields. Meanwhile, USC and Washington and Oregon -- as we've seen -- can cover their recruiting mistakes by enticing accomplished starters from rival programs.
As an example, when Caleb Williams moves on to the NFL next year, USC will have internal options to replace him, but they can also recruit another quarterback from outside the program. If Tanner McKee declares for the draft, however, we know exactly what will happen. Stanford will enter the spring with a quarterback battle between Ari Patu and Ashton Daniels. There will be no other options.
At the end of the day, Stanford is 1-3, and as linebacker Levani Damuni said after Saturday's game, the Colgate game doesn't count. As I write this, it's been more than a year since the Cardinal beat a quality team, and this narrative won't change until they do. Perhaps this coming Saturday will give us that victory. I'll be watching, and regardless of what happens, I'll be writing.
