From Unbroken Soil

Texas Tech Football: Culture Forged Before the Spotlight

Growing up on the South Plains outside of Lubbock, I learned as a kid that comfort is not a promise that exist. The land teaches you that before any person does. The wind refrains from negotiation. It announces its presence and demands you recognize it. The heat doesn’t care. It comes from above and radiates from below on August afternoons. And the ground doesn’t give unless you work it. Even then, it is a honorable opponent.

I learned to be present because distraction had consequences. Many of my earliest lessons came with a ball in my hand or riding the plow of a tractor with my Grandpa Leon in the driver seat. He farmed dry land cotton. For those who don’t know, that means no irrigation. Just what the good Lord provides. When you’re cutting through the unbroken soil that hasn’t felt rain in months, you hang on or you get tossed.

There is no smooth ride through resistance.

If you want something of value,

something that will sustain you,

you earn it through your grit, consistency and presence in the moment.

Presence is a prerequisite for all things. You don’t need words to learn that purpose stabilizes you when your environment proves fickle. It’s how the brain learns to regulate under load. This is where an unwritten contract is signed somewhere deep in your brain. In your nervous system. In your soul.

This team plays like it understands that contract.

What that contract asks in return isn’t compliance or conformity. It demands players drop the need to perform an egocentric identity and live their own. It demands them to be willing to step into the discomfort of evolving into the next version of themselves. It is an act of transcending who they thought they were and stepping fully into who they are and are yet to be.

I believe there is a silent power in a group that has no need to convince you of who they are. Their collective and individual identity creates a sacredness. What’s underneath it all, if we pull it back and look, is a love for each other without conditions. The kind of love that creates an environment where holding the standard every day, while challenging everyone around them to do the same, is the norm. It’s not sentimental fluff. It’s real.

No posturing.

No borrowed identities.

No performative toughness being choreographed for game day cameras or the crowd.

Just sacred, holy alignment in violent force.

When a person combines intentional work, and belief in themselves and the team vision, the brain no longer has to waste energy on self protection or self promotion. It can now put its effort into focus and execution. Through all the ups and downs, this is what we saw this season.

We see and hear it in post game locker room talks on social media. Coach McGuire’s philosophy spills over and lives in the margins. It was not something built for highlight reels or ESPN Top 10 Countdowns. It’s in how players finish plays in practice no one will ever see on their phone scrolling instagram. It’s in the absence of theatrics in how they hold each other accountable. In how feedback (both correction and praise) is direct and emotionally regulated. It’s not absence of emotion. Emotions are a part of the journey but knowing how to navigate life and competition in the midst of the emotions is a crucial piece.

After the loss to Oregon, as Behren Morton answered questions in the post game press conference, fighting through emotions, Coach McGuire rested his hand on Behren’s leg, not to stop him from feeling, but to let him know he was with him. Both Behren and Jacob Rodriquez spoke about the impact the people and environment has had on their lives and what it means to be part of. These moments speak more about this culture than any win could. It was a moment we watched competitors, broken with heartache of a season ending too soon, feeling all of the pain they can’t put into words but only feel in their chest. And yet, owning the outcome while expressing how much this program impacted their lives.

This matters more than people understand.

People in the media and across the country will speak about the contributions for the transfer class but what they miss is the hours of preparation and meticulous care that goes into creating culture. Most teams fight to create motivation and mislabel it as culture. But motivation will never sustain. You can get the best of the best on campus but the secret sauce is the culture that is felt the minute you step into the building.

If you’ve ever been near a church bell when it tolls, you know what I’m talking about. The deep, resonant tone caused by the vibration that sends pressure waves through the air creating that distinct encounter. It’s not just an auditory experience. You feel something more in the space between. Lingering. Echoing within you.

Leadership like this one can’t be copied. People may be able to borrow the same language or drills but they cannot fake who a leader is at their core.

Teams don’t fail under pressure due to a lack of desire. They fail when their central nervous system perceives the moment as a threat rather than purpose. When adversity causes stress and hits the tipping point. The moment ego hijacks attention. As players become performance focused instead of curious. What I’ve observed is a staff that has built a mentality where joy and competitive edge coexist. Most athletes will never experience those two states sharing the same space. You can see that this environment is for the people who have learned that in order to grow and have a chance to break through the soil, something has to die first. You have to understand that in order to push through the soil and feel the sun, you have to leave things behind that are holding you back.

This is modeled and trained with deep intention. It is not accidental. It’s engineered.

This is a rarity in college football. The teams that hold paradox are the ones who build a high capacity to move in unison with a shared vision they believe in. What most miss is the mental check in that is happening. When their cleats hit the turf, the switch flips engaging a fierce competitiveness, harnessing their ego rather than letting it take control. This switch lives in the prefrontal cortex where making decisions reside. And it only works when identity is clear and players feel safe to compete as themselves, keeping the fight or flight response from the amygdala at bay.

It’s not the endless chasing of an emotional high. There is no downward spiral when momentum shifts. The depth of love they feel for each other, the staff, and the brand remains even when things don’t fall their way. We’ve seen it happen time and time again this season.

Fans see this and call it mental toughness. But there is more to it. That’s regulation built on the foundation of love. What I’m observing is in this system, failure doesn’t exist. It’s not a threat like most view it. It is pure, raw data. It has nothing to do with players identity or the collective identity of the team. What most would label failure is feedback in the service of growth.

For Texas Tech Football, culture has stopped being a concept and has become a gas pedal. When culture is clear and identity is shared, you will watch hesitation disappear. Reaction times improve. Trust sharpen. Decisions grow cleaner, faster. The athletic community calls it flow. What’s happening under the surface is the brain has stopped hunting for certainty and has found freedom because it doesn’t have to think about the two questions that matter,

“Who am I?” and “Who are we?”

Because they already know.

What we have been able to witness from this team isn’t a singular moment. It’s not a blip on the radar. It’s a system doing exactly what it has been designed to do under an immense load without flinching.

And the hard truth of it all.

This doesn’t lead to perfection.

And won’t always lead to championships.

The Red Raiders are choosing to travel down a path toward something far more impactful. Hard coaching without internal collapse. Standards without shame. Identity that is empowered not muzzled. Belief you can feel in your lungs before you can ever articulate it.

In a world addicted to spectacle, there is something beautiful about a team more interested in who they are becoming than how they are perceived. A team who doesn’t chase flash. They could care less about the noise. They show up daily to hold the standard they’ve set and they fight like hell to do it with consistency. Because they know in their bones that to have the best chance at greatness, it must be built with pride, care, and attention to the details.

Watching this season has been a reminder that performance doesn’t have to come at the expense of humanity. That when character is coached as relentlessly as execution, the scoreboard stops being the only measure of success.

Congratulations to Coach McGuire, his staff, and the players on their historic season.

It was one that didn’t arrive by luck. It came to be the way everything in Lubbock does. Deliberate. Weathered. And undeniable. Nothing about this is accidental.

It’s in the soil.

In the dust.

They are a testimony proving that nothing survives out here without roots. And nothing grows in the absence of love. This program has shown us what it looks like to be purposeful in decisions, precise in execution, and uncompromising in its standards.

Texas Tech Football is no longer chasing identity. It is standing in it.