We're Stronger Than We Were Last Year

The sight of Dwayne Moi Stone throwing a lead block on the game's opening drive had sent the internet into an absolute frenzy.

Nearly every NFL player shared the clip with a comment of their own, and among football fans, a consensus had already formed: the play of the year had just been decided in Week 1.

Now everyone was watching to find out whether the audacious moment — a quarterback becoming a Lead Blocker — had actually been a designed play.

Tasked with satisfying that curiosity was Holly Rowe, who had served as ESPN's full-time sideline reporter for college football since 1998.

"Coach, Zamir White's touchdown in the first quarter was absolutely astonishing. Over that 63-yard run, Dwayne Moi Stone threw the lead block. Was that a called tactic, or a decision made on the fly?"

Before Kirby Smart could answer, ESPN's viewership rating had already blown past 5.25%.

Roughly nine million households across America were waiting on the words that would come out of Georgia's head coach.

"Both. The play that was originally called was something else, but right before the snap, Moi changed it with an audible. I said 'both' because we do have plays in the book that use Moi as a blocker. We've prepared a tremendous amount for this season. We're blessed with excellent, versatile talent — and it would be a waste not to use it."

The revelation that there were plays in the playbook designed to use the quarterback as a blocker set the internet ablaze all over again.

Countless posts were going up in real time, and a substantial number of them voiced concern.

The reason quarterbacks are never used as blockers in football is simple — the risk of injury is far too great.

If a starting quarterback went down with a serious injury, a team might as well write off the entire season.

Holly Rowe knew this all too well, and she moved on to a second question she knew her viewers would be asking after Kirby Smart's answer.

"Isn't that just too dangerous?"

"We're very aware of that. Honestly, the play in the first quarter surprised even me. No coach in the world would ever design a play where the quarterback runs 63 yards and throws two blocks along the way."

"Thank you, Coach."

"Appreciate it."

Holly Rowe handed the microphone back to the broadcast booth, and Chris Fowler, having smoothly segued into commercial, pulled off his headset and mic assembly and stuck his tongue out at his colleague beside him.

"Unbelievable. Seriously."

"That was a shock."

"I grew up watching football. I think I saw my first college game when I was five years old. So how many years ago was that — 1967? And in all that time, that's the most incredible thing I have ever seen on a football field."

"Social media's already in complete meltdown, for what it's worth."

With the quarterback's lead block now paired with the head coach's interview, fans began openly voicing their expectations for what else Dwayne Moi Stone might show them.

Some compared Moi to a Taysom Hill upgraded by several tiers, while others called him Tom Brady and Lamar Jackson rolled into one.

Both amounted to the same verdict — the kid was endlessly versatile — and that was a rarity among the labels that tended to stick to quarterbacks.

It's a position where all you really need is the ability to throw the ball.

There's no particular need to be multi-talented.

But one thing was undeniable: he was tremendously fun to watch, and ESPN's live rating kept climbing, breaking past 5.5.

That was the highest figure ESPN had ever recorded for a Week 0–1 college football broadcast, and it came within striking distance of the 6.25% CBS had posted for its Georgia Week 1 coverage the previous year.

A broadcast network like CBS and a pay channel like ESPN are bound to be apples and oranges — yet the ratings gap had all but vanished.

Everyone sitting in front of their televisions wanted one thing.

Another jaw-dropping play.

As that expectation swelled among the fans, the commercial break ended and the broadcast returned to the field.

(Chris Fowler) — ESPN Commentator

"Welcome back! The Clemson Tigers have spent the entire first half unable to collect themselves in the face of the Georgia Bulldogs' ferocious offense and relentless defense. I'm Chris Fowler, alongside Kirk Herbstreit. And we simply cannot move on without talking about it — the lead block by the quarterback."

(Kirk Herbstreit) — ESPN Analyst

"Looking at the results, that play seems to have dealt Clemson a genuine shock. They've ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been completely overwhelmed from the opening whistle. What's clear is that Clemson, at least in today's game, is feeling the absence of the players who left the team."

(Chris Fowler)

"A Clemson squad that lost a host of offensive weapons, including Trevor Lawrence and Travis ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Etienne. Judging by the first half alone, they simply haven't gotten enough production from the players meant to replace them. Meanwhile, Dwayne Moi Stone has remained very much Dwayne Moi Stone."

(Kirk Herbstreit)

"He has, quite literally, done everything in this half. He opened running lanes for his back, delivered the ball safely from the pocket, and of course, pulled it down and ran the scramble himself. He is the definition of a versatile weapon. When you consider that Clemson's defense is by no means weak, this young man has been outstanding in the first half."

If I were grading the first half, I'd give it about a 65.

Truthfully, Clemson's defense gave us some trouble.

