Alabama 37 Texas 21

One second.

That is all it took to derail our season in Lubbock in 2008.  In 2009
we thought we got it back in Arlington.  But in 2010, the one second
that it took an Alabama defender to hit Colt McCoy's right
shoulder, our season was over again.

Damn.

As I sit on an American Airlines jet somewhere over Arizona, the
disappointment from Thursday night is dissipating into sadness.  Not
necessarily sadness because we lost, because believe me when I say
this school will win more national championships (plural) sooner
rather than later, but sadness for this group of seniors that deserved
more out of these last two seasons.

To use an over used cliche, nobody ever said that life was fair, but
what in God's name did Colt McCoy do to deserve what fate was in store
for him on Thursday night?

He played the game the right way, lives his life the right way and
says all the right things.  CBS NCAA basketball announcer Seth Davis
told his son after McCoy's post-game interview that he wanted his son
to grow up to be just like McCoy.

Did Joe Montana get hurt in any of his Super Bowls?  Did Derek Jeter
tear a hamstring in the World Series?  Has Kobe Bryant ever hurt his
knee in Game One of the NBA Finals?

Why?

I don't know.  To paraphrase a popular bumper sticker, it happens, but
that doesn't make it suck any less.

We'll never know if McCoy had played the whole game if we'd be
planning another championship celebration at DKR, but if you're like
me, you have a pretty good idea how it would have turned out.

Losing is bad, but losing while playing the "what if" game is just
torture.

As the clock hit zero on Thursday, the Colt McCoy Era at Texas ended.  45 wins. 4 bowl wins.  A BCS Bowl win.  A Big 12 Championship.  3-1 against Oklahoma.  A 12 win season.  A 13 win season.  But that chapter is now closed.

And so begins the Garrett Gilbert Era.  And I would be willing to bet
that one of those seasons will end with him hoisting a crystal ball
over his head in Glendale or New Orleans or Miami.  And we'll
celebrate, and plan another celebration at DKR.  And lost in all of
that hoopla, we'll forget about that fateful night in Pasadena.

For about one second.