I know many of you reading this title are thinking to yourself, “did Joshy have a stroke towards the end of coming up with the title?”

The short answer is not yet, though I know all the haters wish it, I’m still here.

If you know me at all, you know that I have defended my dear Quinn vociferously (SAT word) for the past three years. Obviously, the defense of Quinn was most stout this year due to the fact that the wonder boy and potential next face of college football was his backup.

If you know me well, you also know that I enjoy sitcoms. I love television that’s light and doesn’t make you think that hard or puts you in an emotional blender at all points (I’m looking at you “This is Us.”)

Therefore, sitcoms are my desired choice for my television consumption. The best sitcoms though are the ones that can tug at your heartstrings, and make you feel something. Sure, the openings in “The Office” are hilarious, but everyone truly remembers when !!!! SPOILERS INCOMING !!!!

• Jim and Pam share their first kiss

• Jim and Pam get pregnant

• Michael leaves

• Dwight and Angela finally get together

• Jim says he can’t be Dwight’s best man and that’s how Michael comes back

The list goes on and on.

I can say the same thing for the Mount Rushmore of Sitcoms: 30 Rock, Parks and Rec, Modern Family, etc. One sitcom on Mount Rushmore (my Mount Rushmore has more than 4, okay, just suspend reality) that does an excellent job of telling a light-hearted story while also delivering emotional moments was “How I Met Your Mother (‘HIMYM.’)” HIMYM was excellent at getting across comedic jokes and timing while also delivering some of the best emotional payoffs (and gut punches).

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE BEAR WITH ME, THE SPORTS TALK IS COMING.

In the last season of HIMYM, Ted (main character) is somehow at the wedding of his former girlfriend Victoria and Klaus, Victoria’s then fiancé (fiancée is a woman who is engaged, fiancé is a man – you’re welcome). Ted and Klaus are talking about Victoria because Klaus reveals that he doesn’t want to marry Victoria because Victoria is not his “LebenslangerSchicksalsschatz,” but rather, a “Beinahe-Leidenschaftsgegenstand.”

Klaus explains that a “Beinahe-Leidenschaftsgegenstand” is the thing you almost want, but just not quite, while the  “Lebenslanger Schicksalsschatz” is the instantaneous thing you know without a doubt.

Now for the analogy: Quinn Ewers was excellent or in Klaus’s words “wunderbar.” Quinn was 27-8 as a starter for UT (I now work with Tennessee folks, we can have the “UT” argument later), held the best winning percentage since Colt McCoy, was the SEC second-team QB, led UT to back-to-back semifinals in the playoffs, won the Big 12, was SEC Runner-Up, 2-1 against OU, 1-0 against A&M, and won the Peach Bowl.

Quinn was the most decorated and best (sorry Sam) Texas QB in the last 15 years. Quinn was THE fresh breath of air for this sorry bastard who was unfortunate enough to go to UT when Charlie Strong and Tom Herman led our program.

Quinn is a Longhorn Legend… but, as a program who, now out of the dark ages, competes with Ohio State, Georgia, Alabama, etc. (I am not going to add Oregon until Dan Lanning wins a playoff game), you have to be led by an elite QB. Quinn was great, but he was not elite.

Quinn is the Beinahe-Leidenschaftsgegenstand, the thing that’s so close, but not quite.

That’s evident by the fact that both semi-final games were decided at the end of the game. Four plays to get six against Washington, the last throw to Adonai Mitchell in the endzone (Jabbar Muhammad committed PI, I don’t care what anyone says), had it been perfect, would have resulted in six.

On the third down in the endzone against Ohio State when he was just a bit outside (RIP Bob Uecker) to Ryan Wingo (also a questionable missed PI). Had that throw been perfect, Ryan Wingo would have had 6, and Texas’s defense would have shut Will Howard down for one last drive, and then kicked the game-winning field goal (shout out new co-worker Cole Thompson for his prediction Burt would have made the game-winning FG).

Even before the missed Wingo throw, earlier in the fourth quarter, Quinn missed a wide-open Matthew Golden that would have resulted in a first down. That missed throw ultimately led to an Ohio State touchdown in the next drive.

Again, I am being picky. I know I’m being picky. But when you do an autopsy of a season, neigh, a career, I think that’s kind of how it works. You think about what could have been, but not what was. You visualize the pinnacle when you don’t reach it.

We do it in everyday life: what if I had talked to that girl (or boy), what if I said X instead of Y, what if I put more effort into this task? The list goes on. It’s human nature, the power of hindsight. A God-Given gift and curse: you are able to learn so that the next time you’re confronted with a similar situation, you take a different action, but that doesn’t mean the mistake you made doesn’t haunt you. But that haunting is what drives you to not make that mistake again.

Obviously, I’m not calling Quinn a mistake. Far from it – he’s a gift. He didn’t have to come to Texas to bless us. We were a trainwreck. After the Casey Thompson and Hudson Card fiasco, no one in their right mind should have come to Texas. Quinn did. He saved Austin’s football program from looking like the one in Lincon, Nebraska. I will forever be grateful for him and what he’s done for this program. However, that doesn’t mean that it was perfect – it never was. Nor should we expect perfection, that’s absurd. I truly believe that Quinn was the better QB this year – Sark believed it too. Ultimately though, that was the difference. Those couple of inches – which is how great football is decided – where what mattered.

Those were the differences between the Final Four and the National Championship. The “almost” but “not quite.”

That’s how Quinn Ewers, for better or for worse, will be remembered: the “almost” but “not quite.” UT's Beinahe-Leidenschaftsgegenstand.