CFN Archive: When The Cam Newton Story First Broke

To put to rest any notions of a purposeful anti-Auburn animus in my analysis and commentary, here's what I wrote on Nov. 4, 2010, when the Cam Newton story first broke:


"We knew that this season would continue to be wild, but not like this.


Obviously, a lot of investigating is going to take place in the coming weeks, with numerous twists and turns before the NCAA arrives at some sort of finish line. What can be said in the immediate aftermath of this breaking story is that the NCAA emperor is still without clothes.


Sure, there will be questions raised about whether Auburn’s wins against South Carolina and LSU will be vacated, which might have some sort of effect on how the 2010 SEC standings are formally recognized. Naturally, this episode – coming on the heels of Reggie Bush’s surrendered 2005 Heisman Trophy yet before Heisman ballots are sent out on November 15 – will make the political (not football-based, but political) likelihood of a Newton victory rather small, or at least much smaller than previously thought. And, of course, Auburn’s ability to compete in the BCS National Championship Game has been thrown into question, especially if the NCAA makes an unfavorable ruling in the time between the SEC Championship Game and January 10, 2011. There are all sorts of political and procedural minefields to be navigated in the coming weeks, and it’s far too premature to comment on any of those distinct yet interconnected dramas.


What can be said about L’Affaire Newton is that the notion of amateurism – which the NCAA continues to stubbornly hide behind – is being exposed even more as the sham it has been for a long time. Reggie Bush blew up the notion of pure and wholesome amateur athletics. Josh Luchs – in his still-recent admissions to George Dohrmann of Sports Illustrated (remember that?) – provided a veil-lifting look inside an entire industry and an established way of life among sports agents. Luchs took the individual story offered by Bush and turned it into an indictment of the sprawling athletic-industrial complex, a monstrously pervasive and all-consuming entity that makes a mockery of college sports’ pathetic attempts at maintaining the purity of uncompensated competition.


Let’s put this story in its proper perspective: Cameron Newton should be able to make the money that’s being generated by sales of his No. 2 Auburn jerseys. Newton is generating substantial sums of cash for Auburn by carrying this team to on-field success and prominence. In a truly market-based society that rewards the ability to create an attractive product people will pay for, Newton and other successful college athletes should be able to see a substantial percentage (if not all) of the income they generate. Instead, the NCAA tries to preserve the outdated and patently false notion that a scholarship is an appropriate level of compensation, along with the similarly absurd idea that jersey sales should not accrue to the bank account of the athlete who makes cash registers pop at sporting-goods stores and university bookstores.


It’s a waste of time and energy for a false, nonexistent and unattainable amateurism to be pursued and promoted – thereby forcing shady business dealings among agents, runners and (in North Carolina’s case) assistant coaches into the shadows – when college sports could be conducting these processes in the open, with sunlight and accountability flooding the landscape.


Yes, this is a bombshell development with potential real-world implications for the college football season, especially the national-title race and the Heisman competition. However, the big story is that the NCAA’s combination of hypocrisy and wrongheadedness is more apparent than ever before, with the business of collegiate athletics continuing to operate under the table instead of in a place where everyone can see it and – even more importantly – not regard it as a problem."

Instant Analysis: Oklahoma-Oklahoma State

One very long month ago, the Oklahoma Sooners were found flailing and floundering in Columbia, Missouri. The Crimson and Cream, who were shaky even in September, had not ironed out their problems or addressed their deficiencies. Landry Jones – a man whom OU blogger Allen Kinney has called “the Les Miles of quarterbacks,” a very apt description – proved to be utterly unreliable away from his home base in Norman. Coordinator Brent Venables watched in horror as his 11-man gang got blown away in the second half by Missouri’s offensive front. The Sooners were frail and flimsy, and when they lost another road game at Texas A&M early in November, this proud program felt itself clinging to nothing more than a thin rail of hope on the edge of Big 12 South title contention. The calls and cries were loud and familiar: “Big Game Bob has lost it; he’s no longer worthy of the name.”


Actually, Bob Stoops’s credentials and quality have been under fire for some time now. The cutthroat nature of the BCS system and the corrosive, negative attitudes it perpetuates have led the general public to regard Stoops as something of an underachiever. Losing in BCS bowls has come to be seen as a sin whose dimensions greatly exceed the virtues of winning a division or conference championship. Failures in January have led a considerable segment of the college football community to regard Stoops as something less than superb from January through November. This is at once both easy to understand and impossible to fathom. Of course one is aware of the reasons for such attitudes, but on a purely rational level, they make no sense. At any rate, those very same attitudes existed heading into Saturday night’s latest parade of wackiness known as the Bedlam Series. Two years after a 61-41 win on a late-November Saturday night in Stillwater, the OU crew did the deed again by a 47-41 score (slackers!).


