Steve Sarkisian’s Longhorns came into the big 2025 with the No.1 ranked tag and thinking they were about to run the SEC after stacking up $35-40 worth roster. But fast forward three weeks of Texas football and booing, the Longhorns looked nothing like a pre-season trailer. Look, a 2–1 record isn’t the end of the world in Texas, but when you’re averaging just 24 points a game with this much stacked offense? Obviously, people will turn their heads. Manning’s pigskin throws had analysts like Paul Finebaum and ESPN’s Jordan Rodgers eat their pre-season words.

Look, not everybody sold out or dumped their stock on Arch Manning after that Cotton Bowl rematch with Ryan Day’s Buckeyes in the season opener. Still, Arch looked like a nepo baby getting everything handed to him in that 14–7 loss. He literally got cooked for just 26 passing yards in the entire first half. Then again, some folks pointed out it was Ohio State’s defense run by Matt Patricia, and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

But what came after had the fans booing and throwing digital hands at Arch Manning. Against Conference USA team (UTEP Miners), Arch threw for just 114 yards and missed more than he hit, looking nothing like the Heisman hopeful he was hyped to be. Yes, he bounced back against San Jose State with four touchdowns, but let’s be real—Texas didn’t pay Sark $10.8 million a year to feast on Mountain West defenses.

On September 17, Sark kept it real. Quarterbacking isn’t any type of rocket science—it’s a stopwatch game. “2.5 seconds,” he said. That’s the window Arch Manning gets before the walls close in. Sometimes, the Longhorns o-line buys him a full three, maybe more if they’re bullying the guy across from them. But Sark didn’t dress it up: “If we’re getting 5, 6, 7 seconds, we’ve got one hell of an offensive line. But the average is 2.5 seconds, sometimes 3.”Arch has enough time to cook, but the meals ain’t coming out the kitchen right.

In college football, QBs usually get about 2.7 to 3.0 seconds to sling it from the pocket. The statuesque guys fire closer to 2.5, while mobile QBs stretch plays past 3.0 seconds, compared to the NFL’s quicker 2.5-second average. Arch is living in that 2.6 to 3.1-second bubble, yet those moon balls are not coming out of his cannon the way Texas fans it up all offseason. And it’s not like he’s running for his life every snap—it’s what happens once that pocket timer starts rolling. Too many throws come late, and making simple looks diabolical.

When he got that extra tick against un-ranked San Jose State, he lit it up—295 yards, four scores, and everyone singing his praises. Against Ohio State, he barely had time to make deep passes before defenders were on him. But Arch Manning threw a diabolical 32 yards touchdown pass to Parker Livingstone in the 4th quarter. And against UTEP, the mistakes piled up even with a clean pocket. Arch has hit the turf 6 times in 3 outings, but the sacks aren’t the headline. The bigger story? His rhythm and fatjoe mechanics.

The ugliest part? Texas keeps shooting itself in the foot. Against UTEP, they gift-wrapped 115 yards on 12 flags. Crazy work. You can’t drag your own team backward and expect Arch to shine. The defense? Rock solid—barely giving up double digits per game. Texas’s run game in 2025 has been shaky, averaging about 160 yards a game and 4.7 per carry, but injuries to CJ Baxter and Quintrevion Wisner left the backfield scrambling with untested freshmen.

The O-line hasn’t consistently opened holes, so Arch Manning’s legs have bailed them out, but without a healthy, reliable RB rotation, the Longhorns’ ground attack feels like the soft spot defenses will keep hammering.

Arch Manning problem!

Arch Manning’s early run as QB1 has dropped him into a pressure cooker that doesn’t care about legacy. In three games, Texas ranks near the basement of the SEC in completion percentage. Fifteenth out of sixteen. That’s with two cupcake games on the slate. Sark can joke “could be worse” after sleepwalking past UTEP, but fans didn’t buy season tickets to hear their coach sound like a dad consoling a kid’s Little League slump.

Sark even went full golf dad trying to explain Manning’s busted mechanics. “Some of us here that are bad golfers, think about your golf swing,” he said. “You try to swing hard and then you try to slow it down at the very end to make good contact. That’s never a recipe for success, and that’s not a good recipe for throwing a football, either. And I felt like that happened, at times.”

By Week 3, the talking heads stopped pretending. Paul Finebaum jumped off the bandwagon like it was on fire: “I’m out. Count me out … he’s going to be a great player someday, maybe some year, but not this year. It’s over.” Even Danny Kanell didn’t hold back either, stacking Arch’s meltdown next to big-time NBA busts Markelle Fultz and former Philly’s Ben Simmons—guys who let their heads wreck their shots. And Steve Spurrier? He skipped Arch altogether and fired at Sark’s staff for leaving their golden boy stranded on an island with zero sideline help.