Keller Chryst takes the snap under center, pitches left to McCaffrey. McCaffrey runs on a designed cutback right, with Chryst leading the way. Chryst trucks a defender and seals another, as McCaffrey rushes downfield and is forced out of bounds at the Arizona 16 after a gain of 25.

They called him conservative. They called him old-school, stubborn, emotionless and deadpanned. And to be honest, they weren’t entirely wrong. But that was then, and this is now. That was the old, and this is the new. That was David Shaw 1.0, and this is David Shaw 2.0.

The scene was a mid-September evening in front of a quiet, frustrated, half-empty crowd, long after half the country had called it a night. Simply put, this wasn’t the scene in which you would expect a hero to be born — this wasn’t William Wallace in front of the Scottish Army, or Herb Brooks in the locker room in 1980. But it happened, nonetheless. In this simple moment, on this simple play, a new man emerged. Hogan to Sanders to Hogan to Rector, and thus launched David Shaw 2.0. However, just as Herb Brooks’ speech is insignificant without Mike Eruzione’s game-winning goal, so too would this one play be merely a footnote if it weren’t for what followed. Over the course of the last few games, we’ve seen it all. Who thinks to bring in their backup quarterback as a lead blocker to pancake a defender en route to a big gain? Who thinks to hand the ball off to a jet-sweeping Christian McCaffrey to run an option right with the trailing Bryce Love? Who runs a brilliant screen pass to Bryce Love and follows it up with the exact same action, only to fake the screen and instead throw a screen up the middle to an uncovered Austin Hooper? Who then brings the aforementioned Love into motion, only to fake it to him and throw a screen pass to the backside, letting McCaffrey run free to convert a crucial late third down on the road in Pasadena? Not David Shaw 1.0. No, he brings Bryce Love in motion and throws it to him. He hands the ball off to a jet-sweeping Christian McCaffrey, only to be tackled on the edge by Sua’ Cravens without the threat of the sideways pitch to the trailing Love. The only man who makes these calls is David Shaw 2.0, the offensive mastermind that is your new head coach.

Now, at this point you could stop reading and say that David Shaw, the same David Shaw we’ve always had, has simply reached farther into his (admittedly massive) playbook with the start of conference play. And that might be true, except for the fact that this renaissance expands far beyond the complexities of the offensive playcalling. When Barry Sanders hits a hole, barrels a defender and steamrolls into the endzone, David Shaw 1.0, the old David Shaw, simply stares off into space, providing no hints as to whether his team just scored, the other team just scored or absolutely nothing happened in the expanse of the universe. But not this David Shaw; no, upon seeing his fourth-year running back explode for one of the best runs of his career, David Shaw 2.0 jumps up and down, flailing both arms as an overly-excited 6-year-old celebrating the acquisition of a new family puppy. Heck, he even cracked a smile at the conclusion of his halftime interview with ESPN’s Todd McShay in Pasadena. Gone are the days of poker star David Shaw. Gone are the days in which we wondered whether there was even a beating heart inside of that Nike sweater.

While the evolution of his playcalling and the increased concentration of his excitement-inducing neurotransmitters have been evident, perhaps the greatest difference between old coach and new lies in his handling of his newest team members. While Trent Irwin used to sit on the sidelines singing quietly the lyrics to John Fogerty’s classic song “Centerfield,” he now runs around the field catching critical third–down strikes from Hogan. In fact, the Cardinal has now played nine true freshmen this season. The fact that the freshmen are flooding each week’s participation report is a sign that the Shaw has finally come around and, dare I say, adapted to one of the changing dynamics in college football, driven partially by the increase in fifth-year players transferring for their final seasons of eligibility.

While you might attribute these changes to the normal evolution of any football coach, I would argue that the early morning midwestern loss on Sept. 5 has forever changed David Shaw — in fact, it has changed him so drastically that it is only reasonable to consider him a different man altogether. If you still don’t agree with me — just go along with it. It’s just too perfect that the renewal of this football coach is most appropriately evidenced by a man named Chryst, a man willing to do all the dirty work to help this Cardinal team on the road to its promised land.

Contact William MacFarlane at wtrm0416 ‘at’ stanford.edu.