We are all meant for certain roles in life.
This doesn’t, however, mean we all get to play them.
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Each of us has a talent, a gift, something we do better than anything else (and which has a noble or at least productive aim, not a harmful one). Ideally, that gift falls in line with our passions and hopes. Realistically, that gift might not exist to the extent we think it does (or should). It is good and right and appropriate to be boldly aspirational as human organisms — we are meant to be that way, and the moment we cease to be, something profound and essential to life has been lost. Yet, every person comes across a moment in life when s/he realizes, “As good as I am at this one particular skill or in this one field of endeavor, there are a few things I’m not yet ready to do, or which someone can do better. I want to get to the point where I can do everything, but I’m not there — not right now.”
This is clearly the case with Texas Tech head coach Kliff Kingsbury. In that statement, there is absolutely no shock value whatsoever.
This could be the case with Texas A&M head coach Kevin Sumlin, and in making that statement, one must encounter a very uncomfortable and inconvenient reality: While there’s no need for any sort of final verdict on Sumlin — let’s see what the next three and a half football seasons tell us — it’s becoming increasingly difficult to view him as a particularly distinguished head coach.
The condition of Texas A&M’s offense — not so much the team — in the wake of Saturday night’s meek and timid showing against Ole Miss should underscore how much Sumlin is falling short in AggieLand. This story is primarily about Sumlin, but it also has something to do with the offensive coordinator who had to leave Sumlin behind; scratch the itch aspirational people must scratch in the course of a career; and become a head coach in a Power 5 conference.
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We all asked two questions when Kliff Kingsbury went to Texas Tech to chase a dream at his alma mater:
1) “Did Kingsbury make Sumlin, or did Sumlin make Kingsbury?”
2) “Did Johnny Manziel make Sumlin and Kingsbury, or did Sumlin and Kingsbury make Manziel?”
So many of us who follow college football were captivated by the tension points at work in the Texas A&M and Texas Tech programs. Manziel is a click-bait-magnet, SEO-friendly sports figure, which means that you’re probably thinking bloggers (such as myself) love him for the pageviews he generates.
You might think this next statement is a bunch of baloney, but I loved him simply because he was immensely entertaining between the painted white lines. I cared not for any of the dramas which enveloped him off the field, with the exception of the autograph-signing incident, which exposed (again) the ridiculousness of the NCAA’s stance toward players being unable to make a buck based on sales of jerseys, autographs, and other items which flow directly from being really good at playing football, part of a billion-dollar industry.
Manziel — it was clear — possessed unique gifts, the kinds that can’t be taught. To this extent, he existed (as a force) independently, beyond the reach of Sumlin or Kingsbury or any other coaching figure. Yet, there was no doubt that in 2012, Manziel worked very smoothly in and with the Texas A&M offensive system. It was a great match, uniting head coach, coordinator, and quarterback. It worked. It achieved richly. It embarrassed the bejeezus out of Oklahoma in the Cotton Bowl.
A few years later, Oklahoma — along with Ole Miss — has helped show us that while we haven’t read or seen the last word on this subject (it’s a story which is still being written), the answers to those questions above are becoming clearer.
Kliff Kingsbury made Kevin Sumlin in 2012 more than the other way around. Johnny Manziel made Sumlin and Kingsbury, not the other way around.
Again, those aren’t final verdicts, but the body of evidence we have to work with is leading us in those directions.
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Saturday night against Ole Miss, Texas A&M quarterback Kyle Allen — the same man who threw not one, not two, but three pick-sixes against Alabama (and its increasingly mediocre offense) — arrived at a point where he completed just one of 19 passes.
A quarterback went 1 for 19 at any given point in time?
This must be a Jacksonville Jaguars or Cleveland Browns situation… or maybe a triple-option quarterback… or Reggie Ball… or B.J. Daniels at his worst.
Nope. This was a Kevin Sumlin-coached quarterback… with Kliff Kingsbury nowhere to be found on the A&M sideline.
Compounding the problem — and my personal sense of bafflement, given that I’ve been a Sumlin believer for quite some time — is that Sumlin:
A) didn’t really move to change his approach;
B) clearly doesn’t trust Kyler Murray.
By leaving Allen in, Sumlin isn't even trying to win. His presence is a white flag. A&M press needs to hammer Coach in post game presser.
— Doug Keegan (@doug_keegan) October 25, 2015
In the postgame presser, Sumlin said his decision not to play Allen’s backup was based on practice. Well, this raises the issue of how Sumlin and offensive coordinator Jake Spavital are structuring their practices and developing quarterbacks. It’s true that this is only the second season of the post-Manziel era, and it’s also true that coaches sometimes get stuck with quarterbacks who just don’t work out. When they move beyond them, they become more successful again. See Steve Spurrier with Doug Johnson at Florida. When he moved to Jesse Palmer and especially Rex Grossman, his offenses didn’t look as bad anymore.
I’m still willing to give Sumlin time to prove himself as an elite coach. More specifically, Allen’s problems aren’t even the biggest source of concern in relationship to Sumlin’s job performance. What’s worrisome is that the backup with an evident skill (Murray is a jackrabbit who should be used as a running quarterback, placed in positions where his legs can make plays for an offense in dire need of a jump-start) is not being used. If you’re in search of the right quarterback, why aren’t you turning to Plan B when Plan A clearly isn’t working?
Sumlin has to answer that question as he moves forward at Texas A&M. Meanwhile, the coordinator he once had is going through a Groundhog Day existence at Texas Tech.
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It doesn’t require any real explanation, because it is obvious in the present tense and was just as obvious on the day he was given a boatload of money (and trust) by Texas Tech’s leadership structure: Kliff Kingsbury can’t field a defense in Lubbock.
Another Saturday, another autumn, another season — they all blur together for the Red Raiders. They can’t stop a flea from scoring seven points on a drive.
Texas Tech keeps watching Big 12 opponents pile up fat numbers, and one gets the sense that Kingsbury could be a head coach in the year 2027 and not make one small dent in the points-allowed column.
I referred above to being willing to see what the next three and a half seasons teach us about Sumlin, chiefly on the matter of cultivating quarterbacks. I’m similarly willing to give Kingsbury time to cultivate a defense at a place — Lubbock — where it’s hard to win big. Yet, if evidence is accumulating in support of a given view or line of thought, it is certainly piling up on the side of the ledger which indicates that Texas Tech exists on a fiscal Kliff, one in which the head coach can’t get the players or coaches needed to play credible defense in a league which punishes deficient defenses.
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Once more and with feeling, this is not a final verdict forever and ever, but it is the reality being affirmed in the present tense, by evidence unearthed in Oxford, Mississippi, and Norman, Oklahoma:
If we are all meant to play certain roles in life, the role increasingly meant for Kevin Sumlin is to coach in the American Athletic Conference. The role meant for Kliff Kingsbury is offensive coordinator, not head coach.
We’ll see if either man can shed those labels — and the limitations attached to them — in the course of the next few years.
