The Oregon Machine Needs Retooling

For all the tradition-soaked mythology that surrounds Alabama football, and for all the star-studded invincibility that seemed to define the USC teams of the mid-2000s, nothing in the past 20 years of college football has been as captivating as The Oregon Machine.

There's something almost hypnotizing about the Ducks' fast-break offense. It's chaotic but orderly, a video-game attack brought to life, one in which touchdown production feels nearly scientific. Oregon has been a point-producing powerhouse since 2009, enjoying an unprecedented string of success that has included two national championship game appearances and three BCS bowl games. As such, it's hardly unreasonable to think that the program's 62-20 home loss to Utah on Saturday night will be the most shocking result we'll see this season.

What happened? Essentially, Oregon got Oregon'd. Usually, it's the Ducks who score in demoralizing bunches, regularly rattling off double-digit point outbursts in a matter of minutes. On Saturday, Utah dominated the game with an offensive explosion and the highlight plays we usually see from Oregon.

The Machine malfunctioned, broke down so badly, in fact, that Oregon fans and observers are wondering if it reflects deeper problems. Here's John Canzano of The Oregonian:

Make no mistake. Something ended, officially on Saturday. Maybe it was done the minute Marcus Mariota left. Maybe the Heisman winner was so gifted he hid Oregon's growing warts from the world for the last few seasons. Maybe Mariota, most of all, saw this coming and could have called it from his seat in the NFL …

An era of Oregon football ended Saturday.

Did it? Yes and no. On one hand, hyperbolic hand-wringing after a big loss isn't a sign that the Oregon Machine is kaput for good—it's an indication that the Ducks have been so good, for so long, that a single lousy game is considered an existential crisis. (In this regard, Oregon really has caught up to the likes of Alabama).

Overreacting to Utah's dominance ignores Oregon's ongoing structural advantages, how the Machine became the Machine in the first place. Money talks in college football, and the Ducks—thanks to school commitment and the extreme generosity of Nike and Phil Knight—are perhaps the best example that any program can be good if someone pays enough for it. Oregon still has the best facilities in college football and still has all the means necessary to recruit national title-level talent. The Machine malfunctioned; it didn't explode.

That said, Saturday's loss does require reflection and reassessment. Oregon's offense is not the unsolvable problem that it once was. The Ducks' defense is not the fast, swarming group that it has been in the school's best seasons. Coach Mark Helfrich would probably point out that the law of averages is catching up to his program—you're bound to have an off year every once in awhile—and that Oregon is without Mariota, its Heisman-winning quarterback from last season.

Speaking of statistics: in the past, the Ducks sought out every possible analytic advantage. They changed the speed of their offense, spread out the entire field and took opposing defenders out of the game with an offense that was unlike any other. Oregon was different, and different was good. Only now, the rest of the country is starting to catch up. Football is a game of constant, copycat evolution: yesterday's game-breaking innovation is today's standard operating procedure. As Utah demonstrated, if you give Oregon a taste of its own medicine in a down year, you have a chance to do something special.

The Ducks need to tweak their algorithm. For the first time in a long time, quarterback is not a strength for Oregon, and it may not be for the next few years. Vernon Adams and Jeff Lockie figure to share snaps this season, with Lockie taking over full-time next year. Neither of these players are Mariota—far from it. As a result, Helfrich's toughest challenge—perhaps Oregon's toughest challenge since 2009—will be finding a way to keep his offense efficient while minimizing the importance of the quarterback, just like former Oregon coach Chip Kelly preaches in the NFL.

That's a daunting task, but it's necessary if Oregon is to be Oregon again. And coming from the program that wrote the book on football innovation, it certainly seems possible—even if nobody in Eugene appears quite sure how to do it just yet.

The Machine isn't dead. But it needs retooling.