Each October, when everything from grocery stores to car dealerships unapologetically latches onto the hype machine that is pumpkins and horror movies, one grows an appreciation for the parts of life that capture the spirit of the season in more understated ways.
Suddenly, candy corn turns from an afterthought into a craving, and Frankenstein transforms from a high school English class requirement into a mascot for everything that is Halloween.
Along those lines, with only a little bit of imagination, the Iowa Hawkeyes’ 41-24 blowout victory over Washington can be reimagined as a classic gothic horror story, at least from the perspective of the Huskies.
The very best tales in gothic horror begin with the perfect atmosphere. Under ideal conditions, tall, ornate buildings with dramatic archways and pointy spires overlook an otherwise tranquil environment.
A late-night stroll through the heart of the University of Washington’s campus checks that box. The near-century-old academic buildings and brick paths that surround the Drumheller Fountain and Red Square take on a special significance this time of year.
Under the cover of darkness in the Pacific Northwest, the jagged geometry of that Gothic architecture adopts a bleaker tone, and the raw beauty of late-stage autumn is coupled with an underlying air of decay. In these kinds of stories, the aesthetic qualities of the setting are reflected onto the characters (and football team) that call it home.
With the setting established, the plot of the story now takes priority. Usually, the central conflict in gothic horror involves past troubles resurfacing as present problems. Oftentimes, they might manifest themselves in supernatural ways like a monster, or worse, a star running back.
In Iowa-Washington, that past demon was former Iowa running back Kaleb Johnson, who ran for 166 yards and racked up three scores in a 40-16 victory between the two sides in 2024. The present was Kamari Moulton, who one-upped Johnson with a career-high 208 yards rushing against the Huskies.
“I was watching [Johnson’s] highlight tape before this game,” Moulton remarked.
Like a good slow burn, it wasn’t just one or two big runs that sent the Huskies into a Victor Frankenstein-esque spiral. Instead, it was a gradual yet constant wave of misfortune across the entire game.
On the second play from scrimmage, Moulton ran the ball through the teeth of the Husky defensive line and into the secondary for a 19-yard gain, his longest rush against a Power-Four opponent all season to that point.
“You can tell like the first few runs how it’s going to go, then you know it’s going to be a good game,” Moulton said.
At the tail end of the first quarter, he broke off a 56-yard touchdown run, in which he slipped through an initial group of Husky defenders at the line of scrimmage, outran another, galloped through an arm tackle, and hit the brakes to shake two more defenders on his way to the endzone.
With Moulton’s mini-Beastquake reverberating in Washington’s minds for the rest of the night, Iowa’s passing attack added three touchdowns of their own to progressively more and more open receivers.
Psychological terror. Another key element of gothic horror.
“Nothing really went our way,” Washington head coach Jedd Fisch said.
Physically dominated at the line of scrimmage, mentally dominated in the form of missed tackles and blown coverages, the Washington Huskies, as the main character in this college football gothic horror story, were reduced to a shell of themselves when the final whistle blew.
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