USC’s season comes down to this

USC at Nebraska: Where the Story Gets Decided in the Trenches 

South Bay Black Journal — by Jason Burrell 

Lincoln Riley’s right about one thing: the season isn’t dead. The Big Ten is a knife fight, the new playoff is weird, and November is allergic to straight lines. None of it matters, though, if USC doesn’t fix the same slow leak, edges, gaps, and finish. That’s scheme and standard. It’s also personnel and posture. 

Now comes Nebraska, where toughness is built, born, and bred. No, these aren’t Tom Osborne’s Cornhuskers. But under Matt Rhule, the program has put its calluses back on. They roll defensive linemen in waves, win time of possession, and squeeze the red zone. For USC, this trip to Lincoln isn’t just another Big Ten clash; it’s a physical litmus test to see if the Trojans learned anything from the beating they took at Notre Dame!

What Lincoln Riley Saw 

When Riley reviewed the Notre Dame tape, he didn’t see a soft team; he saw a disconnected one. “The physicality was honestly about the same as Michigan,” Riley said. “Our issue wasn’t effort. It was assignment-based. We didn’t play in sync. Two guys out of position, wrong gap fits, and good teams make you pay.” That’s been the story of USC’s 2024: flashes of brilliance undercut by lapses in the details. The Trojans can move the ball, but can they move people? Can they stop a downhill run game when the other team isn’t blinking?

 The challenge isn’t new; it’s just much louder in the Big Ten!

Rhule’s Return to Old-School 

Nebraska under Matt Rhule has become everything the conference demands, blunt, physical, and unapologetic. “We’re a team that needs edge,” Rhule said. “If you let up in practice, you lose it. We’re built to strain.”

He’s rebuilt Nebraska’s identity around depth, development, and defense. The Huskers rotate bodies across the line like hockey shifts, and they win with stacking effort, every down, every tackle, every drive! It’s not fancy football. It’s conviction, precision, and unapologetic violence.

Rhule’s staff talks about “earning your way into November.” That means learning how to win when the air is cold, the lights are heavy, and every mistake costs you a season. “You work all year long to be relevant in November,” Rhule said. “You have to win your way in.” That philosophy collides perfectly with USC’s current crisis of identity.

The Real Test:

If you want to be under center on the goal line in November, you have to live under center on Tuesdays in September. Some of this is culture. Toughness isn’t a speech; it’s the dull, repeatable choice to make a play work when the defense guesses right. 

This game won’t be about tempo or creativity. It’ll be about who owns the line of scrimmage, who sets the edge, who finishes tackles, and who gets off the field on third-and-two. You can call it “assignment football,” but Saturday night in Lincoln, it’ll look a lot more like tanks and infantry, 7 on 7 football in shorts and shirts.

The Stakes:

November doesn’t care about style points; it only cares if you can take a punch and swing back with something heavier than a concept. 

The winner in Lincoln keeps its name on the playoff bracket. The loser is out, mathematically and spiritually. Survive, and USC enters the final stretch with purpose. Flinch, and the season folds into “what ifs.” 

This isn’t just another conference matchup. It’s the crossroad game that defines both programs, one rebuilding its physical identity, the other trying to rediscover its soul.