If it hadn't been for Christopher Smith's Pick-Six, the margin would have been 17, not 24.

For the record, a pick-six is when a defender intercepts the ball and dashes into the end zone for a touchdown.

And if the defense intercepts an opponent's two-point conversion attempt and keeps those two points off the board, that's called a pick-two.

Anyway.

I wanted the second half to be better.

The early momentum was great — the rest of the half was what left something to be desired.

Tap.

.

.

Tap.

I'd come out of the locker room and, before the third quarter began, was trading passes with Vandergriff.

When I came back to the bench after lead-blocking for Zamir's touchdown, that guy had looked at me like I was some hero out of a myth.

Tap.

"Let's go."

"Yep."

Since special teams were on the field, I quickly moved down the sideline and pulled on my headset, then stood at the rail watching the field.

The second half would open with Clemson's offense.

Jake's kickoff.

Clemson called for a fair catch.

They'd be starting from their own 25.

"Let's Go, Let's Go!"

I raised my voice to cheer on the defense as they took the field, then stationed myself beside Coach Monken to watch how things unfolded.

The first snap of the second half.

A running play again.

"Isn't that a little too simple?"

【"Works just fine for us."】

The man I was talking to right now was Coach Buster Faulkner, up in the control tower.

As befitting a quarterbacks coach and offensive quality coach, we were analyzing Clemson strictly through the lens of the offensive skill players.

"I wonder if they actually came prepared."

【"It's a talent gap."】

"You think they've figured it out yet?"

【"Figured what out?"】

"That DJ isn't the answer."

【"Ha. I'd wager they have."】

That Trevor Lawrence would enter the NFL after his junior season was a fact even a stray dog on the street knew.

So last year, Clemson had recruited a quarterback rated a 5-Star 101 by 247Sports — DJ Uiagalelei.

But there was one detail worth noting here.

ESPN had rated him a 4-Star.

Some variance between outlets analyzing high school players is only natural, but knocking a 101-rated quarterback all the way down to a 4-Star was something you almost never saw.

Players in those situations usually end up failing, and if that was the case, I thought Clemson should have recruited the quarterback position more aggressively this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠year.

But Clemson didn't.

They chose to believe in DJ instead.

From where I was standing, though, that faith — Clemson's and Dabo Swinney's alike — looked like it was about to be betrayed.

He was not a good quarterback. Not even a little.

His limitations were on full display.

Even now, I could see it: he handed off on the first snap and gained less than a yard, and a pass play he tried with Trips lined up to the right was swallowed up by Devonte's hands.

Granted, our D-line really is killer-good, but inside the pocket the kid just looked powerless.

Setting aside the pass interference on Nakobe — a 15-yard penalty and an automatic first down gifted to them — nine plays had netted them a grand total of 12 yards.

This.

Clemson's going to have a rough year, aren't they?

Second-and-7 from their own 52.

Jordan Davis, back home again, punished the quarterback's clumsy play action with a sack.

What on earth was he trying to do?

Did he memorize the Play Book at all?

He should've cut left right then.

It looked like a running option designed to cross the fullback from the right side over to the left and have him take the block — but for some reason DJ started right, then immediately flipped his path back to the left.

The kid forgot the play.

So he lost 2 yards.

Painful to watch.

The guy is so— so bad it defies description.

Of course, part of the problem was that Clemson's No. 74 had been blown back so easily, letting Jordan Davis through untouched.

A comprehensive mess.

That phrase seemed exactly right.

Over on the opposite sideline, Dabo Swinney stood with a hand resting on his head, half out of his mind.

Third-down conversion.

Clemson had failed to pick up a single first down on third down today. Not once.

Third-and-9.

Five players who specialized in the Blitz were currently arrayed up front.

Clemson was running a 1-1 PG with four receivers split on either side of the O-line — and I couldn't help thinking, you've already been gashed even running your tight end as a blocker, where's the audacity coming from?

Granted, with a competent quarterback it could have turned into a counterpunch, but judging by today's plays, the odds of that were nil.

And sure enough.

This time the gap opened on the opposite side from before.

All five O-linemen plus the fullback were so fixated on the three D-linemen crashing in first that they lost the plot entirely.

For the linebackers who charged in on a slight delay, carving through an O-line that had committed to the D-line was easier than eating a slice of cake.

A massive seam yawned open between Clemson's right guard and tackle, and Nakobe shot into it.

The beast of a man, seemingly intent on atoning for that pass interference gaffe, seized DJ by the waist and slammed him into the turf without mercy.

Two sacks in a row.

Clemson's drive was dead.

No way they go for it.

【"Let's Go! Our turn."】

"Yes, sir."

I pulled off my headset and turned my ear toward Coach Monken.

