If you don't obsessively check Smart Football for new updates on at least a weekly basis, go hit yourself in the balls with the nearest heavy object. If you have no balls, i.e. you are female, then apply a heavy object to the balls of the man closest to you. When he grabs his jumblies and collapses to the ground asking "WHYYYYYYY?", just nod at him and say, "You know why," and then walk away. He'll understand, even if he doesn't and eventually bleeds out internally from the injuries.
If the old running offenses of yesteryear, in reflecting earlier times, were like punishing boxers who engaged in matches where the biggest and strongest won, then offenses like (Paul) Johnson's and Meyer's, in reflecting their times, are like martial arts: without sacrificing either strength or power, they punish you but also use speed, quickness, and cleverness to, hit you where you do not expect and probe to find your weak spots, and exploit them, witout mercy.
We can only hope Saturday unfurls in such techno-backed glory--the prospect of facing any Saban team out of year one terrifies us. Watch the safeties roll exactly where they're supposed to roll, the linebackers hold contain, the corners play their assignments perfectly.
We could care less about the names on the depth chart: it's the discipline you have to respect. They don't go anywhere they're not supposed to go on any play no matter the formation or scheme. Add talent, and you're talking about a noose just waiting for someone to jump on in and test it out. (Saban: "Yep. Looks like that's strangling you just fine.")