Texas football is a program that has heard every criticism in the book, from being labeled as underachievers to being accused of not being able to win on the big stage, but in 2025, things feel entirely different. The Longhorns have built themselves into a team with not only star power but also a sense of collective identity that allows them to perform with balance, swagger, and quiet confidence. The narrative surrounding Texas versus Ohio State isn’t just about another football matchup—it’s about shifting power, cultural pride, and a reminder that college football doesn’t stand still. While Ohio State fans have long clung to their historical dominance, particularly their multiple playoff appearances and their reputation as perennial Big Ten powerhouses, Texas is sending a clear signal that those who cling too tightly to the past may be humbled when reality finally sets in. That reality, according to insiders close to the Texas program, is that the Longhorns have what it takes to crush the ego of Ohio State fans who believe history is enough to guarantee relevance.
What makes Texas so compelling this season is not just their talent but also their collective mentality. Insider Stevens, who has watched the program’s evolution closely, made it clear with his statement that this Texas squad doesn’t care for outside noise. In his words, this team carries a “No bulls**t” mentality. That isn’t just bravado; it’s a cultural statement. It’s about a group of athletes who aren’t going to let narratives, analysts, or even history dictate how they play on the field. They know they are elite. They know they’ve earned their standing not because of chatter but because of preparation, discipline, and production when the lights are the brightest. Ohio State fans may want to relive their glory days of dominating the Big Ten or point to trophies that line their program’s history, but Texas is saying those accomplishments are irrelevant to the present moment. This Longhorns squad is redefining what dominance looks like, and they don’t need validation from anyone outside their locker room.
There is a fascinating psychological tension at play when discussing Texas versus Ohio State, one that makes this clash more than just a football game. Ohio State supporters, loyal and passionate, often take pride in their program’s past conquests—their national championships, their NFL pipeline, and their ability to consistently appear in playoff conversations. That tradition has become part of their identity. But the problem with tradition is that it can make fans feel untouchable, even when the reality on the field is changing. Texas, on the other hand, has spent years enduring jabs about “being back,” about not living up to the hype, and about failing to finish the job. That constant ridicule created a program that had to evolve not just in strategy but in mindset. Now, with recruits flooding to Austin, the coaching staff executing with precision, and veterans demanding excellence from themselves and their teammates, Texas isn’t trying to prove something to critics—they are simply proving it to themselves. That shift in mentality is what makes their “elite play” so threatening to a program like Ohio State, which sometimes feels weighed down by its own legacy.
Stevens’ words cut straight to the core of why this Texas team feels different. “No bulls**t” isn’t about trash talk; it’s about focus. It’s about saying that critics, doubters, or rival fans are irrelevant when the team has already internalized its confidence. This quiet belief in themselves is what separates elite programs from those living on borrowed time. Ohio State fans may argue that their team has the pedigree, but pedigree doesn’t win football games in 2025. Execution does. Pedigree doesn’t score touchdowns, sack quarterbacks, or break tackles. Preparation, teamwork, and hunger do. That’s why the Texas Longhorns believe their elite play isn’t just going to win games—it’s going to humiliate fan bases that think the past can substitute for the present.
There’s also the matter of how Texas is physically built to take on a team like Ohio State. The Longhorns’ roster is balanced in ways that make them adaptable to any opponent. Their offensive line is no longer the liability critics once called it; instead, it’s one of the more disciplined units in the country, giving their quarterback the confidence to stay poised under pressure. Their receiving corps is fast, skilled, and relentless, stretching defenses in ways that force opponents to play honestly across the field. And on defense, Texas has playmakers who can pressure the quarterback, disrupt passing lanes, and stop the run at the line of scrimmage. That completeness makes them dangerous. Against Ohio State, whose offense is traditionally built around explosive plays and a high-powered passing game, Texas’ defense has the tools to force mistakes, turn the ball over, and impose their physical will. And for all of Ohio State’s history, it won’t matter if they are physically dominated in the trenches.
What often gets overlooked is the emotional aspect of games like this. Ohio State’s fan base is used to confidence, even arrogance. They expect to win because their history tells them they should. But when a fan base that has lived off past glory collides with a team that is entirely focused on proving something in the present, egos are bound to be bruised. Texas fans know what it feels like to be mocked, and that makes their hunger sharper. The players feed off that energy, but instead of channeling it into noise, they use it as fuel to keep their heads down and work. That is why this Texas team doesn’t care about what critics or fans say; they’ve heard it all before, and they’re done with it. They’ve replaced the need for external approval with internal conviction. That conviction is what makes them dangerous and why Ohio State fans may soon have to confront a sobering reality about where their program truly stands.
If this matchup plays out the way many inside Texas expect, the Longhorns’ performance won’t just be about winning—it will be about redefining the hierarchy of college football power. For years, the conversation about elite programs has revolved around the likes of Alabama, Georgia, Clemson, and Ohio State. Texas has long been in the conversation but always on the edge, always with the caveat of “if they can put it together.” Now, with elite play and a locker room that thrives on quiet confidence, the Longhorns are poised to eliminate that caveat. They don’t just want to be in the conversation; they want to own it. They want to prove that their culture, talent, and mentality are enough to not only beat storied programs but to make them question their place at the table. And when that happens, it won’t just be about players walking off the field victorious—it will be about fan bases being forced to confront a new reality.
For Ohio State fans, that reality may be hard to swallow. It’s one thing to lose a game; it’s another to feel like your identity as a dominant force is being stripped away by a program you once mocked. That’s why the phrase “crushing the ego” fits so perfectly here. Texas doesn’t just want to win—they want to break the illusion that past success guarantees current relevance. They want to show Ohio State fans that college football is about the now, not the nostalgia. The Longhorns’ rise is a reminder that the sport is dynamic, and teams that fail to evolve will be left behind.
Of course, this doesn’t mean Ohio State isn’t talented or dangerous—they always are. But the difference is in the mentality. When a team like Texas carries themselves with authentic confidence, when they’ve backed it up with elite play, and when they no longer feel the need to prove anything to critics, that’s when they become unstoppable. That’s when their opponents, no matter how proud or historically dominant, begin to feel doubt. And doubt is the one thing no fan base, no matter how big, can hide from when it shows up on the field.
This season has the potential to be a turning point for Texas. If they deliver the kind of performance that many insiders believe they will, the ripple effect across the college football landscape will be massive. Recruits will notice. Analysts will recalibrate. Fans will be forced to rethink their narratives. And most importantly, the Longhorns themselves will solidify their identity as not just contenders but as champions-in-waiting. Stevens’ “No bulls**t” message captures that perfectly: this is a team that knows who they are, knows what they’re capable of, and doesn’t need anyone else to validate it.
The beauty of college football is that it thrives on these storylines, these rivalries, and these emotional stakes. And in this case, the stakes are about more than wins and losses; they’re about pride, identity, and ego. Texas is coming into this battle not just with talent but with purpose. They’re not here to prove the past wrong—they’re here to prove the present right. That’s a dangerous combination, and one that Ohio State fans may soon have to come to terms with.
Now, I’d love to hear what you think. Do you believe Texas has truly reached that elite level capable of crushing the ego of a fan base as proud as Ohio State’s? Or do you think history and tradition still hold weight in a matchup like this? Share your thoughts below—I want to know where you stand on this shifting balance of power in college football.
