Iowa State vs. Oklahoma State Preview: Something Special in the Air

An undefeated Oklahoma State team comes into Jack Trice Stadium on Saturday afternoon. We’ve seen this movie before, more than once in fact. And we’ve also seen a lot of other crazy things happen. 

The Iowa State vs. Oklahoma State series over the last 10 years leading into 2021 has been possibly the most memorable series the Cyclones have played. It’s not a full-fledged rivalry, but it has elements that have made it a compelling series since 2011.

The Cyclones are just 2-8 in that timeframe, which has coincided with the last round of conference realignment that resulted in the teams playing every year rather than two of every four years. The series has been anything but ordinary. Its featured thrilling wins on both sides, blown leads, plenty of controversy, one moment that changed the course of ISU football history and one game that changed the course of college football history.

It’s only fitting we start with that last one.

Even the most casual of Iowa State fans remember the warm November evening in 2011 when Oklahoma State came to Jack Trice Stadium undefeated and #2 in the country. It was a rare Friday night game, scheduled that way to fit into ESPN’s television schedule. My friend Chris, his wife Kaci, and I drove up from Des Moines early in the afternoon after getting off work early. On the way, as we tend to do, we talked about the game. “Do we actually have a chance?” seemed to be the topic of conversation. The Cyclones were twenty-seven-and-a-half-point underdogs. I’m a sucker for trying to talk myself into believing Iowa State has a chance in any game it plays. In my heart of hearts, did I really believe the Cyclones could win that game? No. We had literally never seen anything like it. I still tried to talk myself into it, and I remember listening to a talk radio show during the drive. The hosts were talking about the game, and similarly to me were making the case for why Iowa State could win. I don’t remember what my arguments were, or what their arguments were. It doesn’t matter. The seed was planted for me to have just a twinge of hope.

We arrived at the tailgate, and as I recall, most of the rest of the group had been there since around Noon. We were a few hours behind. No matter. Collectively, we, shall I say, hit it hard. If the Cyclones really were going to lose by four touchdowns, this was going to be the highlight of the day.

Normally, especially at that point just a few years removed from being in the band, my goal was to be in the stadium by the time the band took the field for its pregame show. As we were packing up, I heard the first notes. We weren’t going to make it! 

By the time we finished putting our stuff back in the car, walking to the stadium, going through the ticketing area, likely using the restroom, and finally finding our way to our seats in the pre-renovation south endzone, the game was underway. I looked around. The stadium was almost entirely full, a rarity in those days for a November game. Fans had yellow towels, also something that I never remembered happening before. I took in the scene of fans standing, waving their towels, and yelling to encourage the defense. I had sat through my share of games at that point where the atmosphere in the stadium said “we don’t expect to win.” This crowd was different from the get-go. It felt like a big-time atmosphere, and it felt like a crowd that believed our team belonged. It just felt different. 

Iowa State’s head coach that evening, Paul Rhoads, was in his third year at the helm and had pulled off a few unexpected upsets and near-upsets. I can only imagine that fed into the crowd. Maybe tonight. Just maybe.

Oklahoma State’s typically high-powered offense struggled with turnovers that evening and had a tough time getting into its normal rhythm. The Cowboys still jumped out to a 17-7 lead at half. Conventional wisdom said Iowa State probably was not coming back from that, but it was close enough to still have hope. When the Cowboys scored early in the third quarter to go up 24-7, it felt like Oklahoma State was about to pull away. Good effort, Cyclones. You kept it close for awhile. I had sat through a good number of games that the crowd stops believing, and fans begin filing toward the exits in the third quarter, slowly but surely emptying out during every timeout or possession change until only a few thousand (including me) remained when the clock hit triple zeroes. I was convinced this was about to happen… until Jarvis West took the ensuing kickoff fifty yards. OK, we’ll stick around for this drive, people seemed to think. Six plays later, James White ran thirty-two yards to the endzone to cut the lead to 24-14. 

