The one absolutely essential element of an Oregon national championship

Belief is powerful. They make movies about its capacity to elevate a team or person. Belief makes dreams tangible. Jason Sudeikis and an incredibly creative ensemble of writers and actors gave life to "Ted Lasso," an award-winning show about belief and creating a family that's about to enjoy a curtain call.

The Olympics are packaged around stories of the individual athletes, their journey and their dreams. It's the belief that fuels them, that gives them the drive and energy and hope to work through all those 5 a.m. trips to an empty ice rink, to get back up after cracking their shoulder against the unforgiving blue-white concrete when a jump fails in practice for the third time in a row.

Long before the roses and the teddy bears, the performer, his family and his team had belief. They had a vision of success. They saw it happen in their minds and it fueled all the preparation and sacrifice until it was stronger than the judges, the degree of difficulty, the obstacles or the competition.

A few years ago in Autzen Stadium, we heard something I never thought I'd hear in Eugene. After another staid, predictable performance by the Oregon offense, a stagnant third quarter, a failed off tackle play on third and six leading to the third punt in a row, fan frustration reached a crescendo. With a future NFL draft choice at quarterback and a stable of fleet playmakers, the Oregon offense stumbled along at barely 31 points a game. Just a decade before, they were three touchdowns better. Hurry up. Grow a pair.

Boos rained down in the House of Loud, the magical environment where it never rains. Chances are they were directed at the man in the booth or the clench-jawed, man-boobed coach pacing the sideline, but it didn't feel that way. Oregon fans were booing the Ducks, and that testy strain of entitlement has lingered ever since.

Expectations have to be tempered with patience, and faith

We all got caught up in it, firing off sarcastic tweets or grumbling about hype and high-priced talent, questioning the lack of heart. Boos and negativity aren't well-targeted. In the stands, the parents of the athletes and recruits heard them like they were directed at their own kid,

Just like belief, negativity has a momentum. Six months ahead of a new season, there's some concern about an inexperienced offensive coordinator or how significantly Dante Moore can improve toward his awesome potential. Already some are poised at the tail end of the bandwagon, their $12 commemorative soda cups in their hand, ready to check out until basketball season. And that overlapping fanbase stands ready to fire their 20-year, award-winning coach.

In every great venture there are moments of adversity. A football program has to find its way, its identity. It has to be tested. The other guys are lifting weights at 6 a.m. too. The bonds of trust and confidence have to sharpen the will, or it doesn't work.

Oregon and its fans enter 2026 with bold hopes, but chances are in September there will be a moment where the offense trudges off the field after their third three and out. That's the moment when a program will be reborn or sink to a familiar level of fatalism and almost.

Fans have only one job. Show up unreservedly. Recognize and remember the effort and sacrifice it took to fuel the success. Invest in the journey. Believe, and be full-throated and steadfast about it.

Dreams die without belief. It has to be stronger than anything it its way.