Thanks to being a son of a Notre Dame graduate, college football has been my favorite sport for as long as I can remember.
My first very vivid memory of watching sports was New Year’s Day 1988, when Texas A&M embarrassed Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl and my Dad was not happy, to say the least. As a five year old, all I could think was, “why is Dad so mad when there’s so much football on?” My mother had even made little hot dogs. It felt like the best day of my life, even if Notre Dame got blown out.
In 1988, we watched Notre Dame beat Miami together. On January 2, 1989 (since New Year’s Day fell on a Sunday) we watched the Irish win the national championship and he lifted me on his shoulders as we paraded around our house. We called my Uncle, another Domer, and celebrated.
As a kid, college football meant so much more to me than pro football, and not just because my family loved the Jets, who were actually decent at that point in time. Al Toon is still my favorite player ever. There was something different about college football that appealed to me. It was about more than million dollar contracts, labor strife, and winning at all costs.
Of course, looking back at those childish thoughts three-plus decades later only makes me shake my head in disgust. We’ve learned since about the seedy underbelly that loomed in college football throughout the same decade that I was falling in love with the sport.
Still, I never gave up on college football. It has remained my favorite sport to this day. I love the pageantry and the tailgating. I love the rivalries and the colorful mascots. In 2003, UConn opened up a brand new stadium and my high school friends and I had season tickets for the next 8 years, until the school gave up on the program. Those years were some of the best in my life, as those Saturday afternoons in that big parking lot were our home in the fall. Our wives and girlfriends and families and, eventually, children would join us.
College football has the appeal of bridging the gap between our past, our present, and our future. Times may change, but Alabama and Auburn are going to hate each other every day of the year. The players may change, but either Michigan or Ohio State is going to absolutely own the other for a decade.
Even in the late 1990’s, as conferences expanded, the conference title game became the norm, and the BCS arrived, the sport remained largely unchanged. There was more controversy than ever. The rivals still played.
The money, though, was getting too big to ignore. I previously wrote about how realignment killed the soul of college basketball, and it can now safely be said that it’s ruined college football too. Texas doesn't even play Texas A&M. How is that possible?
The warning signs have been there for years, but the COVID-19 pandemic exposed all of its faults, much like it has for our country as a whole.
Simply put, there are too many old white men making far too much money off the backs of unpaid, mostly Black, labor. The NCAA proved unable to rise to the moment. Conference commissioners have likewise come up small, focused on bottom lines in lieu of player’s health.
The past few weeks have had really had me struggling with the love of this sport. Reading athletic directors like Barry Alvarez write letters to donors begging for money because of how much revenue is lost, while completely disregarding the safety and well-being of players made me nauseous.
So you’re saying that the Wisconsin athletic department, which sought $100 million to update its basketball arena and football stadiums, is in a financial hole? Hmm, I wonder why that is.
I don’t mean to pick on Wisconsin. They aren’t the only ones. Schools across the nation have dumped hundreds of millions of dollars into facilities, stadiums, and the bank accounts of assistant coaches.
Just this month - this month! - Alabama gave assistant coach Steve Sarkisian a raise to $2.5 million per year. I read one account that said he’s “worth” every penny. The players are paid zero. Are they worth every penny too?
On top of all this, the racism that had largely lingered under the surface in college football has reached a boiling point. Colorado State suspended its football season due to two dozen players coming forward with allegations. Oklahoma State’s head coach wore an OANN shirt and outwardly supports our racist president. TCU’s head coach said the n-word at a practice. Iowa’s strength coach was fired and the program has come under fire for years of alleged systemic racism.
Even many college football fans seemed resigned to what the sport is all about. The Mid-American Conference and my UConn Huskies were the first programs to officially punt on the 2020 season, though the MAC is still holding out hope for a spring season. The comments were largely unified. Despite each entity saying the move was for player safety, everyone assumes it's due to the financial impact that playing would have. They might be right.
The worm finally turned over the weekend as college presidents, at least in the Big Ten, stepped in to say, “No more.” While MLB and the NFL are trying to play through a pandemic, those players are being paid plenty for assuming that risk. And if players in either sport opt-out, they still receive money, even if it’s far less than their contract value.
In college football, the players get nothing for opting out. At Washington State, a player’s conversation with his coach over his decision to opt out of the upcoming season resulted in him being threatened.
Any time I think we’re hitting a new low in the sport, we find a new bottom. It’s not the fault of the NCAA or conference commissioners that Republicans waged a war on science and masks that has allowed coronavirus to continue its spread through the country. It is their fault for not seeing this coming, like even I did as a fan, and prepare appropriately.
The college football media sunk to another new low itself on Sunday night, with reporters like Barrett Sallee who downplayed the virus for six months, now riding in to amplify the #WeWantToPlay messaging. Of course players want to play. But the smart people in charge need to make good decisions. Instead, these grown men, whose livelihoods depend on this unpaid labor, join forces to ensure this unpaid labor continues to provide it during a pandemic.
