The First Rock Bottom
We know the idea of "rock bottom." It is the place from which nothing can get worse, and, ideally, the beginning of a return to normalcy. Perhaps a gambler spends away his child's college fund, or a family going through difficult times begins sleeping in their car.
Personal tragedies like those examples and the status of a football program are two very different subjects, but there is one thing that both have in common. We never really know where rock bottom is until we've gained enough perspective to look back from a higher perch. The gambler, for example, no doubt had several dark moments earlier on that he might've hoped were his bottom, and so it is with Stanford football.
As the Cardinal closed out the 2021 season with seven straight defeats, the 52-7 loss to Utah seemed like rock bottom, but it could also be argued that the 41-11 loss to Cal two games later was even worse. Surely the program could sink no lower. As we sat there licking our wounds after Big Game and then sat there still as the team lost to Notre Dame a week later, it was difficult to imagine things getting any worse.
But then this year began and things did just that. The 1-3 start with consecutive losses to USC, Washington, and Oregon was bad, but the devastating and wholly unexpected loss to Oregon State made things even worse. It certainly felt like the bottomest rock bottom we'd seen, and when the Cardinal rebounded with a rejuvenating upset victory over Notre Dame in South Bend and then another (less impressive) win over Arizona State it felt like things were better. We looked back at those four straight losses and knew the worst was behind us. Right?
The Rose Bowl
The loss to UCLA wasn't unexpected. My son and I made the trip out to Pasadena out of habit. I didn't think the Cardinal had much of a chance to beat the Bruins that evening, but it wasn't just my one annual chance to see my team in person; I knew that it might be my last chance to watch them play in the Rose Bowl, the most beautiful football stadium in the country.
I was there for the experience. We drove out early enough to beat most of the traffic, and we were even able to find my older daughter who was tailgating with UCLA friends. (She traitorously wore a UCLA sweatshirt to the game.)
There are few things better than college football tailgates, and I say this having never experienced the tailgating scene in Tuscaloosa or College Station or Ann Arbor or any of the other capitals of the game. The Rose Bowl sits adjacent to a golf course which becomes a grassy parking lot six or seven times a year with row upon row of cars, trucks, RVs, and canopies. Footballs are tossed back and forth, beers are enjoyed, and in the hours long before kickoff, optimism is high.
I wore a red Stanford hoodie with a large S on the chest and a pair of Stanford shoes on my feet, but no one seemed to be bothered. This was as much a reflection on the current state of the team as on the laid back attitude of most UCLA fans, but as we walked from the car to the stadium, one UCLA fan noticed my attire and playfully pretended to punch me in the stomach as we strolled past.
For the vast majority of live sporting events I've attended, my teams have been the visitors, and there's something special about that. When you cross paths with a similarly-attired fan there's eye contact at the very least, but often a fist bump or a quick conversation. It isn't as common when I'm watching my Yankees at Angels Stadium because there are so many of us there, but when the numbers are small, as they were at the Rose Bowl that night, the solidarity is strong.
I never buy tickets in the Stanford section as those seats are awful in the Rose Bowl and worse in the Coliseum, so we were sitting in excellent seats near midfield, surrounded by UCLA fans. As we waited for the kickoff, a family of five or six shuffled through the row in front of us. The father was wearing a Stanford cap and hoodie, and when he got to me he leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "Yeah, fuck all these guys! Fuck 'em!" We both knew what was coming, but in that moment it didn't matter. As we filed out of the stadium a few hours later following Stanford's 38-13 loss, I can't say I was disappointed.
The Real Rock Bottom
The home game against Washington State was the port in the storm. When the season began to disintegrate and likely losses against Notre Dame, UCLA, and Utah loomed on the horizon, fans pointed towards Arizona State and Washington State as opportunities for wins. After the Cardinal surprised with the Notre Dame upset, fans could see a path towards six wins and a bowl invitation. The four-game losing streak from early in the year had surely been rock bottom, and things were looking up.
The signs were there, but we chose to explain them away. The attrition in the running back room had gone from horrific to comical. (We didn't know it then, but it would get even worse.) E.J. Smith and Casey Filkins had been lost for the season and Caleb Robinson was out; considering that Austin Jones and Nathaniel Peat had left via the portal during the off-season, the Cardinal would be left with its sixth-best tailback as the only healthy runner on the roster. (It didn't help that freshman Arlen Harris had left the program during the week before UCLA.) In desperate need of a backup, the staff had asked for volunteers and accepted sophomore safety Mitch Leigber.
The Cougars entered the game with a three-game losing streak, and they had struggled on the road, so even given the Cardinal's glaring hole at running back, this still felt like a winnable game. It still felt like the team was going in the right direction. But then the game started.
