The atmosphere in Indiana University’s Assembly Hall was electric, charged with a mix of defiance, pride, and underlying tension. Just days before the national championship clash against a formidable opponent, whispers of scandal had escalated into a full-blown media frenzy.

The Hoosiers, under second-year head coach Curt Cignetti, had stormed to a perfect 15-0 record, dismantling powerhouses like Alabama and Oregon in the College Football Playoff with ruthless efficiency. But success of this magnitude doesn’t come without scrutiny.

Social media had been ablaze with unsubstantiated claims that Indiana was cheating—hacking into rivals’ playbooks via AI systems like VEO and Pixelot, or worse, employing insider spies to steal game plans.

The allegations traced back to a viral X post from @GoatKiffin, who accused the program of digital espionage.

“Not only has Indiana been hacking into the VEO/Pixelot software to watch practice film of other teams, but they have infiltrated most cloud-based systems where teams store their game plans,” the post read.

Fueled by Fox Sports analyst Chris Fallica’s innocent observation—”It’s almost like Indiana knows what play is coming almost every down”—the rumor mill spun out of control. Defensive coordinator Bryant Haines had already clapped back with a cheeky X reply, but now the pressure demanded a formal response.

Cignetti, the fiery architect of Indiana’s renaissance, called an impromptu press conference in the auditorium, drawing hundreds of students, fans, faculty, and media. The 64-year-old coach, known for his blunt “I win. Google me” mantra from his hiring presser, strode to the podium with his trademark intensity.

His career path—from assistant stints at Alabama under Nick Saban to head coaching triumphs at IUP, Elon, and James Madison—had prepared him for turnarounds, but nothing like this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Hoosier Nation,” Cignetti began, his voice booming through the speakers. “These are baseless accusations! We will defeat them fair and square and prove them wrong!” The words hung in the air, igniting a thunderous ovation. Students erupted in cheers, chanting “IU! IU!” and waving crimson flags.

Cignetti’s declaration wasn’t just a denial; it was a battle cry, echoing his philosophy of relentless preparation and living in the “here and now.” He elaborated on his program’s ethos: “Our success comes from stacking days of elite work—recruiting transfers like champions, developing talent, and executing a blueprint that leaves no room for doubt.

We’ve outscored playoff foes 94-25 combined. That’s not cheating; that’s dominance earned through sweat and strategy.”

The crowd’s energy was palpable. Cignetti, who had engineered a 11-2 turnaround in his debut 2024 season before the undefeated 2025 campaign, painted a picture of integrity. He highlighted quarterback Fernando Mendoza’s playoff heroics—eight touchdowns, zero interceptions against Alabama and Oregon, completing 31-of-36 passes—and the defense’s 29 forced turnovers.

“This team believes because they’re prepared,” he said. “Rip off the rearview mirror; focus on controllables.” Cheers swelled again as he vowed to “crush the noise” en route to the title.

But as the applause subsided and Cignetti stepped aside for questions, Mendoza, the redshirt junior sensation from Miami, Florida, approached the microphone. The 6’5″, 225-pound Heisman finalist—fresh off a 3,349-yard, 30-touchdown season that shattered program records—had been the face of Indiana’s offense since transferring from California.

Known for his poise, accuracy (setting IU’s single-game completion mark at 95%), and leadership, Mendoza was expected to echo his coach’s sentiments.

Instead, he paused, scanned the room with a serious gaze, and delivered a nine-word bombshell that stunned the auditorium into silence: “Coach, what if we actually were cheating a little?”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. What? The star QB, the one who had thrown for more TDs than incompletions in the playoffs, just admitted… something? Cignetti’s face froze mid-smile. Students exchanged bewildered glances. Media scribbled furiously.

Was this a joke? A confession? Mendoza held the pause for effect, then cracked a grin. “Kidding! But seriously, folks, the real cheat code is Coach Cignetti’s preparation. No hacks needed—we just know the game better.”

The room exploded in laughter and relieved cheers. It was a masterful troll, diffusing tension with humor while underscoring the absurdity of the claims. Mendoza elaborated: “I’ve been here one year, transferred for a fresh start, and found a staff that treats every snap like a Super Bowl.

Our film study is exhaustive, our adjustments lightning-fast. Against Oregon, we picked off the first play—11 seconds in. That’s scheme, not scandal.” He praised Cignetti’s “GM and head coach” approach, hand-picking talent like himself and brother Alberto (who threw a TD in the same game against Kennesaw State).

The nine words became instant legend, trending on X as #MendozaMischief. Fans memed it endlessly, but it humanized the program amid the storm.

Cignetti, recovering quickly, slapped Mendoza on the back: “That’s my QB—keeping ’em guessing on the field and off.” The event shifted narrative from suspicion to admiration, with pundits calling it “brilliant gamesmanship.”

Yet the allegations lingered, probing deeper into why Indiana’s rise felt “too good.” Cignetti’s track record—145-37 overall, multiple coach-of-the-year awards—suggested genius, not guile. At IUP, he went 53-17; at JMU, 52-9, including FCS title runs. Indiana’s +473 point differential topped 2019 Clemson’s.

Mendoza’s transfer was key: from Cal’s all-time completion leader to IU’s single-season TD king.

As the team boarded for the title game, Mendoza’s quip bonded them. “It surprised everyone, but it united us,” a player said anonymously. Cignetti addressed the media later: “Fernando’s got ice in his veins. That message? Pure Hoosier heart—deflect, dominate, deliver.”

In the end, the scandal fizzled against facts: no evidence, just excellence. Mendoza’s words reminded all: sometimes, the best response is a wink and a win. As IU eyed its first national title since forever, the auditorium echo lingered—cheers turning to championship chants.