Were You Thinking This New Offense Was The Air Dink And Dunk For A Minute?

Tramell Jones (9) helped himself on soft touches and deep throws (Chris Spears photo)

Not so fast! It took a minute or two to reveal itself but this Gator team looks to be on track and possibly emerging.

They called it the Orange and Blue Game, but for the first quarter and a half, it could’ve been mistaken for a meeting of the Dink & Dunk Society. If there’s such a thing as the “Air Dink and Dunk” offense, well, Buster Faulkner looked briefly like he might be a new disciple — but that’s wrong as we would find out.

For a moment, I thought the Gators had traded in their Air Raid manuals for the Pamphlet of Prudence — all screens, checkdowns, and just enough three-yard outs to make Danny Wuerffel roll his eyes from the press box.

Then, mercifully, something resembling an offense unclogged itself. It took a third of the game to get the wraps off, but when they did — pop! — the ball started flying, the offense started breathing and the 47,000 fans in attendance finally exhaled. A little air got back into the Air Raid.

I know, I know — football’s a game of inches. But I didn’t realize that meant every down.

Maybe I expected too much, but the first quarter and a half looked like two hours of dress rehearsal at a marching band show. New coaches, new players, new hopes — all fair, all understandable. But even with “reasonable expectations,” I wanted to see a spark. By halftime, we got a few — enough to stir even the most cynical old Gator in the stands.

Receivers? Promising. Quarterback play? Competitive and capable — both Aaron Philo and Tramell Jones showed flashes. Running back Jadan Baugh? Still the brightest bulb in that backfield box. Defense? Well, let’s file that under “developing storyline,” but there’s promise if you squint a little.

Somewhere along the way, somebody in charge started acting like, well, he was in charge. And that starts with Jon Sumrall. The man’s got presence — that unmistakable “I just cleaned out the junk drawer” energy. He’s made it clear this is his program now, and he’s not shy about it.

When Sumrall says, “It’s not whether we’ll win — it’s when,” I’m inclined to believe him. (After all, that’s about as much swagger as you can fit into one sentence without channeling Spurrier.)

And speaking of Spurrier — somewhere out there, the Head Ball Coach smiled when he saw Philo hit VB3 on a rope, followed by Jones tossing a 75-yard strike to Micah Mays that finally put a little snap, crackle, and pop back into this Rice Krispie offense.

Just like that, Hallelujah! No need for Spurrier to hang his visor in shame.

By the game’s conclusion, the Gators somehow had more points than the scoreboard could count — 80, 90, maybe 45 for each team depending on which alumni scoring system you tried to decipher. At that point, I quit trying to figure out who was Orange and who was Blue and just started enjoying myself.

One name worth mentioning: Aidan Warner. Once a forgotten walk-on, the kid reappeared like a ghost from spring games past — calm, commanding, authoritative. The kind of quarterback who doesn’t need a nameplate to earn your attention.

So here we are again — New Era No. 17 (or is it 18?) in Gatorland. Sumrall clocked out at Tulane, clocked in at Florida, assembled his staff, and addressed his new locker room with a simple truth: Roughly half the team is brand new. And with the revolving door of NIL and the portal, that’s about par for the course these days.

We’ve seen this movie before, sure — but maybe this time the ending’s different.

Patience, Gator faithful, patience.

Or as Sumrall might say, it’s not a matter of if winning Florida football will return … but WHEN.