Stanford opened the game on defense. On the opening play of the drive, linebacker Ricky Miezan and safety Patrick Fields were injured and removed from the game. On the next play it was linebacker Levani Damuni, and only a few plays later -- still on the opening drive -- it was safety Kendall Williamson. None of those four players would return. With four starters removed from the defense in the game's opening minutes and fellow starter Jacob Mangom-Farrar already out, it was no surprise that Stanford had trouble stopping the Washington State offense.
What was surprising was how quickly and how completely things fell apart. The Cougs scored three touchdowns in the first nine minutes and led 42-7 at halftime. The defensive struggles were somewhat understandable given the circumstances, but the offense was also self destructing. Some of the Cardinal's best players on that side of the ball contributed to the disaster, as two of the team's four lost fumbles came from Elijah Higgins and Ben Yurosek. In each case it seemed that the pressure of the situation, not just the moment, got the best of those two veterans. Both of their fumbles came as they struggled for extra yardage that wouldn't have made a difference in a game that was already beyond reach.
The Aftermath
Stanford fans in the Twitterverse were sharpening their knives. The failures on the field were evidence that the program had spiraled so far that nothing could be salvaged. David Shaw, they felt, simply had to be fired. As usual, any comment I made in opposition to that was met with angry disbelief. Ten years ago I couldn't have imagined that the Stanford fanbase would eventually mirror every other fanbase in America, but I suppose I was naïve in my youth.
I understand most of the criticisms. The offense is unimaginative, as I've written here already. The slow mesh was a nice enough wrinkle, but just as it was beginning to take shape, the rash of running back injuries rendered it ineffective and pointless. Shaw had spoken about simplifying the offense to take advantage of his players' strengths, but it's clear that McKee hasn't been comfortable for weeks. We still see an NFL-caliber throw once or twice a game, but far too often he's mired in indecision before being engulfed as the pocket collapses around him.
But not all of the criticisms are valid. The most perplexing is the idea that instead of holding himself accountable, Shaw blames the players and makes excuses. I watch every press conference he attends, and he always takes responsibility for what happens on the field. Every single time. As for the excuses, I'm not sure how he could've avoided mentioning the loss of four defensive starters on the opening series of the Washington State game or losing five running backs over the course of a month. Injuries are rarely the only reason a team loses a game (or several), but they still matter.
Finally, players also matter, and players need to be held accountable. As Utah was in the process of routing the Cardinal in a forgettable game this past weekend, there was one play that still sticks with me. With the score 7-7 with 6:49 to play in the first half (yes, it was close for a while), Utah faced 4th and 8 from the Stanford 32. Quarterback Cameron Rising lofted a pass deep down the left sideline. The Stanford defensive back was beaten by a step, but wide receiver Devaughn Vele still had to make a play, and he made a spectacular one, leaping high in the air and adjusting to a ball that was slightly to his outside shoulder. He came down with the reception at the 4, and Utah scored on the next play to take a lead it would never relinquish.
It's absurd to consider that play a turning point. After an opening three-and-out, Utah's possession chart looked like this: touchdown, touchdown, intercepted in the end zone, touchdown, touchdown, touchdown, touchdown. It wasn't a close game.
But Vele's play got me thinking. It seems like Stanford opponents, particularly the wide receivers, have come up with one or two spectacular plays every game, while Stanford's receivers -- the deepest and most talented unit on the offense -- can claim only a handful of such plays all season long. Critics will say that's just more evidence of coaching deficiencies, that well-coached teams make plays. I'd suggest that coaching has nothing to do with a wide receiver exceeding expectations to make a play on a ball, just as coaching had nothing to do with two defensive backs letting an Oregon State wide receiver get behind them for a 56-yard touchdown with less than thirty seconds left in a game that should already have been won.
Okay. What's Next?
I guess my point is this. In this train wreck of a season, there is plenty of criticism to go around. No one connected with the program would dispute that, and no one would claim to be free of blame.
The Cardinal will finish the slate with Big Game in Berkeley this weekend and a home game against BYU the following Saturday, and after that the soul searching will begin. Regardless of what the masses might want, David Shaw will not be fired. If athletic director Bernard Muir is happy with the job Jerod Haase is doing with the men's basketball team (zero NCAA bids in six years), he surely won't fire a man who's won two Rose Bowls.
All we can do, all David Shaw can do, and all the players can do is focus on one game at a time, specifically Big Game this Saturday. Cal is also in disarray right now, with a six-game losing streak, inept offensive statistics that mirror Stanford's, and a coaching staff that's lighter than it was last week as their offensive coordinator and offensive line coach were both fired over the weekend. Winning the Axe won't cure all of Stanford's ills, but it will be something. Something to build on.
