Give in to your anger

The BCS sucks. It’s a corrupt piece of garbage that goes against everything pure in sports, foisted upon us by fat cats with no concern for fair play, giving the fans what they want, or letting anyone win the title on the field. If it weren’t for big-money conferences, it wouldn’t exist.

We all know this. Everyone puts up with it, though, which makes me sick.

This year the BCS matchups are particularly stupid: Alabama, which just dominated the vaunted Florida Gators, will be playing Texas, which tried valiantly to lose to Nebraska last week, for the national championship. Left out of a shot at the championship are undefeated TCU, Cincinnati, and Boise State.

The great things about college football are the same things that are great about America. There’s all the pageantry, the spectacle,  the youthful and regional pride, but most importantly, sports are a meritocracy. You want to know which of your state’s big schools has the best team? Let them figure it out, on the field, in front of thousands of screaming maniacs and watch as young men make amazing things happen under intense pressure with the threat of pain and suffering built into every down. The scoreboard doesn’t care what your facilities look like back home, or who your daddy was, or that fourth-quarter comeback you sparked with an interception last week. All that matters is what you can do right now—whose best beats whose best try.

The bad things about the BCS are all the things bad about America: small, powerful groups wielding unfair influence over everyone, all thanks to a taller stack of dollars. And their propaganda tactics are absurd: for years they pretended to have their hands tied by the sinister computer formulas, until one day we all realized that computers are our friends. Now they make patronizing allowances to smaller schools but refuse to invite them to the main event. We love to say socialism is a threat to the American way, but what about when the rich are so rich they can afford to stop trying?

That’s what happened with this year’s bowl matchups: the cowards in charge put TCU and Boise State in the Fiesta Bowl to spare the big-money teams the shame of losing they way they’ve lost to Boise State and Utah lately. It’s infuriating that the matchup between two undefeated teams will inevitably be billed as a sort of Junior National Championship, especially considering the Horned Frogs took it to their ranked competition so much better than the Longhorns ever did.

I’m not saying Texas doesn’t deserve to be there. Well, actually, I am, because no one “deserves” a spot in an arbitrary championship game just because they had a good regular season. But whatever. I don’t know who is the best out of Texas, TCU, Boise State, Cincinnati, or, for that matter, Alabama. The sad thing? No one will ever know. Sure, you can study it, break down the numbers, and come to a solid conclusion, but you can’t say anyone deserved that crystal football when just two teams were blessed with a chance to play for it. The World’s Shortest Tournament, we’ll call it. It’s not that a normal playoff system is perfect, or that the best team always wins (just ask Tom Brady). It’s just that real contenders all get a real shot, so nobody cares.

The most devastating part of it all is the aftermath, when BCS apologists (read: those with a financial stake in extending the current BS) rush out to cry: All is well! Perhaps Alabama wins in spectacular fashion over Texas, and the pundits agree that Alabama would have beaten anyone this year. You know, it might even be true. It’s just completely unfair to all the schools, including Alabama. Don’t you think Crimson Tide fans would want to savor a few more weeks of dominance in a playoff system? And shouldn’t the team get a chance to put all doubts to rest?

Actually, the real most devastating part is what we’re all missing, which is the joy we’d get from, say, a 16-team tournament. I get giddy just thinking about it. College football playoffs? Are you kidding me? I want to race to every sports website the morning after the committee makes it picks, printing out brackets and rifling through analysis until I find something I already agreed with. I want to sign into eight different places so I can lose bracket challenges to everyone I know. I want to know that a No. 13 upset a No. 4 in seven of the last ten years. I’ve never been to a bowl game, but I’d want to a lot more if that Liberty Bowl had an SEC team with a Pro Bowler behind center and a seven-game winning streak that I thought could win it all. See, I have nothing against big conferences. I like college football. I just wish I could love it.

So how do we fix this absolutely-broken system? It’s daunting, but simple: we have to stop putting up with it. There’s so much that could be done, from ignoring college football entirely to pressuring your local congressman into some good ol'-fashioned regulatory intervention. My plan this year is to pass on every BCS game but the Fiesta Bowl, and while I’m not ready to commit to it, I’m about ready to ignore the rest of the bowl games entirely. (I mean, come on, they’re stupid anyway: play all year just to get into one last ceremonial game?)

I could definitely watch the MAACO Bowl without any threat to my conscience, as BYU is the only non-BCS team in more than fifty years to win a national championship. And I’d watch Colorado if they were in a bowl, but that’s no problem this year. Anyway, that’s where I choose to draw the line. I know some of you won’t want to give up the national championship game, such as it is. That’s fine. But I call on everyone this year to do something to call attention to or challenge this grave injustice. Let’s stop acting like the current situation is anything short of a disaster.