 |
 |
 |
|
I was actually hoping there would be more hue, and even some added cry, over the Planetary League of College Commissioners decision to never have a college football playoff until they were all long and safely dead.
Not because I like listening to people plunge dog teeth into their carotids because the college football season isn't long enough, but because nothing says sports discourse in the new millennium like an aneurysm-inducing hissy fit.
|
|
| Only John Swofford (right) and Mike Slive seem interested in a playoff over more money. (AP) |
Besides, I have no problem with anyone who can live in their parents' basement and work. I think a more bothersome stereotype would be if bloggers were described as "puppy-eating mass murderers and children's hospital arsonists." Plus, I missed the part in Honors English where a struggling artist must be responsible for his or her own mortgage.
In other words, in this stupefying debate, I come down firmly on the side of "Oh, will you all shut the hell up and let people read what they want to read? Paula Abdul is the new Charles Van Doren and you're worrying about this, you hyenas?"
But I have plainly digressed, because try as I might, I have been lured into the argument that reminds me that Americans can agree on only two things: One, that we think listening is worse than talking, and two, that we think learning is worse than teaching.
I want to get back to the BCS thing, because the disconsolate reaction to the commissioners' decision seems to have finally convinced everyone that the decades-long bitch-a-thon is finally over. It seems, in short, like everyone has given up the fight.
Then again, it's hard to know how much of a fight to put up when, after years of being jollied along, you've finally gotten your official response from the boys who run college football, and it is a middle finger jammed two-knuckles deep into your eyes.
There isn't a lot of rebuttal to that.
The commissioners met this week knowing they weren't going to agree to a playoff system, and not just because Jim Delany of the Big 10 and Tom Hansen of the Pac 10 said so. As it turns out, most of the commissioners have done the math, and they have discovered that 32, or 34, or 60 bowl games makes more money than any other plan.
And they must be right, because these guys are all top-class money-grubbers. They wouldn't have gotten their jobs if they weren't. They can hear a dollar bill hit a down pillow, and they can smell a quarter in a bucket of barbecue sauce. They will sell advertising space on their coaches' throats for money. They will make athletes eat snack foods on the sidelines during games for money. They will eat live, wiggly things while wearing gingham dresses for money.
These guys know money. But until this week, they pretended there was a debate about how to tweak the college football system to allow for some sort of mutant playoff system. This week, they said, "Nahhh, we were just yanking you. We're gonna do seven more years of this, and if nothing changes and you keep throwing money at the Humanitarian Bowl, we're going to keep making new ones, and the more we make, the less chance there will ever be for a playoff."
And I don't even care if there's a playoff. And frankly, neither do you. Because you watch anyway. Because you're hooked. Because they've got you by the innards, and you don't even mind the pain. You knew when they met to talk playoff and came out with two new non-BCS bowl games that you've lost the argument, maybe forever.
Having Buzz Bissinger crank you out for not reading more Chaucer would be more pleasant. So would being attacked for not having a greater appreciation for poo-poo jokes.
So yes, it's a sad thing when you give up on a dream, but when it's time to face facts, it's time to face facts. The rich old men have spoken, and that's that.
On the other hand, there's a town hall meeting on clogging up the bases in a couple of weeks. That'll take your mind off your loss.