One of the things Iowa State fans loved about the early years of the Rhoads tenure is that he would take chances that other coaches would shy away from. That’s exactly what he did as he sent kicker Grant Mahoney onto the field for a surprise onside kick, recovered by Iowa State. It was one of those moments where the world seems to be in slow motion, as I watched the ball float in the air toward the Iowa State player. I was simultaneously shocked and yet I knew exactly what was about to happen. As he came down with the football, the crowd erupted. For the first time that evening, I really believed the Cyclones could win this game, and the onside kick was a signal to me that they believed they could win this game.  

A lot of the rest of the game was a blur. From that moment on, I somehow knew Iowa State was going to comeback and tie it. Which they did, 24-24 in the fourth quarter. On the broadcast, ESPN announcer Joe Tessitore remarked “Something special is in the air here.” The fans were standing and waving their towels every time Oklahoma State’s offense had the ball. Proving this was a game where there was something special in the air, OSU kicker Quinn Sharp lined up to attempt a thirty-seven-yard field goal with 1:21 remaining. As the kick sailed toward the uprights, my friend Chris yelled “Oh it’s no good!” Sure enough, the refs signaled “no good” as the ISU players celebrated and ran off the field, the crowd around them waving towels and sharing looks of disbelief. It was a questionable call as the kick sailed right over the goalposts, and I do not blame any OSU fan for being sour about it. For as much as bad calls and missed kicks are part of Iowa State football lore, it felt fitting that it went in our favor that evening.

A little while later in the second overtime, Cyclone Ter’Ran Benton intercepted a pass to stop Oklahoma State’s scoring chance. All Iowa State needed to do was score any points on their possession in the second overtime to win. Running back Jeff Woody, a crowd favorite whose name would, after this night, always be remembered by Cyclone fans, took the ball three straight times, and on the third powered his way into the endzone to secure the win. “Come on, let’s get on the field!” I yelled to Chris and Kaci. We headed down toward the gate separating the south endzone stands from the field, which was already open, and joined thousands of others from all corners in rushing the field in celebration. I momentarily let all my emotions out as I ran full speed, screaming “YEEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” at the top of my lungs. I looked around, and in the crowd I seemed to have lost my friends. “Kyle!” Chris yelled from a little way away. Oh thank goodness. 

A little while later, after belting “Sweet Caroline,” we headed up through the concourse. In some of the suite seats, ESPN was on the televisions, showing live scenes from our field. Iowa State football was the story of the evening in the sports world. It felt shocking. 

On the way home, we needed food, so we stopped at a Perkins in Ankeny. I remember seeing some Oklahoma State fans sitting in a booth, and I almost wanted to go console them about their championship season being ruined. When I arrived back at my apartment in Des Moines, I turned on ESPN, and they were showing a replay of the game. I quickly called Chris. “Hey, ESPN is showing a replay. Do you want to come watch?” No hesitation. “Yes, I’ll be there in a minute.” It’s tough to say at what point on that Saturday morning I finally went to sleep.

The game was so unexpected that it was nominated for an ESPY Award in the category of “Best Upset.” It is often credited as being the game that shifted the college football postseason to a four-team playoff. I believe it forever changed the atmosphere in Jack Trice Stadium into a crowd that believed our team could win on any given gameday. Even though Iowa State could never quite capitalize on that game for future seasons during Rhoads’ tenure as coach, I still think it changed the course of Cyclone football long-term in addition to the sport of college football.

It was also the first in what has been a series of bizarre games between these teams.

OSU won comfortably the next two years, but in 2014 an upset-minded Iowa State team entered Stillwater needing a win. Iowa State was 1-3, Oklahoma State was ranked number twenty-one in the country. In Rhoads’ last three seasons, all of which resulted in significantly more losses than wins, the silver lining was that the Cyclones often played with a chip on their shoulder that helped them keep an upset-bid alive. Such was the case on this early October day. The Cyclones played to a first-half 6-6 draw until the Cowboys lined up near the goal-line on the last play of the half. On the play, it was ruled that OSU’s running back was stopped short. Cyclone players celebrated. As is custom, replay officials decided to review the play just to make sure. Watching it over and over on television, I was convinced the outcome was in our favor. I was talking with Chris on the phone, describing what happened. “Yeah, they are reviewing it, but it was definitely a stop. What a big way to get out of the half OH MY GOODNESS ARE YOU KIDDING ME??” Somehow, someway the replay officials felt they had conclusive evidence to overturn the play and give the Cowboys a touchdown. It was made even more deflating when Oklahoma State took the second half kickoff ninety-seven yards for a touchdown, effectively burying Iowa State. 

