Every football coach’s criticism starts and ends with their play calls. Is he a genius on offense or always outsmarted under pressure?
Let’s talk about a number that keeps coaches up at night: fifty. Texas only managed fifty rushing yards against Florida in The Swamp. A committee member later said Florida “dominated that game,” hinting at Texas’s lack of ground game.
Here, film study meets psychology. The coach often says they aim to “control the line of scrimmage.” But after a loss, it seems they’re more focused on controlling the story.
We aim to break down the coach’s supposed identity. Is it the missing power run game or the inconsistent passing attack? To grasp the balance, we must examine the use of RPOs, running backs, and in their strategy.
The philosophy is like a Rorschach test. Some see brilliance in the plan. Others spot a flaw in its execution. We’ll look at the losses to Florida and Ohio State to uncover the truth. The findings are more intriguing than any fourth-down decision.
In-game decisions
That 3-8 record against top-10 teams is a big warning sign. It shows how in-game decisions are crucial. When the game doesn’t go as planned, what does the coach do? Steve Sarkisian often hesitates instead of adapting.
The loss to Florida was a big blow to Texas’s playoff hopes. The CFP committee chair made this clear. Sarkisian took the blame for the slow start. But, accepting blame is just the first step. The next step is to show you’ve learned from it.
Let’s look at the game closely. Florida, expected to struggle, dominated the line of scrimmage. The Longhorns’ response was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Where was the counterattack? The adjustment to get the run game going?
This pattern shows up in key moments:
- The failed fourth-down attempt when analytics said punt, but ego said go for it.
- The curious timeout called just as your own offense finds rhythm.
- The play call that feels like a surrender on a critical third-and-manageable.
These aren’t just complaints from armchair quarterbacks. They show real issues in decision-making under pressure. Sarkisian might be too loyal to his initial plan. He might not be aggressive enough when the game changes.
Great coaches have a feel for the game’s emotional temperature. They know when to stick and when to twist. Sarkisian’s game management sometimes feels like he’s watching the game through a spreadsheet rather than feeling its pulse.
The Florida game is a key example of the need for better coaching. The opponent was vulnerable, but Texas couldn’t capitalize. Adjustments came too late, if at all. This loss is a big “what if” in the season.
To improve, Sarkisian needs to be more flexible in-game. He should empower his assistants to speak up when the plan isn’t working. He needs to develop a killer instinct to take advantage of opponents when they’re weak. These skills are what separate good coaches from great ones.
The talent and facilities are there in Austin. The fans are passionate. But until the in-game decisions improve, the 3-8 record will keep being the story. And in college football playoffs, that story ends with watching from home.
The coaching critique aims to build up, not tear down. Identifying these failures is the first step to fixing them. For Sarkisian and Texas, time is running out.
Clock management
Clock management is where coaching meets math, showing Sarkisian’s mindset. It’s about making time feel different on offense and defense. This is a subtle art.
Imagine high-stakes chess at super speed. Every play call is a move that uses or saves time. Sarkisian’s play calling shows he knows tempo is about rhythm, not just speed.
His offense is balanced and controls the line, creating tension with clock management. Does he slow down to keep a lead, or speed up to get more plays? It depends. But the patterns show his strategy.
In the 14-7 loss to Ohio State, every second mattered. Sarkisian’s clock management at the end of halves was a lesson in timing. It could have been a game-changer.
What mattered wasn’t just the score, but how Texas got there. Sarkisian values keeping the ball as much as scoring. This is not just football; it’s strategic planning with the clock as the judge.
Third downs are key in this strategy. Sarkisian says converting third downs is about stealing time from the opponent. Success means more downs and time.
This strategy creates tough choices. Do you play safe to live another down, or go for it to win? Sarkisian often chooses the safe route, building drives carefully.
This approach is crucial in close games. In games against Georgia Tech and Texas, it can mean the difference between winning or losing. This is seen in tense battles.
Looking ahead, preparation is key. Sarkisian is preparing for next season, focusing on these time management scenarios. He wants players to know when to act.
This focus on Sarkisian play calling and clock management shows a coach aiming for long-term success. As Texas faces critical matchups, mastering time could be their strongest tool.
Clock management is what separates good coaches from great ones. Sarkisian’s approach is about quiet competence, not dramatic moments. He’s focused on making the clock work for him, one play at a time.
Red-zone tendencies
If football were a Broadway show, the red zone would be the climactic third act. It’s where everything gets resolved (or falls apart). The script is written, the characters are established, but can you stick the landing when the stage shrinks and the audience holds its breath? This compressed battlefield separates the merely good from the truly great, and it’s where Steve Sarkisian’s coaching critique gets its most revealing data points.
Consider Texas’s 27-17 victory over a previously undefeated Texas A&M squad. That wasn’t just a win; it was a masterclass in red-zone execution when the season hung in the balance. Touchdowns instead of field goals. Poise instead of panic. The Longhorns didn’t just move the ball between the 20s—they finished drives with the cold efficiency of a hitman.
But here’s the rub: that performance stands in stark contrast to other moments where drives have stalled like a car out of gas on I-35. The playbook that looks so expansive in the open field sometimes shrinks when the real estate gets precious. Does Sark trust his “big uglies” to bulldoze a path, or does he spread everyone out and put the game in his quarterback’s hands?
The evidence suggests a fascinating tension. Against A&M, we saw creative play-action passes and well-timed quarterback runs. In less successful outings, there’s been a puzzling retreat to conservative calls that feel like playing not to lose rather than playing to win. It’s the difference between a bold brushstroke and painting by numbers.
This is where true coaching critique earns its name. Anyone can draw up plays on a whiteboard. The real test comes when you have 10 yards to work with and six points on the line. Does the scheme create natural rubs and openings? Are there built-in answers for when the defense takes away your first read?
Red-zone efficiency doesn’t just change games—it alters entire seasons. Think about it: convert one more of those stalled drives into a touchdown against Alabama or Oklahoma, and the playoff conversation sounds completely different. Field goals keep you in games; touchdowns win championships. It’s that simple and that brutally complex.
The best offensive minds treat the red zone not as a constraint but as a canvas. They use the compressed space to their advantage, creating conflicts that defenses can’t solve in real time. When Sark leans into this creative mindset, as he did against Texas A&M, the results are spectacular. When he doesn’t, we get the maddening inconsistency that fuels sports talk radio for weeks.
So what’s the verdict in our coaching critique? Sarkisian has shown he possesses the schematic ingenuity to excel in football’s most pressurized environment. The challenge—and the opportunity—is applying that ingenuity consistently, not just when backs are against the wall. Because in the end, the red zone doesn’t lie. It reveals who you really are when everything’s on the line.
Areas for improvement
The autopsy of a season that fell short reveals fascinating clues. Steve Sarkisian’s defense of his team’s culture sounds like strong leadership. But is it also a way to avoid criticism of his play calling?
His thoughts on future scheduling are telling. He wants to look at easier non-conference games. This could be seen as a sign of less ambition for a program with Texas’s resources. Sarkisian’s advice is to focus on what you can control. For him, that means improving his own game plans.
Improvement isn’t just about scheduling. It’s about winning on the field, where strategy meets pressure. Sarkisian has seen big improvements in the vertical passing game this spring. This kind of detailed upgrade can make a big difference.
The team needs more than just new plays. They need a winning mindset. Sarkisian’s words suggest he knows this. Now, it’s time to see it on the scoreboard.
