Texas Tech coach takes veiled shot at USC over sparse Week Zero attendance

Joey Maguire stood at a podium Monday and said he didn't want to take shots at anybody, then took a shot anyway. The Texas Tech head coach was talking about his team's upcoming home opener in Lubbock, where he expected a sold-out crowd of 60,000 to show up despite brutal heat. He made a point of noting that West Texas fans are tough people who love their football and will endure the conditions. The implication was clear: unlike some other programs he could mention.

What he was really talking about was USC's Week Zero game against San Jose State the day before. The Trojans hosted the Spartans at the LA Coliseum on Saturday at noon, a kickoff time that made sense for NBC's broadcast schedule but little else. The temperature hit the mid-90s with unusual humidity for Southern California. The Trojans were 38-point favorites. Many fans chose to stay home, a rational calculation given the weather, the atrocious LA traffic, elevated parking prices, the long walk from distant lots, and the infamously slow security lines at the aging stadium. The stands looked sparse, and the internet noticed.

Maguire's comment was the latest in days of outrage from commentators and analysts who seemed certain they would sit through miserable conditions to watch a blowout. What got lost in the dunking was context. Other major programs—the Florida Gators, for instance—have struggled to fill seats for noon games in August. The difference, though, is instructive. In Gainesville and Lubbock, fans have no real choice. August and September weather in those places is objectively brutal, and if you want to watch your team play, you endure it or miss half the season. There's no alternative game to attend instead because there's no competing entertainment.

Southern California is different. USC's next home game, against Fresno State on Friday, was forecast at 72 degrees, dropping to 68 by the end. Fans could rationally decide to skip the San Jose State blowout and attend that one instead. Meanwhile, Los Angeles hosts NFL games, Major League Baseball, and Major League Soccer—all competing for the same entertainment dollars. The Coliseum itself sits in downtown LA, which means unpredictable traffic and a guessing game just to arrive. Late-arriving crowds are part of the LA sports experience because getting anywhere in the city is an unpredictable ordeal.

There are other factors at play. USC's ticket prices have climbed steeply. Desirable seats for the Oregon game in September were running $425 to $475, meaning a family of four would spend nearly $2,000 before parking and concessions. By contrast, Texas Tech's lower-level tickets for their Arizona State game—their biggest home matchup—were available at $170. Even their game against Arizona, which Maguire called their "biggest" home game, had thousands of seats waiting. The school's student body has also shifted dramatically in recent decades, with a notably high percentage of international students whose families have little interest in football.

Maguire's comment landed because it fit a narrative: that USC fans lack commitment, that they're soft compared to the hardy souls of West Texas. The reality is messier. USC's attendance problem isn't about toughness. It's about a convergence of choices—a noon kickoff on a freak heat day, a blowout game, brutal logistics, high prices, and a city full of alternatives. In Lubbock, there are no alternatives. The weather will be nearly as hot on Saturday—92 degrees forecast—but the 4 p.m. kickoff means the sun will be behind the stadium by the second half, and the lower humidity will make it slightly more bearable. Maguire will get his sold-out crowd, and he'll be right that his fans are tough. But that toughness is less a virtue than a necessity born of geography.