Sooner fans had barely begun to calm their nerves from the last high-profile recruiting loss when the latest blow struck. A promising four-star recruit, once seen grinning in crimson and cream, has flipped his commitment to Texas. Despite Oklahoma’s best efforts—including a reported NIL offer—he chose to wear burnt orange. For fans already navigating the turbulent waters of college football’s new era, it wasn’t just disappointing. It was infuriating. This wasn’t just any recruit. He was from Oklahoma territory, heavily recruited by the Sooners, and widely assumed to be leaning toward Norman. The commitment seemed solid. Pictures circulated of him wearing OU gear. The fanbase rallied behind him. And then came the announcement—he was headed to Austin. The sting of betrayal was sharp, not just because of the flip, but because of the destination. The Texas Longhorns, Oklahoma’s fiercest rival, had again pulled off a stunning recruiting victory. That made it personal.
Oklahoma had been confident in their NIL offer. Since the introduction of NIL into college football, schools have scrambled to put together competitive packages that would entice recruits and transfers alike. For many programs, including Oklahoma, this has meant building collectives, uniting boosters, and trying to play financial catch-up with schools like Texas, which benefits from a much larger donor base and a booming economy. Barry Switzer, legendary OU coach, has even been outspoken on the issue, admitting that Oklahoma simply can’t raise money the way Texas can. With Texas boasting a population of over 35 million, and Oklahoma a fraction of that, the financial leverage is simply different. Switzer helped launch the 1Oklahoma NIL Collective this spring, promising up to \$50,000 per player annually. It was a promising development, and fans hailed it as the kind of move that could help OU compete in the NIL landscape. But just months later, the news of another top recruit leaving for Texas—despite Oklahoma putting real money on the table—makes it clear that the gap isn’t closing quickly enough.
Fan forums, message boards, and social media lit up with disbelief and anger. Many didn’t blame the recruit—at least not directly. Instead, they turned their frustration toward the program’s NIL shortcomings. Comments poured in about OU being “behind the times,” “too slow,” and “too cheap” to compete in the new age of college football. Some fans even questioned whether their contributions to NIL collectives were making any impact at all. The collective optimism that had surrounded Switzer’s 1Oklahoma initiative now seemed to be dissipating into cynicism and doubt. This is not the first time in recent months that Oklahoma has lost a recruit to a rival program, but the consistency with which it’s happening now is what’s causing alarm. A pattern is forming. Oklahoma builds strong relationships, offers competitive NIL deals, but ultimately falls short when programs like Texas or Florida State enter the picture with deeper pockets and flashier promises. Each lost recruit is a blow to the roster, yes, but also to morale. The Sooners faithful are starting to feel like they’re watching their legacy erode one signing day at a time.
In the past, Oklahoma could rely on tradition, on a rich winning history, and on the unique pride of playing in Norman. But college football has changed. Players today are savvier, more business-minded, and understandably drawn to programs that can offer them not just a chance to play on Saturdays, but a financial runway that can stretch into the six figures before they ever enter the NFL. Texas, with its powerful collectives and unified donor class, is at the forefront of this transformation. Oklahoma, by contrast, seems to be playing a more fragmented game. While efforts are being made to coordinate NIL funding and create a more consistent offer structure, the results have not been encouraging. For many fans, this recent flip to Texas was a wake-up call. It wasn’t just about losing a player. It was about falling behind in a race that no longer rewards tradition alone. In today’s climate, relationships with recruits are only part of the equation. The financial package matters—sometimes more than anything else.
This four-star recruit’s decision is a reflection of the current hierarchy in the NIL era. Texas doesn’t just win on the field or in recruiting rooms; they win in boardrooms, with business leaders, alumni, and former players contributing to NIL funds that give the Longhorns a competitive edge. Their collectives are well-organized, well-funded, and aggressive. They identify targets and make it clear that Texas isn’t coming in second. Oklahoma, for all its football prestige, isn’t keeping up. And it’s not just about football either. The implications stretch across multiple sports, with NIL becoming a tool to build entire athletic departments, not just position rooms. When Oklahoma loses a high-profile commitment, it doesn’t just hurt their depth chart—it signals to other recruits that maybe OU can’t deliver the same opportunities.
This perception is dangerous. In recruiting, momentum is everything. A few key flips or commitments can turn a class from average to elite. Conversely, a string of losses can snowball into something far worse—coaches scrambling to fill spots, late-cycle desperation offers, and classes that don’t live up to the program’s standards. That’s what fans are starting to worry about. If players don’t believe Oklahoma can match Texas financially, they might not even give the Sooners serious consideration. And if this cycle continues, it will take more than just NIL restructuring to fix it. Oklahoma’s response to this flip has been muted. Coaches can’t publicly comment on specific recruits, and collectives often operate in a legal gray area when discussing offers. But the silence is noticeable. Fans are left to speculate, and many are drawing conclusions that point to a larger failure in strategy.
Some are urging a complete overhaul of OU’s NIL approach—more transparency, more urgency, and above all, more money. They argue that the program needs to engage big donors directly, provide consistent and substantial offers, and stop assuming that OU’s history will be enough to close the deal. Others believe that the school needs to get aggressive politically, lobbying for more favorable NIL legislation in Oklahoma that can help them compete with the freedom programs in Texas and Florida have. Whatever the solution, the problem is immediate and growing. The emotional reaction from the fanbase isn’t just frustration. It’s fear. Fear that Oklahoma is slipping out of the upper echelon of college football. Fear that Texas, long considered a sleeping giant, has finally awakened—and is coming for OU’s turf. Losing a single recruit is manageable. Losing a trend of them is program-altering.
What hurts the most for fans is the sense that this all could have been avoided. This recruit wore OU colors. He said the right things. The fanbase embraced him. And then, just like that, he was gone. Flipping to the one school that cuts deepest. Fans feel betrayed—not just by the recruit, but by the system. And by the uncomfortable realization that passion, history, and tradition are no longer enough. This is the new normal. College football is now professionalized in every way but name, and programs that don’t adjust will be left behind. Oklahoma is at a crossroads. It must decide whether to accept the realities of NIL and compete head-on with schools like Texas or risk becoming a second-tier program in the new SEC landscape. For now, the anger is loud, the disappointment fresh, and the anxiety real.
The photos of that four-star recruit in crimson and cream now feel like relics. What once looked like a promise now feels like a reminder—of what could have been, and of what must change if Oklahoma wants to remain a powerhouse. Fans won’t forget this flip. They can’t afford to. Because unless something shifts quickly, it won’t be the last.
