Next year’s expansion of the playoffs from four to twelve
teams is stupid (it potentially adds three games to some teams’ schedules—let’s
just forget about all that “student-athlete” rhetoric—but it does solve one problem
and mitigate another. There won’t be an
undefeated major conference champion that isn’t given at least the opportunity
to win a national title. If you’re not
clearly one of the twelve best teams in the country, STFU if you get ranked 13th.
Plus, there will be fewer opt-outs if there’s a national
title at stake instead of the rather less impressive distinction of being the
champion of the Pop-Tarts Bowl. (Yes,
that’s a real bowl game.)
But these don’t begin to solve all the problems. Let’s take the ones Curmie identified earlier
and offer some possible solutions.
NIL is becoming the principal if not sole driver of
collegiate athletics. We can’t eliminate
the system altogether, but we can impose restrictions. For example: forbid universities from
marketing their players, or seeking contributions from the public (“if you want
your team to keep winning, send a check”). To give a little perspective: it is hardly a
secret that Curmie is a fan of the Kansas Jayhawks; KU is the only school from
which Curmie has a degree that has Division 1 football.
Jayhawks coach Lance Leipold was heavily rumored to be a
contender for the University of Washington job after their coach, Kalen DeBoer,
left for Alabama. Curmie subscribes to
an email list about KU athletics. The
most recent missive manages to whine on three separate occasions about the alleged
insufficiency of KU’s NIL funds as a cause for concern. KU, by the way, is about to give Leipold a substantial
raise to his meager $5.7 million salary; it appears likely he’ll soon be able
to get the large Coke with his Big Mac combo if he wants it. Collegiate sports have been mostly about
money for a long time; we’re moving towards being exclusively about money.
It would be nice to impose a cap on how much a “student
athlete” could make, but that’s probably not feasible. What could certainly be done is to make all NIL
contracts include a promise by the athlete to be available to play in every
game, including bowl games, except when ruled medically unable to do so
or there is some other reasonable excuse (death in the family, that sort of
thing). “I’m an asshole who doesn’t want
to risk injury” is not such a legitimate reason. NIL sponsors should be permitted to claw back
every nickel from players who don’t adhere to this rule.
If Curmie were in a management position with an NFL team,
he’d make it clear that he’s a lot more interested in players who want their
team to win and do what it takes to make that happen rather than in looking out
for themselves alone. Of course, the
average NFL exec is a moron who wouldn’t come to that obvious conclusion, but
even curmudgeons can dream, right?
That said, players who stand to make millions as
professional athletes are indeed risking their future earnings by playing in
bowl games. They will receive insurance
policies based on percentage of their anticipated future income, as determined
by independent authorities; the cost of these policies will be shared equally
by the NCAA and the player’s university.
The transfer portal will not be open until the day after the
national championship game. Schools who
contact players from other teams will be ineligible for any post-season games,
including conference championships, for one year (three years for a second
offense in the three year period).
Players who advertise their availability prior to that start date will
be ineligible to play for anyone for one year.
And then there are all those bowl games that nobody has ever
heard of unless your team plays in it. Here’s
Curmie’s proposal: no bowl game that includes a major conference team and attracts
neither 25,000 fans to the stadium nor a TV rating of 1 (i.e., 1% of
television sets in the country are tuned to the game) will continue next
year. Those numbers will be halved—12,500
fans and a rating of .5—for games between Group of 5 teams.
Games that meet only one of those criteria will be on
probation: if they reach the goals next year, great. If their numbers improve but are still below
the threshold, the bowl remains on probation.
If the numbers don’t improve, they’re gone. No new bowl game can be played within 25
miles of the venue for five years. (A
different bowl in the same city that meets the requirements would be allowed to
continue.)
Using TV ratings on Sports Media Watch and attendance figures from Wikipedia,
Curmie would therefore cancel the Boca Raton and Fenway Bowls immediately, and
place the Birmingham, Camelia, Cure, Famous Idaho Potato, Famous Toastery,
Frisco, Hawaii, Independence, Las Vegas, Mobile, Myrtle Beach, and New Mexico
Bowls on probation.
Of the five current “All-Star” games, the East-West Shrine
Bowl would be allowed to continue because of its charitable cause; the others
would be cancelled unless they, too, adopt a recognized charity recipient of
the game’s revenues. Such a charity must
not be exclusive in terms of race, sex/gender, religion, etc.
Even if all of these ideas were to be adopted, college
football will never be the same. Curmie
supposes there’s something to be said for being upfront about the corruption of
the process, but that seems rather a small consolation. “Student athletes,” especially in football, will
increasingly be regarded as commodities to be bought and sold, in large part because
they’re marketing themselves that way.
But until someone comes up with a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon
in the fall, Curmie will probably continue to watch. Alas.