How did Oklahoma pull through? Jones made several horrible decisions and throws in the first two and a half quarters, but he mastered the moment and torched Oklahoma State’s secondary for two home-run touchdowns that put his team in the win column. On the other side of the ball, it’s true that Oklahoma State did score 41 points, but the Cowboys notched only 27 of those points on offense (seven came on defense and seven more on special teams, with still more points being set up by OU miscues). Venables wasn’t vexed by OSU offensive coordinator Dana Holgorsen; the Cowboys involved their running backs a lot more on their first drive after halftime to score a touchdown on the Sooners’ defense, but after that march, the Pokes’ only other offensive touchdown came when OU played a prevent defense as the owner of a two-score lead with under five minutes left in regulation. The Sooners’ road-game credentials didn’t deserve to be trusted just because of one good game against Baylor, but in Boone Pickens Stadium, Bob Stoops had his team ready to play at its best.


And so, the narrative is a familiar one – not just in a Bedlam battle routinely won by the Sooners, but in the Big 12 South as a whole. Stoops arrived in Norman in 1999 and has now completed 12 seasons in the division. With a virtually-assured advantage in the forthcoming BCS standings, OU should win a three-team tiebreaker with Texas A&M and Oklahoma State, thereby earning the distinction of division champion for yet another year. When the matter becomes official on Sunday night, Stoops will claim his eighth division title in the past 11 seasons, thereby giving him a chance to snag a seventh Big 12 crown since he was brought aboard to lift Oklahoma out of its 1990s doldrums.


On the same day that North Carolina State coach Tom O’Brien failed – again – to win a division championship, Stoops reaffirmed his own ability to close the door, to steer his team to the winner’s circle. Pete Carroll is no longer around in the college game, but two other men matched the former USC coach in terms of owning their conferences with remarkable annual consistency. One of those men achieved a piece of the Big Ten title on Saturday: Jim Tressel of Ohio State. The other man is none other than Bob Stoops. All the man does is win. Moreover, he wins after enduring thick clouds of adversity in the earlier stages of a season. Oklahoma lost to Oregon and Texas in 2006 yet climbed the mountain and won at Oklahoma State to nail down the Big 12 South. OU lost to Texas in 2008 but never relented in its attempt to gain higher ground. The Sooners won at Oklahoma State to win the South yet again.


Now, here we are in 2010. Two ugly road losses have been overcome. Two months of growing pains were transformed into lasting lessons that bore fruit in the chill of late November. Bob Stoops is a division champion, and he’ll contest the final Big 12 title tilt against OU’s classic rival, the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Gee – seems like old times.


Big Game Bob has lost it? When? When did that ever happen? There’s another conference championship waiting to be decided, and once again, five Big 12 South schools will watch Oklahoma take the field against a Big 12 North foe. Seems as though Stoops knows exactly what he’s doing… and that he hasn’t lost the mustard on his coaching fastball by any stretch.

COLLEGE FOOTBALL AT WRIGLEY: Lost In The Vines

An Essay by Kevin Grandfield

Originally written November 20, 2010 (postgame)

LINK TO PHOTO SPREAD PRODUCED BY MR. GRANDFIELD

Wrigley Field is a beautiful sports venue. But I never go there. The hometown Chicago Cubs are always a disappointment. So, being a longtime Northwestern fan and new season-ticket holder, I jumped at the chance to go to the Northwestern-Illinois football game in the "Friendly Confines." Yet, the event turned out to be almost as disappointing as a Cubs game. Maybe it was because this Sunday's full moon is a rare type of "blue moon," but the experience was disorienting to the point of infringing on the enjoyment.

The planets began to align against this game as early as last week. When NU quarterback Dan Persa went out for the season with a ruptured Achilles tendon, you could begin to sense that it was not going to be the same NU team playing at Wrigley.

In fact, it almost seemed like the same game – the one we call football - would not be played at Wrigley. At the eleventh hour, the Big Ten ruled that all offensive drives would head toward the west end zone to avoid the dangerous brick wall immediately behind the east end zone (otherwise known as the right-field warning track in summertime). The conference said that the wall was not the required six feet from the end line; event organizers claimed it was two feet. Having seen it myself, I can tell you: The wall was inches away from the back of the end zone in some places. They had the plans drawn up for a year; how could they not see that earlier? But of course, the Big Ten Conference with eleven teams would also be the conference that brought you the 18-inch Stonehenge.

So the teams said all the right things about adjusting, the fans grumbled as their tickets on one 30-yard line turned to tickets on both 70–yard lines, and the game went on as planned.

