Excuses Don’t Tackle: Mullen’s Defense Is Holding UNLV Back

Seven games. Two byes. Not a single week of defensive growth.

UNLV is 6-1, but every opponent has walked off believing they should’ve won.
Dan Mullen’s offense is dynamic, efficient, explosive everything you want from a contender. Paul Guenther’s defense is everything you don’t: predictable, passive, and allergic to accountability.

Mullen keeps preaching “details” and “coachable moments.”
The scoreboard keeps preaching reality.

At some point, it stops being about patience and starts being about accountability.
It’s time for Dan Mullen to do what every leader eventually has to fire his friend, his college roommate, and make a change.

Opponents are averaging 461 yards per game and 6.7 yards per play against UNLV.
The Rebels have surrendered 500-plus yards three times and 7.0 yards per snap in four of seven games.

That’s 3,228 yards in seven weeks. 461 per game, nearly seven per snap. With no measurable progress. The defense keeps breaking in the same ways: missed fits, busted contain, and coverage that gives opposing quarterbacks a free graduate seminar in confidence.

Paul Guenther arrived in Las Vegas with an NFL résumé and an old friend’s trust.
Seven games in, his defense looks allergic to adjustments and immune to urgency.

No disguise. No rotation. No pressure. Just the same base looks and soft zones every Saturday, every drive, every excuse.

At Wyoming, the Rebels didn’t record a sack and survived only because special teams scored twice.
At home vs Air Force, they were run into submission: 428 rushing yards, six touchdowns, and no answers.
At Boise, they flat-out folded. 558 yards, 59 points, and a sideline staring blankly at clipboards while it all unraveled.

Guenther keeps calling it “execution.”
Mullen keeps calling it “coachable.”
At some point, repetition stops being a mistake and becomes a diagnosis.

Dan Mullen didn’t inherit a rebuild he inherited a standard. Barry Odom dragged UNLV football out of the basement, built a culture of toughness, and left behind a roster and infrastructure strong enough to compete for the Mountain West every year.

Mullen’s job wasn’t to reinvent the program. It was to protect the standard Odom set.

Seven games in, that standard is slipping fast. Mullen coaches like an offensive coordinator with head-coach privileges — designing fireworks while the other side of the ball burns.

He praises the offense. He excuses the defense. Every press conference sounds like a man mistaking slogans for solutions.

His loyalty to Paul Guenther, an old NFL ally, is now his biggest liability. Guenther’s defense has been shredded by everyone from Idaho State to Boise State, but Mullen keeps shielding him from criticism.

It already caught up. The defense isn’t catching anything. not the quarterback, not the ball, not accountability. Even before the loss, Mullen telegraphed the gap between his words and reality.

Boise State set the standard.
Odom matched it.
Mullen shrugs at it.

Then came the postgame pivot.

That’s the problem. He keeps talking about offense when the issue is everything else.

The locker room mirrors the message.
Safety Jake Pope called the Wyoming win “one of our more complete performances.” Linebacker Marsel McDuffie praised “communication and effort.” Even after Air Force gashed them for 428 rushing yards, the echo chamber stayed steady:

They’re not close. They’re conditioned to repeat the talking points instead of confronting the truth. UNLV has trailed or been tied in the second half of four of its six wins.

That’s not progress. That’s triage. A team Odom built on discipline and edge now survives on tempo and talent, holding its breath until the offense can bail it out.

Dan Mullen doesn’t have a defensive coordinator problem anymore. He has a program-control problem and unless he’s willing to take the defense out of Guenther’s hands, Odom’s blueprint will fade into nostalgia, and UNLV’s “standard” will go right back to meaning nothing.

That so-called “defensive breakthrough” in Laramie was pure optics.

Wyoming averaged 4.9 yards per play, held the ball for almost half the game, and never looked rattled. The Cowboys ran for 156 yards, converted key downs early, and methodically moved the chains while UNLV’s defense failed to generate consistent pressure or negative plays.

The difference came from special teams, not defense. Two blocked punts that turned into touchdowns gave UNLV its cushion and completely changed the script. Take those away, and it’s a one-score game deep into the fourth quarter.

The lone defensive highlight came only after Wyoming was flagged for offensive pass interference on what would’ve been a touchdown. A gift that turned into a drive-saving interception for UNLV. Even that moment felt opportunistic, not earned.

Paul Guenther’s defense didn’t tighten; it survived. Wyoming simply lacked the quarterback play and tempo to punish their predictability.

Dan Mullen called it “a sign of growth.”
It wasn’t growth, it was camouflage.

He’s measuring progress by the scoreboard, not the standard.

Boise turned the blue turf into a reality check. Seven touchdown drives of 60-plus yards. Three explosive scores over 45. Zero punts after halftime. Every flaw UNLV had managed to hide for six weeks was exposed in 60 minutes.

