Miami – It wasn’t the heat that killed the Buffaloes. It was the humility.
Colorado was humbled Saturday. There’s no shame in losing to Miami 23-3.
But know what was a tad embarrassing? The Buffs were beaten before they stepped on the field where the Hurricanes have claimed five national championships since 1983.
It takes faith to walk into the creepy, old Orange Bowl, which might be college football’s baddest neighborhood, and act like you own the joint.
Supreme confidence is essential to wipe that smirk off 12th-ranked Miami and knock the cocky ‘Canes on their diamond-studded ears.
The Buffaloes traveled way too far to go away so meekly.
“It was not the fight we wanted to put up,” CU coach Gary Barnett said in a defeat that seemed like destiny.
Barnett never trusted his players enough to have a fighting chance. Why do we suspect that to be true?
There comes a defining moment in every crucial game when you discover whether a coach truly believes in his players’ natural ability to win.
The telling moment arrived in the opening 15 minutes of the contest against Miami. Colorado looked into the eyes of the Hurricanes. And blinked. Here was the situation, which succinctly reveals why the Buffaloes no longer act – or play – like an elite football program.
Miami appeared as vulnerable as the home team’s early, shaky, three-point lead.
CU, in possession of the ball, was on the march. It was third down. Near midfield. The Buffaloes needed less than a yard to move the chains.
All week long, Barnett had preached Miami’s defense was too fast to avoid by trying to run away.
The lone way to score big on the ‘Canes, Barnett insisted, was to boldly go right at them.
“We knew we had to run the ball north and south,” CU offensive coordinator Shawn Watson said.
What happened in this game’s moment of truth made Barnett look like a preacher who had lost faith in his own sermon.
As quarterback Joel Klatt walked to the line of scrimmage, he emptied the CU backfield. Had Klatt lost his mind? Barked the wrong signals in the huddle? Was this play going to be a QB sneak? Or did the Buffaloes actually consider third-and-inches a passing situation?
No, no, no.
Colorado tailback Hugh Charles started in motion toward Klatt a beat before the snap. Charles took the handoff. And ran straight toward Barnett on the CU sideline.
No, no, no.
The Buffs, with their beefy, short-yardage personnel in the game, attempted a sweep that took longer to develop than a tropical storm. CU was trying to fool Miami. A trick play. If it worked, Watson said, “We’re geniuses.”
No, no, no.
With the pigskin in his hands, Charles never had a chance.
“It was a full sweep, and their safeties were flowing so fast,” explained Charles, sounding like a man trapped in one of those slow-motion nightmares. “It didn’t work.”
No, no, no.
Charles lost 3 yards, piled under like that poor, helpless Wile E. Coyote always was by a ton of Acme bricks in those old “Road Runner” cartoons.
Then, on fourth down, a thoroughly humbled Colorado meekly punted. More than 75 percent of the game remained, but the day had its metaphor.
The Buffaloes stumbled through the rest of the afternoon like tourists happy to get a snapshot and scurry home. CU needed a late, 58-yard field goal by Mason Crosby to keep alive a school streak of 200 games without a shutout. The visitors committed a rash of penalties normally associated with nervous anxiety.
CU deserved better than a weak call on short yardage, where there’s nowhere to hide from the truth.
Barnett did miracles with trick plays and clever X’s and O’s back when he was coach of those scrappy overachievers at Northwestern.
But Barnett knows the truth.
Schemers don’t win a national championship. Players do.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-820-5438 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
