Watching Oregon's recent performance against UCLA was a familiar experience for me—not in the sense of being frustrated by the mistakes or inconsistency, but rather in how the game reminded me of lessons learned long ago. Once upon a time, I would have been more upset with the Ducks' failure to capitalize on key opportunities. But instead of dwelling on what went wrong, I found myself thinking of how far we’ve come and where this team could go from here. It made me reflect on my playing days at Eastern Oregon, where one unforgettable game taught me how to appreciate the slow, difficult climb out of a rough stretch of seasons.
Back in my freshman season at Eastern Oregon, we were facing the aftermath of a winless season. The sense of defeat hung over us as we struggled through each game, barely keeping our heads above water, knowing full well we were staring at the possibility of another year without a win. Morale was low, expectations were even lower, and frankly, we had started to lose belief in ourselves.
Then came the ultimate challenge: the No. 1-ranked Linfield Wildcats were coming to La Grande, bringing with them an undefeated season and a swagger that suggested they expected nothing more than a glorified practice session. Linfield was a powerhouse; their roster was full of current and future All-Americans. We were a team still searching for our first win in two years. The odds, to say the least, were not in our favor.
I’ll never forget the mood in the locker room before that game. There was a quiet tension, but underneath it, a flicker of something different—determination. We knew no one believed in us, not even most of the fans who showed up out of loyalty rather than hope. But as players, we were tired of being overlooked, tired of seeing ourselves as the underdog who never had a shot. It wasn’t about winning or losing that day; it was about proving to ourselves that we still had fight left in us.
The game started, and right away, something was different. We didn’t fold like everyone expected. Our defense was hitting harder than they had all year, and our offense started moving the ball, finding cracks in Linfield’s otherwise impenetrable defense. Then, a moment I’ll never forget—our kicker stepped up and drilled a 55-yard field goal. One of the longest in school history. Suddenly, the energy on the field shifted. We weren’t just trying to survive; we were fighting.
Later in the first quarter, we scored an unexpected touchdown on a long pass play that left Linfield’s secondary scrambling. For the first time all season, we were ahead. 11-0 against the best team in the country. Of course, the Wildcats adjusted—they were too good not to. By the time the game ended, we had lost 31-11. But that day wasn’t about the final score. It was about that brief stretch where we saw ourselves not as losers, but as competitors. That game gave us the belief that we could climb out of the hole we’d been stuck in, and the next year, we won two games. Two small victories, but victories nonetheless, and they meant everything to a team that had been written off.
That game against Linfield stays with me, especially when I watch a performance like Oregon’s against UCLA. Sure, the Ducks made mistakes—turnovers, dropped passes, and an inconsistent offense that never found its rhythm after the second quarter gaffe by Gabriel. It’s easy to point out what went wrong. But it’s just as important to recognize what went right. Dillon Gabriel’s 52-yard touchdown pass to Tez Johnson was a flash of brilliance, showing that the offense has explosive potential. The defense, while not perfect, made key plays, including sacks and third-down stops that kept UCLA from running away with the game. And let’s not forget, this is still a team in transition, with new players stepping into critical roles and coaches trying to fine-tune their strategies for a tougher Big Ten schedule ahead.
What I’ve learned over the years, both as a player and as a writer, is that these moments are part of the process. Growth doesn’t always happen in neat, linear steps. It’s often messy, frustrating, and filled with setbacks. But like that game against Linfield, there are always signs of hope if you know where to look. Oregon might not have dominated UCLA the way many fans hoped, but they showed fight. And that’s where every turnaround begins.
I’ve found peace in recognizing that. Years ago, I would have been more upset with this performance, dwelling on missed chances and wondering what could have been. But I’ve come to realize that progress comes in small victories, even in defeat. It’s not always about the final score—it’s about the moments that show a team’s potential, the moments that remind you they’re still in the fight. Just like my Eastern Oregon team that went on to win those two games after facing the best team in the country, I believe this Oregon squad has its best football ahead of it. The key is to stay patient and trust the process.
Looking back, I’m thankful for that game against Linfield. It taught me that even in the darkest times, there are always reasons to believe. And watching Oregon today, I see plenty of reasons to believe they’re on the verge of something bigger.
