After Loss to Tulsa, Will the Clock Finally Strike Midnight on Mike Gundy at OK State?

Two weeks ago, Oregon hung 69 points on Oklahoma State in Eugene. That was bad enough — a humiliation on national TV that stripped whatever false bravado still clung to a program sleepwalking into irrelevance. Friday night, coming off a bye week, the Cowboys managed to dig deeper. They lost 19–12 at home to Tulsa. Yes, Tulsa.

Not since 1951 had Oklahoma State dropped a home game to the Golden Hurricane. Not since 1998 had they lost to Tulsa at all. And yet here we are, 2025, staring at a box score that reads like a eulogy. Tulsa racked up 424 yards of offense. Quarterback Baylor Hayes completed 23-of-36 passes for 219 yards and a touchdown. Dominic Richardson — the same running back Gundy and staff couldn’t keep in Stillwater — gashed his old program for 146 yards on 31 carries. That’s what it looks like when the transfer portal takes and the other sideline collects the spoils.

A Postgame of Deflection

Afterward, Gundy sat at the podium with his trademark squint, steering every question back to the same well-worn refrain: player mistakes, untimely penalties, breakdowns in execution. He dissected the granular — missed blocks, poor gap fits, mental lapses — while refusing to acknowledge the rot staring him down.

This isn’t about a holding call in the second quarter. It’s about a program whose roster is so barren of Big 12-caliber talent that losing to Tulsa doesn’t feel like an aberration, but an inevitability.

Ask Gundy about roster construction and he pivots to turnovers. Push him on NIL and he shrugs about patience. Bring up job security and he stares past you, nose angled just high enough to remind everyone he still sees himself as the smartest guy in the room.

But Friday night, for the first time, even Gundy’s well-practiced spin couldn’t shield him. By 1 a.m. Saturday morning, his employment in Stillwater was on life support.

NIL, Narratives and the Wrong Enemy

Let’s be clear: Gundy knows the terrain. He’s been hammering the NIL narrative for years now, insisting Oklahoma State can’t compete financially, painting himself as a victim of circumstances rather than an architect of failure. And in a vacuum, he’s not wrong — OSU’s war chest pales compared to Texas, Oklahoma, or even Texas Tech.

But here’s the catch: NIL didn’t make him lose to Tulsa. NIL didn’t cause Oregon to boat-race his team 69–3. NIL didn’t build a roster where a transfer castoff from Stillwater could come back and run for 146 yards in Boone Pickens Stadium. That’s evaluation. That’s development. That’s a head coach either unable or unwilling to adapt.

The new era of college football requires adaptability. Aggressive portal moves. Innovative offensive schemes. Recruiting that isn’t allergic to blue-chip zip codes. Instead, Gundy clings to the stubborn conservatism that once made him an iconoclast but now just makes him outdated.

Once the Architect, Now the Arsonist

This is the cruel irony. Mike Gundy built Oklahoma State football into something worth caring about. He raised the ceiling, modernized facilities, turned Boone Pickens Stadium into a real home field, and dragged the program out of mediocrity.

But the same hubris that once allowed him to build has now burned the foundation down. He believed his way — the Gundy way — could withstand the sport’s tectonic shifts. He believed the Big 12 would always be there for him to rack up 9–10 win seasons against Kansas, Iowa State, and Baylor. He believed his reputation alone would insulate him from criticism.

And so, when the iceberg came into view — NIL, the portal, the SEC and Big Ten arms race — he didn’t alter course. He tightened his grip on the wheel and dared the iceberg to move. It didn’t. Now Oklahoma State is taking on water faster than even he can bail.

Avoiding the Big Picture

Friday’s press conference was almost tragic in its predictability. A man who once owned every room now deflecting like a mid-tier assistant coach. Every question steered back to micro mistakes, never the macro collapse. A deliberate refusal to acknowledge that the walls are closing in.

“Do you think you’ll last the weekend?” one reporter finally asked. Gundy’s response was telling: the length of his employment was no longer a question he could answer. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t crack a joke. He didn’t bark back. He simply admitted, without saying the words, that his fate rests in someone else’s hands.

And that silence? Louder than any sound bite he’s ever given.

From Oregon to Tulsa: The Final Descent

The reality is this: the coffin was already being nailed shut after the Oregon disaster. Losing to Tulsa just hammered the lid down. It confirmed that this isn’t a blip, it’s a freefall.

Fans don’t forget scorelines like 69–3. They don’t forget losing to Tulsa at home for the first time in 74 years. They don’t forgive a coach who shrugs at systemic failure while blaming penalties.

The clock has been ticking on Gundy for years, but Friday night may well have been the moment it struck midnight. Not because Tulsa is some mighty conqueror — but because Tulsa is exactly who you don’t lose to if you want to keep pretending your program still has a pulse.

A Program Unmoored

Oklahoma State football now stands at a crossroads. It can either cling to nostalgia, hoping the man who once gave it everything can somehow pull another rabbit out of his hat. Or it can acknowledge the obvious: Mike Gundy is no longer the solution. He is the problem.

The game has passed him by. His program has regressed into irrelevance. His players aren’t good enough, his staff isn’t innovative enough, and his excuses aren’t convincing enough.

The Gundy era deserves gratitude. It also deserves an ending. And Friday night, Tulsa may have finally delivered it.