Alright, Coach Prime, Put Down the Sunglasses. It's Time to Talk About the Colorado Clock Fiasco

Look, I get it. We all bought in. We wanted to believe. Deion Sanders rolling into Boulder like a rhinestone cowboy, flipping the bird to tradition, turning a program that was less relevant than a Blockbuster membership into a national spectacle. It was fun. It was chaos. It was... well, it was something.

But after Saturday’s absolute clown show against Georgia Tech, where the Buffaloes decided that using timeouts was a suggestion, not a strategy, it’s time to take off the sunglasses, Coach Prime. The "Prime Time" era, without the literal Prime Time players, is starting to look an awful lot like... just "time." Wasted time, specifically.

The Clock Management Equivalent of a Drunken Squirrel

Down 27-20 with just over a minute left. Two timeouts in your pocket. Ball at your own 25-yard line. This is the exact moment you earn your millions, Coach. This is when the legend is made.

What did we get? A masterclass in how not to manage a football game.

We watched in horrified fascination as the play clock ticked down, then the game clock ticked down. Like a man trying to defuse a bomb with a blindfold on and his hands tied behind his back, Colorado casually meandered through a drive that needed urgency. Play after play, precious seconds melted away. Two timeouts just sitting there, gathering dust like old trophies in a forgotten closet.

It was baffling. It was infuriating. It was the football equivalent of ordering a pizza, watching the delivery guy drive past your house three times, and then shrugging and saying, "Oh well, guess I'm not eating tonight!"

The final "Hail Mary" was less a desperate attempt to win and more a ceremonial waving of the white flag, thrown so late it barely mattered. You can talk about heart, grit, and belief all you want, but you can’t make up for basic, fundamental, Pop Warner-level clock management.

Where Did All the Swagger Go? (And Did it Take the Playbook With It?)

Last year, Colorado was exciting because they had Shedeur Sanders doing Houdini acts and Travis Hunter playing Iron Man on both sides of the ball. They had the talent to overcome questionable coaching decisions. They had the "it" factor.

This year? Without his sons (who are now collecting NFL paychecks), the shine is wearing off faster than a cheap suit. Deion's post-game press conference was pure gold, though. Instead of owning up to the obvious gaffes, he went on the defensive faster than a corner with a holding call.

When asked about the offense, he immediately pivoted to the defense, whining, "It's funny that you start out with [the OC], and we gave up over 300 yards, darn near 400 yards, rushing. It's ironic to me. It seems like you guys just pick and choose who you want to target."

Coach, when you lose because you let a minute and 15 seconds run off the clock without using a timeout on your final drive, everyone is going to target the clock management. It's not a conspiracy; it's just basic football. It's like blaming the kicker when you give up 70 points.

The Sanders Family Group Chat: Peak Reality TV

And then, the cherry on top. We get a peek into the inner sanctum of the Sanders family via a text from Shedeur to the group chat: "As SANDERS MEN we have to regroup."

Oh, to be a fly on the wall in that text thread! Is that a rallying cry, or a subtle jab from the NFL-bound son to his college-coaching dad? "Hey Pop, maybe next time use those timeouts, eh? Just a thought from your boy who's actually scoring touchdowns in the pros."

Look, I’m not saying Deion should get fired after one loss. But this isn’t about winning or losing; it’s about how you lose. It's about coaching acumen. It's about the difference between being a charismatic motivator and being a tactician. Right now, it looks like Coach Prime has charisma in spades, but his game management might still be stuck in a velvet tracksuit from the '90s.

The "Prime Time" show without the stars is just a regular show, and Saturday night's episode was a snooze-fest with a baffling ending. Time to regroup, Coach. And maybe, just maybe, learn how to use a stop-watch.