There was a buzz in the room. It was the biggest of stages, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Things were looking good -- a defensive stop, a few well-executed plays, and momentum seemed to be going our way. My living room was packed with people wearing burnt orange, filled with the nervous energy of more than a month's worth of hype. But things were looking good. There was hope. We had a chance to experience the highest reward a sports fan could desire: an undefeated season culminating in the victory of the National Championship, and Colt McCoy would be the one to bring us there.
"Hey. Hey guys... Why is Garrett Gilbert in the game?"
The small talk and side chatter quickly came to a halt as the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, "Colt is hurt. Colt is hurt."
Then it came -- the shock, the confusion, the panic. You could feel the collective reaction of breaths holding. A deep sinking feeling of despair crept in as a mild nausea overcame the pits of my stomach. My mind was racing, compensating, doing damage control. "Of course he's OK, right? He'll be back! Of course! He'll come back in after the timeout." But, alas, the freshman quarterback stayed in for the next play and the next and the next after that. The Texas faithful never got to see their beloved leader return to the fray. A night of optimistic misery followed, but we knew that they were really just toying with our emotions. Sadly, there was no new hope, and the misery followed us into the next season. Our fleeting chance at triumph was gone forever.
