It was like an episode of “Let’s Make a
Deal.”
Monty Hall: “OK Coach Toledo, you’ve got a six point
lead and can try a field goal that would put No. 7 Oregon down by
nine points.”
Toledo: (looking at the crowd)”¦”Gee Monty, nine
points would mean they need to score twice to win, but we could
really use a touchdown”¦”
Crowd: “Noooooo, take the field goal, take the field
goal!”
Monty: “Coach, we need a decision. The play clock’s
running out.”
Crowd: “Field goal! Field goal! Nine point
lead!”
Unfortunately, you know how the play ends. In fact, the fake
field goal was essentially where it all ended Saturday.
His kicker, Chris Griffith, had an extra point blocked on the
previous Bruin possession, but instead of giving Griffith and his
special teams a chance to redeem themselves and their confidence,
Toledo opted for a contrived fake field goal play to the short side
of the field.
“It was a play that we had practiced and felt we
had,” Toledo said.
But had they practiced the play to get the fifteen yards they
needed for a first down, or for the eight they actually got? Hard
to say, especially since Oregon had freshman tight end Marcedes
Lewis smothered at the sideline eight yards out.
Over the course of any football game, play calling will
inevitably be second-guessed. But when an entire stadium of fans is
throwing up its collective arms in disbelief WHILE THE PLAY IS IN
PROGRESS, I suppose that qualifies as first-guessing.
The consummate gambler, Toledo was willing to take blame for the
the faker failure.
“Anytime you run a trick play, and it doesn’t work,
you’re open to criticism,” he said. “So I’m
open to criticism.”
And criticism he will get. In a series where three of the
previous four games had been decided by five points or less, a
nine-point lead would have been precious.
And it was some kind of vote of confidence for his senior
kicker. We’ll never know whether Toledo planned the play all
along, or if he didn’t trust Griffith to make a
45-yarder.
What we do know is that Griffith didn’t get another kick
until the potential game-winner that hooked left.
Forty five yards isn’t automatic in college football,
except maybe for Oregon’s manchild kicker Jared Siegel. But
why not give Griffith a chance to kick another ball and work out
whatever demons had been released on the blocked PAT?
“That was the opportune time to run the fake,”
Toledo said with the utmost confidence.
“I always go with what coach says,” Griffith said
with the utmost diplomacy.
It was a momentous momentum shift. From that point forward, it
was as though Toledo was the main character in a Greek tragedy who
had dared challenge the fates.
Just when UCLA stopped the Ducks on a third and five, referee
Chuck McFerrin indicated that the third quarter had expired and the
play would be run again.
Resuscitated, Oregon would score on the next play to take a
one-point lead, and the high-octane, video game-style UCLA offense
that had torched the Oregon DBs all day flamed out.
On third down of the possession after Oregon’s score, the
Bruins were once again in field goal range, and it looked as though
a flag thrown indicated a late hit on Cory Paus.
Instead, it was intentional grounding, which moved the ball back
to the 35 and forced a punt.
On what amounted to the Bruins’ final possession, UCLA
used two rushing plays to run the clock, but on third down, Paus
threw incomplete to Craig Bragg and the ball remained on the right
hash mark (or, for a right-footed kicker, the wrong hash mark) for
the missed 46-yard Griffith attempt.
It was a different game after the fake field goal.
“We thought they wouldn’t be expecting the fake, and
we’d pull it off,” Toledo said. “It didn’t
work, so it obviously wasn’t a good play.”
Or, as Monty Hall would say, the Bruins got zonked.