“I gave my all and did whatever I could to help this team win,” said Schmid, who starred in high school for The Woodlands and totaled 263 offensive yards and three TDs on Sunday. “Everybody came together, and we did this as a team all year long. I’m just thankful to be a part of this team.”
Sam Houston had already endured a delayed, changed and surreal season. The daily chaos that COVID-19 still represents. A snowstorm in southeast Texas. Doing its own team laundry. Practicing, preparing and sticking together without a real locker room while a fieldhouse was being renovated and a future conference change loomed.
Oh yeah: In the FCS playoff semifinals, the Bearkats overcame a 21-point halftime deficit just to make it to the final stage.
I can write about what Sam Houston has been through this season. But it’s impossible to truly understand what the Bearkats have withstood and overcome, together, without actually being a Bearkat.
Throw in a last-minute national championship victory, and this surreal but electric 2020-21 campaign will last forever in program history.
“We kind of embraced it,” Keeler said. “We said, you know, to win a national championship — this isn’t basketball. You’re not playing indoors. It’s not climate controlled. You need to go through so many different things in a football game, in a football season, and this is just one of them we’re going to go through. If we truly are the best team in the country, bring it on.”
There were multiple moments in the final minutes when it felt like the Bearkats’ season would finally end with pain, 200 miles from Huntsville, inside a soccer stadium.
So close to the dream.
So near.
But so far away from a championship, with the 6-1, 180-pound Schmid limping again and the final yards failing to appear.
“Every time you had a COVID test, you just crossed your fingers,” Keeler said. “So it’s been an emotionally draining year, physically draining year.”
The initial 21 minutes of on-field action were a sloppy, rain-filled mess.
Five fumbles (one lost), just 14 total points, a combined 1-of-8 on third down and 0-of-2 on fourth down, seven penalties, and more rushing yards than passing yards.
Lightning punctuated the rain and interrupted a national TV broadcast.
Video boards read: “Please head to the nearest exit and seek shelter in your vehicles.”
The rain finally stopped. Blue, orange, yellow and white refilled the stands. Sunlight even broke through the hovering gray clouds.
As Sam Houston flags waved and orange-drenched bodies kept bouncing in the crowd, Schmid kept finding and connecting with trusted wide receiver Jequez Ezzard.
Schmid kept playing through hits and breaking free from tackles, gradually moving his Bearkats forward.
Schmid had a national title to win for Sam Houston, during a season that will be remembered for decades.
Was it really that bad?
That weird?
That crazy?
It was.
But life kept going, football kept being played — even with some screaming the season should be canceled or would never happen — and a lasting championship was won.
Because one team was stronger than every other team.
Because one player wanted and needed that final touchdown so badly and his team followed his lead.
Sam Houston won it all Sunday in the rain and lightning.
Because Schmid cared so much about his Bearkats.
“I’m just going to remember how we battled,” Schmid said. “The stuff that we went through all year. I’m just grateful that we made it to this point, and I’ll remember every week that we had.”