From the opening series, Boise dictated everything. The Broncos motioned, shifted, and attacked UNLV’s static zones until the Rebels simply stopped resisting. There was no disguise, no physicality, no response…. just assignment busts and business decisions on repeat.

Boise scored on eight of its first ten drives. Every touchdown looked like a replay of the one before it. Linebackers frozen by eye candy, safeties arriving three beats late, defensive linemen getting moved five yards off the ball. The drive chart reads like a film-room obituary:

That’s seven straight scoring drives of 60+ yards, with no forced punts after halftime and barely a third down faced. Boise didn’t just move the ball they owned it, averaging 9.8 yards per play, and racking up 558 yards on just 57 snaps.

Boise didn’t need tempo or trickery; they used base motion and play-action to embarrass UNLV’s communication. The linebackers never flowed. The safeties never rotated. By the third quarter, even the defensive line had stopped trying to hold gaps, they were just trying to get in the way.

UNLV’s lone sack came from Tunmise Adeleye in the first quarter and Boise adjusted immediately. After that, the Rebels never touched the quarterback again. The rest of the front seven combined for zero tackles for loss and one pass breakup.

Guenther’s calls were soft, predictable, and static. When Boise lined up in 3x1 formations, UNLV stayed in zone with no rotation. When they shifted to tight sets, the Rebels didn’t bump alignments. It wasn’t just bad execution, it was defensive malpractice.

This game wasn’t lost because of effort; it was lost because of leadership. The same lack of urgency that’s defined seven weeks of Guenther’s defense was written all over the sideline. When Boise ripped off back-to-back 70-yard drives in the second quarter, there was no timeout. No adjustment. No ownership.

Mullen’s response?

It already did. The defense isn’t catching anything. Not the quarterback, not the ball, and certainly not accountability.

This was the boiling point. For six games, UNLV’s offense carried this program through broken coverages and soft fronts. In Boise, that imbalance finally collapsed under its own weight.

Boise didn’t expose something new. they just stripped away the excuses. This wasn’t about youth. It wasn’t about two returning starters. It was about a defensive system with no spine and a head coach who refuses to intervene.

A championship-caliber offense went to Boise.
An FCS-level defense showed up with them.
And on the blue turf, reality finally won.

Quarterback Anthony Colandrea throws for nearly 300 a game. Jet Thomas runs for almost eight yards per carry. UNLV’s offense ranks among the most efficient in the nation a top-25 group in both explosiveness and red-zone scoring.

Yet, the defense looks like it belongs in the middle tier of the FCS. That’s not hyperbole that’s production. Through seven games, the Rebels are giving up 461 yards a night, 6.7 per snap, and have already surrendered 500-plus yards three separate times.

This isn’t a “bend-don’t-break” defense.
It’s a bend, break, and blame it on teachable moments defense.

Guenther’s scheme has turned an elite offense into a survival act. Every week becomes a track meet because this defense can’t win a single down on schedule. There’s no push up front, no leadership in the middle, and no communication in the secondary.

You could hand this offense to nearly any competent FBS defense and it would be a championship contender. Instead, it’s paired with a unit that couldn’t finish top-half in the Big Sky.

A program built to chase titles is being dragged back into the same hole it’s lived in for decades: one missed tackle, one blown coverage, and one excuse at a time.

Well, it happened or it didn’t, depending how you look at it. UNLV went to Boise with a shot to prove it had changed. Instead, the blue turf told the truth. This wasn’t just a loss; it was a mirror. Every weakness that’s been glossed over by “coachable mistakes” and box score optimism came crashing into view.

It looked like pre-Odom UNLV again with blown coverages, no pass rush, a defense with no clue where to line up. A team that used to define itself by “Hard. Smart. Tough.” now defines itself by “We’ll fix it.” The roster has talent. The fanbase still has faith. The defense has neither identity nor accountability.

Paul Guenther hasn’t evolved. Dan Mullen hasn’t intervened. Those “coachable mistakes” have become the program’s brand an excuse recycled every week.

After Idaho State, it was “coachable.”
After Air Force, it was “growth.”
After Boise, it was “fixable.”
Nothing’s been fixed. Nothing’s been learned.

The players can win. The fans still believe. But the defense believes in nothing. It bends, it breaks, and it hides behind explanations that don’t change a thing.

Guenther keeps offering theories instead of answers. Mullen keeps offering loyalty instead of leadership.
And every Saturday, those same “coachable mistakes” define who they are.

At some point, the scoreboard stops lying.
At some point, 6-1 stops being a shield.
At some point, you stop pretending that “bowl-eligible” is enough.

This is the pre-Odom era all over again soft, reactive, satisfied with good enough.
UNLV fans have lived through that before. They don’t want a throwback. They want a standard. Defense still wins championships and until Mullen steps in, takes control, or makes a change, UNLV will stay exactly what it is right now:

Explosive. Entertaining. And nowhere close to serious about winning when it matters.

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