To the Texas Brotherhood

Everybody knows my mindset. I’m a simple guy. 

When I’m lined up in the backfield — no matter what the situation or how high the stakes are — my mind is usually pretty clear. I’m only ever thinking about three things: 

My alignment. My assignment. Executing the play. 

I’ve been playing football my entire life, so whenever I’m on the field, there’s never any fear or hesitation. I just feel like I’m where I belong. 

That was the case last August when I lined up to take a random snap during a preseason practice, and my whole life changed in a split-second.

Honestly, at that moment, I was probably as confident as I’d ever been playing football. I came to Texas as the No. 1 running back in the nation out of high school. I learned the ropes from future NFL draft picks. And now, this season was going to be my turn. I was ready to be the next great Longhorns running back.

When I got the ball, I hit the left B-gap, same as I have literally thousands of times throughout my life. But when I got tackled, I knew something was wrong. And it wasn’t the pain that scared me — I don’t even remember the pain that much. 

It was the sound.

A pop. 

I’d heard about “the pop” many times — the sound a ligament makes when it snaps — but had never experienced it myself. 

I knew right away that all of the plans I had before I was handed the ball were out the window. 

One moment, I felt ready to take on the world. But as soon as I heard that sound — that pop — all I felt was fear. 

If the sound wasn’t enough of a hint, I knew things were bad when Coach Sark stopped practice. You have to understand, this program runs like a well-oiled machine. Every minute of practice is used up with specific intention — and nothing stops that, not even injuries. 

As a million thoughts went through my head, I heard one voice clearly — Coach Choice’s.

“Breathe. Just breathe. It’s going to be OK.”

I’ve never wanted to believe something so badly in my life. 

Coach Choice was a big reason I decided to move away from Florida and attend UT. 

I’d been recruited since I was in 9th grade and had heard just about every pitch imaginable from different coaches. They are nice for stroking your ego, but my mom raised me to value genuineness over everything. And there was no other coach my family connected with on a genuine human level better than Coach Choice. His general approach to life and football is something that I immediately wanted to emulate. He’d played in college and the NFL, but that wasn’t what stuck out with me. I could tell he really cared about developing his players as people, and that really influenced my recruitment. 

And I mean, my visits to Austin didn’t hurt either. 

Bijan Robinson was there for all of my visits to the school, and one of the things I admired most was watching how he operated as a person. He was the best player on the team (maybe just the best football player ever?), a surefire first round pick — and he was also everyone’s favorite person to be around. Walking around campus, he always had a smile for you no matter who you were — not just for other players but literally every person he encountered. 

That was my first exposure to Texas’s culture, but it wasn’t until I enrolled my freshman year that I was given The Blueprint. 

I don’t think that’s the official term, but it’s the only name that fits. One day during lunch, Jordan Whittington — Whitt — sat down with me for a talk. He’s another player I looked up to — a Five-star recruit who battled through injuries and is now playing out there on Sundays. When I first came to Texas, Whitt let me take the number 4 from him so I could honor my cousin Greg Bryant — a great running back himself at Notre Dame, who tragically passed away a couple of years ago. We’ve always been cool since then. 

What Whitt broke down for me was essentially all of the things that usually go unspoken, but that make the difference between a team competing for a national championship and missing a bowl game entirely. He’d experienced both sides of it since he’d been at Texas. He told me from the jump what I did in high school didn’t matter anymore. Everybody at Texas balled out in high school — that’s why they’re a Longhorn. For a lot of players, it means sitting on the bench for the first time in your life. Lesson 1: Don’t complain and poison the locker room. Earn your spot on the depth chart. That ego hit can ultimately be too much for some guys. And if it is? There’s the door. 

Beyond that, as a Texas football player, the person you are matters. Lesson 2: You have a huge microscope on you all the time, and how you act around others leaves an impression. If how you represent yourself and the team doesn’t mean anything to you? There’s the door.

There were more lessons to come. It was lessons on lessons, every day. 

But I think of all the things Whitt told me, the most impactful aspect of the blueprint was that it was another player delivering the message. Of course you never want to disappoint the fans or your coaches. But what elevates a team to the next level is when all of the players go all-out and sacrifice for each other. Not worrying about the outside noise, or the haters, because you already hold each other to the highest standard possible. 