It turns out college football always was this gross and I just never noticed it. Now, I can’t look away.
This can’t be my favorite sport anymore unless things change dramatically. Paying the players would be a good first step.
My first very vivid memory of watching sports was New Year’s Day 1988, when Texas A&M embarrassed Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl and my Dad was not happy, to say the least. As a five year old, all I could think was, “why is Dad so mad when there’s so much football on?” My mother had even made little hot dogs. It felt like the best day of my life, even if Notre Dame got blown out.
As a kid, college football meant so much more to me than pro football, and not just because my family loved the Jets, who were actually decent at that point in time. Al Toon is still my favorite player ever. There was something different about college football that appealed to me. It was about more than million dollar contracts, labor strife, and winning at all costs.
Of course, looking back at those childish thoughts three-plus decades later only makes me shake my head in disgust. We’ve learned since about the seedy underbelly that loomed in college football throughout the same decade that I was falling in love with the sport.
Still, I never gave up on college football. It has remained my favorite sport to this day. I love the pageantry and the tailgating. I love the rivalries and the colorful mascots. In 2003, UConn opened up a brand new stadium and my high school friends and I had season tickets for the next 8 years, until the school gave up on the program. Those years were some of the best in my life, as those Saturday afternoons in that big parking lot were our home in the fall. Our wives and girlfriends and families and, eventually, children would join us.
Even in the late 1990’s, as conferences expanded, the conference title game became the norm, and the BCS arrived, the sport remained largely unchanged. There was more controversy than ever. The rivals still played.
The money, though, was getting too big to ignore. I previously wrote about how realignment killed the soul of college basketball, and it can now safely be said that it’s ruined college football too. Texas doesn't even play Texas A&M. How is that possible?
The warning signs have been there for years, but the COVID-19 pandemic exposed all of its faults, much like it has for our country as a whole.
Simply put, there are too many old white men making far too much money off the backs of unpaid, mostly Black, labor. The NCAA proved unable to rise to the moment. Conference commissioners have likewise come up small, focused on bottom lines in lieu of player’s health.
The past few weeks have had really had me struggling with the love of this sport. Reading athletic directors like Barry Alvarez write letters to donors begging for money because of how much revenue is lost, while completely disregarding the safety and well-being of players made me nauseous.
So you’re saying that the Wisconsin athletic department, which sought $100 million to update its basketball arena and football stadiums, is in a financial hole? Hmm, I wonder why that is.
I don’t mean to pick on Wisconsin. They aren’t the only ones. Schools across the nation have dumped hundreds of millions of dollars into facilities, stadiums, and the bank accounts of assistant coaches.
Just this month - this month! - Alabama gave assistant coach Steve Sarkisian a raise to $2.5 million per year. I read one account that said he’s “worth” every penny. The players are paid zero. Are they worth every penny too?
On top of all this, the racism that had largely lingered under the surface in college football has reached a boiling point. Colorado State suspended its football season due to two dozen players coming forward with allegations. Oklahoma State’s head coach wore an OANN shirt and outwardly supports our racist president. TCU’s head coach said the n-word at a practice. Iowa’s strength coach was fired and the program has come under fire for years of alleged systemic racism.
Even many college football fans seemed resigned to what the sport is all about. The Mid-American Conference and my UConn Huskies were the first programs to officially punt on the 2020 season, though the MAC is still holding out hope for a spring season. The comments were largely unified. Despite each entity saying the move was for player safety, everyone assumes it's due to the financial impact that playing would have. They might be right.
The worm finally turned over the weekend as college presidents, at least in the Big Ten, stepped in to say, “No more.” While MLB and the NFL are trying to play through a pandemic, those players are being paid plenty for assuming that risk. And if players in either sport opt-out, they still receive money, even if it’s far less than their contract value.
In college football, the players get nothing for opting out. At Washington State, a player’s conversation with his coach over his decision to opt out of the upcoming season resulted in him being threatened.
Any time I think we’re hitting a new low in the sport, we find a new bottom. It’s not the fault of the NCAA or conference commissioners that Republicans waged a war on science and masks that has allowed coronavirus to continue its spread through the country. It is their fault for not seeing this coming, like even I did as a fan, and prepare appropriately.
The college football media sunk to another new low itself on Sunday night, with reporters like Barrett Sallee who downplayed the virus for six months, now riding in to amplify the #WeWantToPlay messaging. Of course players want to play. But the smart people in charge need to make good decisions. Instead, these grown men, whose livelihoods depend on this unpaid labor, join forces to ensure this unpaid labor continues to provide it during a pandemic.
It turns out college football always was this gross and I just never noticed it. Now, I can’t look away.
This can’t be my favorite sport anymore unless things change dramatically. Paying the players would be a good first step.
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