ESPN even decided to base GameDay here, which was nice but no less disorienting than other things about the event. Normally, the traveling road show would never come to a game between two teams whose seasons had been so bipolar that you couldn't tell whether they were overachieving or underachieving. Both Illinois and Northwestern had first-year quarterbacks and roared off to unexpectedly strong starts (after Illinois's annual defeat at Missouri's hands). Then Illinois's defense went bye-bye for the last two games, and NU learned that it could stay undefeated by only playing the first halves of games.

However, the venue was apparently deemed special enough to trump these shaky teams. Wrigley is a place that draws sellout crowds to see the worst baseball franchise in history, so people would naturally fill it for the novelty of hosting its first college football game since DePaul beat St. Louis here in 1938.

A fair-sized crowd did show up, but it didn’t seem as big as I had been led to expect. El cars were crowded on the ride to the park (one girl said "clown car" as ours unloaded), but everyone got on. There are rush hours when you can't get in the first train that comes. There was a lot more space in the streets around Wrigley and more bars than the none (how’s that for a whopping number?) that exist in the immediate proximity of Ryan Field on the NU campus, so maybe the crowd was dispersed and hidden.

A see-through plastic tent had been set up along the length of Sheffield Avenue behind the right field bleachers, deemed "Wildcat Way." Once inside you were part of an extended python of humans that slithered north, the only direction possible. Halfway up was a beer vendor on one side, and a door leading out on the other side for a restroom break or – if you needed it – a claustrophobia break. All the way at the far end was a stage where the band played and various dignitaries were paraded across.

Obviously, there was a mostly pro-NU crowd on Wildcat Way, but on the streets the fans were fairly evenly mixed, and some were exactly – and literally - mixed. Somebody was selling hats with a purple "N" on one side and an orange "I" on the other, and I saw several of those. One man had a shirt (or had painted on his body, I couldn’t tell) that was half-purple and half-orange. Left to right, it read "Northwestinois."

One thing that was disorienting but welcome was how well the fans got along. Unlike the seething rage of the Iowa and Michigan State fans at home games I attended this year, the Illinois and NU fans merely chanted their own school's cheers. I suppose there are friends from the same high schools in this area who ended up at opposite schools (or even households) with relatives who went to each.

Our season tickets at Ryan Field are right behind a couple who have a daughter in NU's band and a daughter in Illinois's band. The woman in that couple is also Evan Watkins's cousin. Therefore, another disorienting and disappointing thing unique to me was that we would not be able to sit behind her when Evan got his big break.

Instead, we sat in the third-base end zone seats (this was and is the only game where you could describe a seat that way). This was the side where all scoring would occur. We were far up in the second tier of the lower level of seats, so the ceiling above us obscured the scoreboard, but we had a clear view of the field. TV monitors were set up so we could see the broadcast, which was delayed about five seconds. We had mostly NU fans around us, though there were some Illinois fans, and again both sets of people were very civil to each other. However, that just reinforced that this was not as intense a rivalry or as important a game as other contests played in less fantastic venues. It also might be a sign of how little a threat each program is to other programs in the Big Ten. To top it off: After playing for years for the Sweet Sioux Tomahawk, both teams were now playing for the more politically correct "Land of Lincoln Trophy," a bronzed stovepipe hat like the one Lincoln wore.

Then, with the preludes finally over, the game began. Wrigley's locker rooms, especially the visitor's room, are notoriously small, dank and distant, as they wind through many concrete tunnels. I wondered if we should check down there for pods. It was as though NU's defense didn’t even show up. In three plays, Illinois and Chief Leshoure-iwek covered 66 yards to score a touchdown.

On the ensuing possession, Watkins fumbled away the ball on a third-down dropback. NU quarterbacks make a name for themselves in NOT turning over the ball. Persa had one of the lowest numbers of interceptions in the nation before going down last week, as did Mike Kafka last year (before the Outback Bowl game against Auburn). Evan's fumble, therefore, was unusual enough. But then the refs and both teams walked to the other end of the field. That was the first application of the eleventh-hour rule, and a buzz went through the audience trying to figure out what was going on. Because it happened on a turnover first (as opposed to a punt), it only added to the mystery swirling around the old ballyard.

Illinois drove for another touchdown in only six plays and was up 14-0 before we could even get used to the fact that we went to a baseball field and a football game broke out. But wait - Eddie McGee of Illinois thought that NU safety Brian Peters was one of his receivers. The benign McGee, courtesy of a hand-delivered pick-six, gave Peters immortality as the first and last man to score a touchdown in the east right-field end zone at Wrigley.

After Northwestern's "Iron Sieve" defense held enough (or Illinois's offense self-destructed enough) that the Illini only produced a field goal after recovering Adonis Smith's fumble, Mike Trumpy - a stocky, bruising running back - tore 80 yards past the speedy Illinois secondary for a touchdown.

