The atmosphere crackled with anticipation on ESPN’s “College GameDay” as Corbin Cessna, a Texas Longhorns alumnus and erstwhile civil engineer turned lawyer, stepped up for a life-altering field goal attempt. Cessna, burdened by law school debt, had the chance to dramatically alter his financial trajectory with a single, well-placed kick. His strategy, as he explained it, was to keep it simple, smooth, and controlled, likening it to a gentle 9-iron shot in golf, emphasizing the importance of avoiding overexertion. Initially, the prize money stood at a substantial $200,000, but the ever-exuberant Pat McAfee, in a spontaneous act of generosity, persuaded his co-host, Kirk Herbstreit, to match the amount, doubling the potential winnings to an impressive $400,000. Little did anyone know, Cessna’s first attempt would become a moment etched in “GameDay” infamy.
The moment of truth arrived, and Cessna’s kick was anything but the smooth 9-iron he’d envisioned. Instead, it was a woefully underpowered, almost comical bloop that barely traversed half the distance to the uprights, positioned a mere 33 yards away. The sheer ineptitude of the kick elicited a visceral reaction from McAfee, who, in his characteristically unrestrained style, immediately declared, “This guy sucks,” followed by the harsher assessment, “This guy is the worst of all-time.” The crowd, a mix of amused and sympathetic onlookers, found themselves witnessing a spectacular display of athletic futility.
The collective groan from the assembled fans, coupled with their playful yet insistent chants for a second chance, swayed McAfee’s generous spirit. He proposed another opportunity for Cessna, a chance at redemption, but with significantly heightened stakes. McAfee once again committed Herbstreit’s funds, another $200,000, matching it himself, escalating the potential prize to a staggering $800,000. The escalating drama didn’t end there. Adding another layer of surreal excitement to the proceedings, “GameDay” guest picker, Hollywood actor Timothée Chalamet, caught up in the infectious energy of the moment, impulsively offered to match the existing pot, catapulting the total potential payout to an eye-watering $1.2 million. The gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on McAfee, who exclaimed, “Holy hell, everything just got very real all of a sudden. That first attempt was God-awful, but now you got a $1.2 million operation.”
Cessna now stood poised for a second attempt, this time with the weight of $1.2 million pressing down on him, a figure far surpassing the burdens of his law school debt. He launched his second kick, a markedly improved effort that sailed with the necessary distance, only to cruelly veer left at the crucial moment, narrowly missing the uprights. Cessna, doubled over in disbelief, watched his chance at instant wealth disappear by a matter of mere feet, a moment of agonizing near-miss that would likely haunt him for years to come. The crowd, now fully invested in Cessna’s plight, shared his disappointment, having witnessed both a spectacular failure and a heartbreaking near-triumph.
While Cessna’s individual quest for financial freedom ended in a memorable, albeit painful, near-miss, the day held greater significance for him as a dedicated Longhorns fan. His beloved Texas Longhorns, ranked no. 2 in the nation, were set to clash with the formidable no. 5 Georgia Bulldogs in the high-stakes SEC Championship game later that day. This game carried significant implications for the Longhorns, representing a chance to secure a coveted spot in the national championship playoff picture. For Cessna, despite the personal setback, the day’s focus would inevitably shift to supporting his team in their crucial battle for gridiron glory.
The “College GameDay” segment, featuring Cessna’s dramatic double attempt, quickly transitioned from a lighthearted contest to a captivating mini-drama, fueled by McAfee’s spontaneous generosity and the unexpected participation of Timothée Chalamet. It showcased the unpredictable and often absurd nature of live television, transforming a simple fan contest into a spectacle that captured the attention of the college football world. Cessna, though ultimately unsuccessful in his quest for a life-altering windfall, became a momentary folk hero, his double miss resonating with anyone who had ever faced a high-pressure situation and fallen short. The incident served as a poignant reminder that sometimes, even with a second chance, the elusive prize remains just out of reach.