The difference in these past few years came down to a change in culture. Of course, everybody in college football talks about “culture.” But are they walking the walk? Are they backing it up on tape? 

Everything Whitt told me during lunch that day was perfectly encapsulated by one play last season against TCU. 

You can check it out here. 

It was early in the game against a team we’d struggled with in recent years, and Quinn threw a pick. It’s the type of mistake that might have snowballed into other mistakes in past years. But on this play, Whitt decided that wasn’t happening. 

He hustled back and tackled the defender returning the pick, and he ended up causing a fumble that Xavier Worthy recovered. 

Lesson 3: Never quit on a play. Never quit on anything. 

That play is everything — sick athleticism, unreal effort and just having your teammates’ back. When two of the best players — not just on the team but in the entire country — are going that hard, what’s your excuse? 

The next deep ball Quinn threw was a perfect pass to Xavier, and we won that game. 

If you want to know what makes a winning team, there’s your blueprint. 

When I was named a team captain heading into this season, I took to heart what that really meant. 

Maintaining a winning culture, laying out the blueprint for the new guys coming in, that was on me now. And I was so excited about it. 

Until I heard that pop. When that happened, I was just filled with fear. 

By the time I made it back to my locker to let my parents know I was hurt, my phone had more messages on it than I’d ever seen before. It was clear news travels fast in Texas, even when you’re just at practice, and by now pretty much the whole state knew about it. 

One of the very first people who hit me up was Jonathan Brooks. We became really close when we shared the backfield last year, and he also happened to suffer a season-ending injury. So if anybody in the world understood how I was feeling, it was him. He told me I had a right to feel mad and frustrated — and also that it was important to let myself feel those emotions rather than bottle them up. 

I think all the attention kind of took my mind off of what happened because I was interacting with so many people. It was in the days and weeks later, after my surgery, when the messages kind of died down and I had a lot of time to myself, that I think the weight of everything hit. It’s a crazy thing to go from being a starting running back to having to learn how to walk and run again at age 19.

There were a lot of days early on during rehab that it was tough to get out of bed. Both physically tough, but also mentally draining. Because playing running back, that was always something that came completely natural to me. Now I’m literally back at square one — doing these exercises moving my leg with the goal of increasing the range of motion just a few centimeters. That wasn’t natural at all. That was just pain. 

I think the biggest thought that consumed me was, “What if I’m not the same player?” 

One day in the facility, when I was doing my rehab, I got approached by Coach Gideon — our secondary coach. He’s a Texas Ex himself and always has an upbeat message. He recommended that I read this story in the bible, the Book of Job. 

It’s the story of a man who is given the ultimate test of faith. He has everything he values stripped from him: Friends, family, material wealth — I mean everything. Despite having all of these things stripped away, Job maintains his faith — the only thing that couldn’t be taken from him. 

It definitely hit me in a certain kind of way, at a time when I really needed it. Sometimes there isn’t a good explanation for why bad things happen, but what’s in your control is how you react. Even when your body is hurt, you can always lean on your faith. 

I’ve tried my best to look at my injury through the most positive lens that I can.

All of my goals in life are still very much ahead of me. Next season, I know that I can still be the best running back in the country. I can still be drafted to play in the NFL and play alongside Jonathan, Bijan, Roschon and all the other amazing running backs this school has produced. And I’m going to be able to approach it all from a place of gratitude. Just loving football more than I ever have before — because I know what it’s like have it taken away.

But right now, my goal is to be the best teammate I’ve ever been. Because even if I can’t be out there on the field against A&M, I know my voice holds weight. Whether it’s giving advice to the younger players or just keeping a positive vibe when things are tense, there’s power in taking ownership of the ways you’re able to contribute to the culture — even when you’re hurting. 

I’m so excited to watch my guys do their thing on Saturday. 

There’s a phrase that gets tossed around the building a lot….

“Culture + Talent = Dangerous” 

This school has always had the talent part down. Anyone who’s ever been to Austin understands why talented people kind of naturally want to be here. But now that we have a culture to match it, I mean, that’s just really, really bad news for every other team in the nation. 

We are back to where we belong. Playing for all the marbles. 

The Blueprint is there. 

Now it’s time to execute. 

Go out there and get one for your brother.

Sincerely, 

CJ