In 2015, another upset-minded Iowa State team jumped out to a 24-7 lead over another undefeated Cowboys team in November. It started to feel like déjà vu all over again. Could we really ruin their national championship aspirations? Turns out, this wasn’t the Iowa State of 2011. Oklahoma State fought back for a 35-31 win. In 2016, during coach Matt Campbell’s first year, Iowa State lost another big lead. Iowa State grabbed a 31-14 lead late in the third quarter, but another Oklahoma State rally knocked off the Cyclones.

In 2017, the tide started to turn in Iowa State’s football program, but heartbreaking losses to Oklahoma State were still en vogue. Iowa State entered the game with a 6-3 record, having already defeated highly ranked Oklahoma and TCU. By winning out, the Cyclones could still have secured a spot in the Big 12 Championship game. 

I remember a little extra emotion in the stands that day. It was Senior Day, and the first year in awhile that Iowa State was good enough to reach a bowl game. There was plenty to cheer about as Iowa State’s offense racked up four-hundred-and-ninety-one yards and thirty first downs. For each first down, the PA announcer said “That’s another Cyclone…” and fans answered “FIRST DOWN!” as we extended our arm to mimic the signal that referees give to signal a first down. We got to do that thirty times. After awhile, it was almost not fun anymore. Almost. 

The problem was Iowa State’s typically stout defense seemed to have no answer for Oklahoma State’s high-powered offense. A back-and-forth game started to feel special again in the fourth quarter. Joel Lanning, who played as quarterback in a number of games for the Cyclones, transformed himself into a linebacker during his senior year of 2017. A really good linebacker who could also still play quarterback when needed. Lanning’s specialty when he had the ball in his hands — particularly his senior year — was to follow his blockers and use his linebacker-style physique to bulldoze through defenders and try to pick up extra yards. So when they put him in the game on second-and-four, conventional wisdom said it was a running play. Instead, Lanning faked a handoff, dropped back and threw it up to a single-covered Allen Lazard, also a senior, in the endzone. Lazard was well-covered, but the pass was in the right spot. He tipped the ball with his left hand, then let it fall gently into his right hand. All while fighting off the defender and getting his feet down in bounds before giving up his balance and falling backwards to the ground, ball safely clutched in his grasp. The crowd erupted. 

The touchdown gave Iowa State a 35-31 lead, and a touchdown on the Cyclones’ next drive turned it into a 42-34. It felt like our day until OSU scored two touchdowns in succession to regain the lead 49-42 (truly a wild game). Iowa State had one more chance, and drove down deep into OSU territory before facing a fourth-and-thirteen play. As quarterback Zeb Noland threw it to running back David Montgomery short of the first down, I thought game over. There was a defender there, ready to make the play, until… Montgomery made him miss and picked up the first down, making it all the way to the three-yard-line. The crowd was buzzing again. We went from thinking the game was over to having new life. 

Then came a play we still talk about every time the two teams get together. 

On second-and-goal, Noland threw it up to Marchie Murdock, who came down with the ball firmly in his grasp. That is, if you ignored the Oklahoma State defender who was literally between Murdock and the ball. Murdock pinned the ball with his right hand against the defender’s chest, who after a second realized the ball was in his grasp. They came to the ground simultaneously. We were sitting in our usual seats in the third row of the upper deck behind the endzone in the southwest corner of the stadium. From my view, which would have to be considered just about the best view in the stadium on that particular play, it was a catch. I threw my hands in the air, thinking it was a touchdown. So did a number of other fans. Our joy turned to confusion as I looked around. Nobody was sure what to make of what we just saw. The ref signaled nothing. After a few seconds of pause that felt like a few hours, the refs talked it over and signaled that it was an interception. An audible groan passed through the crowd. Surely they’ll overturn this on replay review, I thought. No such luck. Game over. After I got home that day, I watched every replay, scoured Twitter and read through each opinion on the Cyclone Fanatic message board, trying to come to terms with what I witnessed. To this day, I still believe it was a touchdown. I’m pretty sure Murdock does as well. 

