Jeremiyah Love’s name was already echoing through the halls of recruiting offices and across digital scouting platforms, but when he made his earth-shaking announcement to flip his commitment to Oklahoma, the college football world didn’t just take notice—it was sent into a frenzy. Standing at an unprecedented 7-foot-4 and boasting a 4.5-second 40-yard dash, Love defies every mold, every metric, and every expectation associated with the running back position. Now officially the tallest running back in football history, his decision to align with Brent Venables and the Oklahoma Sooners marks one of the most staggering recruiting twists of the modern era. A player this size with that speed is beyond rare—it’s almost mythical. Oklahoma didn’t just land a recruit. They landed a phenomenon.

For Venables and the Oklahoma coaching staff, this moment represents not only the culmination of aggressive recruitment and visionary talent evaluation but also a signal to the rest of college football that the Sooners are willing to go where others won’t. Jeremiyah Love isn’t just a football player—he’s a living, running mismatch. How does a 5’11” linebacker or 6’0” safety prepare to tackle a man nearly a foot and a half taller and faster than many skill position players on the field? The math doesn’t add up. The physics don’t compute. And yet, Love exists, and he’s now a Sooner.

What makes Love even more fascinating is how he has shattered every preconceived notion about what a running back should be. For decades, the prototype has been relatively compact, agile, with a low center of gravity, making it easier to change direction, absorb hits, and maintain balance. Coaches have traditionally looked for a certain build—between 5’9” and 6’2”, weighing between 190 to 225 pounds. Love laughs in the face of that formula. At 7’4” and 270 pounds, he shouldn’t be able to do the things he does—but he does them with breathtaking ease. Scouts have been baffled, impressed, and frankly, a little overwhelmed. His tape looks like it was created in a video game. Defensive backs bounce off him. He hurdles linemen. He catches swing passes with a wingspan that might rival a small aircraft and turns them into 60-yard sprints with frightening acceleration.

The footage from the spring combine sent shockwaves when he clocked in at 4.5 seconds in the 40-yard dash. Whispers had already circulated about his straight-line speed, but when the numbers were made official, recruiting boards across the nation started to reshuffle. Love was already a 5-star prospect, but now he was in a class of his own—literally. Analysts started jokingly asking if he should be given a sixth star. It wasn’t just the speed or size or strength—it was the combination. And the football IQ. And the vision. And the freakish balance for someone with such a high center of gravity. Put simply, Jeremiyah Love is the unicorn every program dreams of but never expects to actually exist.

The drama surrounding his recruitment had been building for months. Originally committed to a powerhouse SEC school, Love seemed locked in early. That staff, and their fans, had already penciled him in as a future game-changer. But in the background, Oklahoma was working. Brent Venables and his offensive staff, including their top recruiters, stayed patient and persistent. They pitched a vision that wasn’t just about football—it was about legacy. They told Love that at Oklahoma, he wouldn’t just play. He’d redefine what a running back could be. They told him he wouldn’t be just another name in a deep roster—he’d be the future face of the sport. Eventually, those words struck a chord.

The flip itself happened without warning. One cryptic tweet, then a bombshell announcement on a livestream: “I’m taking my talents to Norman. I’m ready to be a Sooner.” The reaction was instant and explosive. Former players, media personalities, and stunned fans all weighed in. ESPN interrupted programming to break the news. Social media erupted in celebratory chaos. Oklahoma players and commits chimed in with excitement. “We just got an alien,” one defensive starter tweeted. Another said, “You can’t coach 7’4. You just thank God and hand him the ball.”

For Brent Venables, this moment might go down as the defining achievement of his early tenure in Norman. When he took over as head coach, he promised to elevate Oklahoma into a modern juggernaut—one that not only competed but dominated in recruiting, player development, and innovation. Love’s commitment speaks to all three. It reflects a willingness to think outside the box, to trust your eyes over traditional norms, and to recruit players not just for what they are now but what they could be. Venables didn’t just win a recruitment. He won a recruiting philosophy war.

But the work is far from over. Now comes the real challenge: integrating Love into a college offense in a way that maximizes his gifts without exposing potential liabilities. His height is a blessing in open space, but in tight quarters, pad level will be scrutinized. Defensive coordinators will scheme specifically to try and neutralize him, although how one actually goes about neutralizing a 7’4” speedster remains to be seen. Oklahoma’s offensive staff will need to tailor their playbook around his skill set. But that’s not a problem—it’s a dream. Imagine goal-line formations with Love behind an extra lineman. Imagine screen plays where he catches the ball above defenders’ heads and barrels forward like a semi-truck. Imagine jump balls from the backfield. The possibilities are endless.

In the locker room, Love has already been described as soft-spoken but fiercely competitive. Coaches rave about his discipline, humility, and love of the game. He’s not interested in social media fame or viral highlights—he’s obsessed with winning. That mentality will go a long way in a program like Oklahoma’s, where expectations are sky-high and every game carries the weight of tradition. His future teammates are reportedly excited not just for what he can do, but for who he is. One player noted, “He walks in and the whole room stops—but then he daps you up and you realize he’s just one of us.”

As for the fans, the hype is off the charts. Oklahoma’s ticket office saw a spike in early-season sales within hours of Love’s announcement. Jerseys with the number he wore in high school sold out in minutes. NIL opportunities are reportedly already in the works, with brands eager to attach themselves to a once-in-a-generation athlete. But Love and his camp have made it clear—his focus is football. The rest is just noise.

From a broader perspective, Jeremiyah Love’s arrival at Oklahoma may signal the beginning of a new era in football scouting and strategy. As players become more athletic and training regimens advance, we may see more prospects who defy traditional boundaries. Love is the first of his kind, but perhaps not the last. His success, or lack thereof, will impact how coaches evaluate tall skill players in years to come. If he thrives, expect the mold to shatter permanently.

Love’s story is still being written, but what’s already happened reads like legend. A 7-foot-4, 270-pound running back with elite speed was never supposed to exist, let alone star on the gridiron. But he does. And he’s headed to Oklahoma. The Sooners just secured a towering advantage—literally and figuratively—that may tilt the balance of power in college football. Venables and his staff didn’t just land a recruit. They ignited a movement, flipped the narrative, and brought a new kind of electricity to Norman.

For Jeremiyah Love, the path forward is paved with expectations, doubters, and the blinding spotlight of history. But if his past is any indicator, he won’t just meet the moment—he’ll tower above it.