Before Clemson punted, I needed to get the call.

"How about a quick game?"

"Good with me. Clemson's No. 23 reacts slow."

"Same thing I was thinking. Let's run the X-quick."

"Yes, sir."

Weighing the first-half result, the flow of the game, Clemson's roster, and the score gap all together, this drive could very well put the game completely out of reach.

At minimum, we had to put points on the board.

Boom—!

Clemson's punt.

The ball sailed high.

(Chris Fowler)

"Moi. In the pocket. To the end zone— CAUGHT!! Jordan Addison! Georgia finds the end zone on a 38-yard touchdown! This score could be absolutely fatal!"

The moment Jordan, arcing beautifully through the air, gathered in the pass I'd sent him, I pumped up my left hand — index finger raised — and clenched it into a fist.

The first drive of the second half had fizzled into nothing but a field goal, which had been frustrating, but before the third quarter closed out we marched 75 yards in seven plays and punched in the touchdown.

Special teams trotted out for the extra point.

"Good work."

"Whew— yes, sir."

"What's the plan for the fourth quarter?"

"I'd like to give Van a chance."

"Understood."

With 30 points separating us and 15 minutes left to play, the game was, for all practical purposes, decided.

Van and the rest of the bench would get their snaps in the fourth quarter, and I could hardly wait to see what the freshmen would do with them.

"Let's go, Dude--! We absolutely killed it out there!"

"That's what I've been saying!"

"Haha—!"

As I traded celebrations with the guys running up to me, savoring how the game had gone so far, the third quarter came to an end.

"How far'd he get?"

"Didn't get there. Right where it was."

Whatever verdict you wanted to render on Clemson's strength from what I'd felt on the field today, dominating the scoreboard like this and sending in the backups for the fourth quarter carried real meaning.

You might call it a declaration to the entire league: Georgia's still the best in the land this year, too.

Jalen Carter.

Karis Coleman.

Zion Logue.

The entire D-line was now stocked with backups, while the linebackers and safeties stayed on with the starters for the moment.

As I was watching the field, Coach Cortez came over and told me something.

"Trevor Lawrence is in the stands."

"Really?"

"Yep. The VIP lounge."

"Damn— that's gotta sting for the kid, huh?"

I looked up toward the direction Coach Cortez pointed.

I couldn't see him, but apparently that's where he was sitting.

Right now Trevor was being hailed as the savior destined to lead the Jacksonville Jaguars — a franchise mired in utter gloom — and my honest take was that he was doomed from the very start.

Their head coach is Urban Meyer.

On a college field where the spread offense still works, fine — but at the NFL level, Meyer's philosophy simply doesn't translate.

The differences in the rules can't be ignored either.

And honestly, that part matters quite a lot.

Anyway.

I fully understand the urge to coddle a first-overall quarterback picked at the end of a long tank. But even if the kid takes his lumps early in his career, you have to bring in a head coach who can build a real system first.

The textbook example of a franchise that can't run an organization to save its life, I suppose.

And of all places, the kid had to land in Jacksonville.

"Right there, that's it--!!"

"Huh?"

Oh no.

What did I miss?

I hurried back toward the sideline and asked Devonte, who was standing there, what had happened.

"What is it? What happened?"

"We got a sack."

"Again?"

"Yep— Nolan dug in and got home clean."

"That's beautiful."

The backup D-linemen had come in, but the defense, riding a full head of steam, kept serving nightmares to DJ without letup.

Sacks and incompletions on repeat.

Eventually Clemson turned to their running back to grind out yards — it worked once or twice, but as they kept pounding the same stone, it dried up too.

So Clemson then tried an attack built around their tight end, something resembling our Hello Kitty — and the moment they changed their strategy, our inside guys went berserk.

When the snap came, Channing Tindall, who had calmly dropped back, read the play perfectly and charged at the tight end.

The hit landed almost the instant the ball touched the receiver's hands, and Clemson's No. 84, struck from behind with his back fully exposed, dropped the ball.

A chorus of voices erupted at once.

"FUMBLE!!"

"He dropped it!!"

I barely had time to point at the ball tumbling across the turf as if on cue before Jalen Carter dove onto it first, with Clemson's men swarming in right behind him.

All eyes fixed on the referee as he approached the literal mountain of bodies and made his call.

Brock Bowers had somehow materialized at my side.

When did this kid even get here?

Not that it matters.

What's the call?

What happened?

One by one the big men rose from the pile, and the referee — nearest to the field — pointed toward Clemson's end zone.

Change of possession.

We roared all over again.

"THAT'S what I'm talking about!!!!"

"Tell Clemson to go fuck themselves!!"

"LET'S GO---!!!"

The season opener, where absolutely everything clicked.

We're stronger than we were last year.