In 2018, it was a much better memory. As I watched 1-3 Iowa State take the field in Stillwater, I had a bad feeling. After such a positive 2017 season, I could feel this one slipping away. At the time, my wife Paige was my fiancé, and she went dress shopping while I hung out with my dad and her dad to watch the game at her uncle’s house. The day started off as bad as I feared. Noland, still the quarterback, was sacked on the first play. Iowa State had to punt after a three-and-out possession. Oklahoma State went seventy yards in five plays to take a 7-0 lead. Iowa State went three-and-out again before punting. 

I mentally prepared myself for a blowout. Just be calm, I told myself. You can’t make an idiot out of yourself in front of your future in-laws. The Iowa State defense stepped up and forced a sack of their own back to the seven-yard-line, and then recorded a safety on a botched punt attempt. Then came perhaps the most defining moment in recent Cyclone history.

On the first Saturday of October in 2018, freshman Brock Purdy made his first appearance at quarterback. Purdy immediately led Iowa State seventy-five yards in less than three minutes, capped by a twenty-one-yard pass to Hakeem Butler. On the next possession, he capped a sixty-two-yard drive with a twenty-nine-yard touchdown run. It’s easy to write now, knowing how it turned out, but I think I also knew it at the time: We were seeing something special. There was something different about this kid. This was the start of something. 

Purdy led Iowa State to a win that day and has been the starting quarterback since.

I’d love to end this preview right there, but the 2019 and 2020 games are perfect examples of what worries me about 2021. The 2019 game was at Jack Trice Stadium. Before our game kicked off, we saw that Oklahoma lost to Kansas State. This opened up the Big 12 race, and Iowa State could be in the driver’s seat with a win. Iowa State was undefeated in the last two seasons in October, and had also won its first three October games this year. This was our time to seize control.

Something just never felt right in the game. Iowa State felt out of synch. The crowd felt out of synch. Oklahoma State jumped out to a 21-10 lead with touchdowns of seventy-one, fifty and sixty-five yards. It was a very un-Cyclone-like performance on defense, and fear seeped into the Jack Trice Stadium crowd. It was not the script we had grown accustomed to. Iowa State did fight back to tie the game at twenty-seven before Purdy threw an interception that was returned for a touchdown midway through the fourth quarter to give OSU a 34-27 lead. Purdy then through interceptions on two of Iowa State’s final three possessions to help Oklahoma State seal the win, in what has likely been the most forgettable game of his tenure.

Last year’s game was the one blip in an otherwise perfect regular season in the conference. It wasn’t a bad loss, but it didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. As weird as it sounds, I felt somewhat fortunate that Iowa State didn’t have to play Oklahoma State again in the Big 12 Championship. Since the 2011 upset, other than Purdy’s coming out party, Oklahoma State has either had Iowa State’s number or found bizarre ways to win games. 

This year’s game is an enigma in its own right. Oklahoma State is 6-0 and number eight in the country. And yet, Iowa State is favored to win this game. Advanced analytics seem to love the Cyclones going forward, and the game being at Jack Trice Stadium plays into Iowa State’s favor. It reminds me of a few games Georges Niang and Monte Morris played for the Iowa State men’s basketball team. Top-ranked teams would come into Hilton Coliseum, but I still believed Iowa State was going to win, and it almost always did.

The game has major Big 12 championship race implications. Iowa State has very little margin for error after losing its conference opener to Baylor. I still think the Cyclones could make the championship game with another Big 12 loss, but a loss to Oklahoma State would make significantly less likely. This is a game Iowa State has to win for tiebreaker purposes. 

That said, Saturday will be fun beyond the Big 12 title race. It is homecoming in Ames. The tailgate lots will be rocking. The air will be crisp. The stadium will be full. This is setting up to be the type of day that made me into a college football fan to begin with.  

To borrow the words of ESPN’s announcer Tessitore in 2011, there has been something special in the air almost every time these two teams have played since. I am always waiting for something out of the ordinary, or just plain weird, to happen. I get the feeling this year is destined to be the same. In 2011, I, along with everyone else, was shocked at the outcome of a Cyclone win. An Iowa State win this year wouldn’t surprise me in the least bit.