By this point, my head was swirling as much as the lake winds around the park. The two teams traded moments of ineptitude until the score was tied with only a minute to go until the half. But a minute was enough. Illinois marched down through NU’s "Red Sea" defense and got a field goal to re-seize momentum it would never relinquish.

At halftime, I joined many people in walking around the stadium soaking in the atmosphere—or just trying to make sense of it all. Everyone had that look of people pinching themselves to make sure they were not dreaming. The sun had set and the fact that we were now in a lit stadium after watching only one half of football in daylight was also disconcerting, especially for an NU season ticket holder like myself because almost ALL of NU's starts are 11 o'clock kickoffs.

That setting sun also cooled everything off. Most fans had marveled that the weather could be a lot worse on the third Saturday of November in Chicago. It was sunny and mid-40s in the afternoon, but by the middle of the third quarter, when Illinois had the game firmly in hand, the temperatures had dropped significantly and the lake winds were fierce. Our seats were in a middle tier that sloped away from the field and had a roof over our heads supporting the upper deck. It acted like an air spoiler on the back of a car and channeled the wind through our section. I'd put the wind chill in the teens. The crowd began to thin visibly by the start of the fourth quarter.

The game and event limped to their conclusion, and all of the expectations for the possibilities of the game had turned into realities that seemed hard to fathom as everyone trickled out of the stadium. Did the crowd feel as excited about the event as the media did? Did we just watch a game where both teams went the same direction? Did the loser and winner respectively beat Iowa and lose to Minnesota just last week? Will NU find ways to succeed with Watkins, and (or?) will Persa come back just as strong next year? Is Illinois really on its way back to prominence? Did we just see the last college football game ever played in Wrigley Field?

For the answers to these questions and more (say it with me Cub fans) … "Wait til next year."

Weekly Affirmation Archive: Guest Columnist Jarod Daily

Part I: Bowl Game Architecture: Ways To Reshape The Process


Raising the Level of Second-Tier Bowl Games


By Jarod Daily, Guest Columnist – Special to CFN


Find and follow Mr. Daily on Twitter: twitter.com/jadaily



The doling out of BCS berths isn't the only place where college football could use a little flexibility. Years ago, all of the other bowl games locked themselves into static agreements that on occasion led to stagnant matchups between mediocre teams from automatic-qualifying conferences, while great teams from non-autobid conferences — and sometimes excellent teams from some of the less-respected members of the AQs — had to settle for second- or third-tier postseason bowl matchups against vastly inferior opponents. In a few cases, this has led to an inflated postseason record because all of a conference's teams played against consistently overmatched opponents rather than teams of equal quality (see the Big East and Mountain West bowl records over the past half-decade).



After the five BCS games, a handful of other bowl games are rich in prestige, history, respect, payout, game date, and usually the quality of both teams. The Cotton, Capital One, Outback, Gator, Chick-Fil-A and Holiday bowls definitely fall into this category, and the Alamo Bowl seems to have made some power plays aimed at moving into that respectable second tier of bowl games. Also, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the Sun Bowl, with its history (as old as the Orange and Sugar bowls, and older than all others but the Rose, including the Cotton) ought to be considered at that level too, if only it could secure better matchups a bit more often.



But every year, one or more of that handful of bowls gets a stinker of a game. Now, with high choices out of the SEC and the Big Ten, the Capital One Bowl shouldn't have that problem, but the Jan. 1, 2010, edition of the game was a pretty ugly affair between LSU and Penn State. And let's not forget — though we may want to — the Dec. 31, 2008 Sun Bowl between Oregon State and Pittsburgh, a 3-0 snoozer won by the Beavers. The previous Sun Bowl wasn't much better; Oregon trampled South Florida 56-21.



The problem is that these bowls have extended contracts, with few or no exceptions, involving conferences that can vastly fluctuate in quality from year to year. If there's an 11-1 or 12-0 team from the WAC, Mountain West, Conference USA, MAC or Sun Belt that doesn't get in the BCS — and it looks rather likely that the loser of the Boise State-Nevada and TCU-Utah games, and perhaps also the winner of the latter, will fall into this category this year — those teams are locked into lower-tier bowls with low payouts against inferior opponents before Christmas. Meanwhile, the Outback Bowl is able to get a 7-5 SEC team into its January 1 spotlight against a 10-2 Big Ten team. Why can't we see some deals like this: Let’s say that TCU is 11-1 or better and ranked in the top 15. The Cotton Bowl can invite the Horned Frogs instead of either a Big 12 or SEC team (provided that no 10-win team is available from one of those conferences)? Or maybe, as an option, one could put a Boise State, Nevada or BYU that qualifies into the Sun or Holiday? Similarly, could we place a strong C-USA champ into one of the East Coast bowls like the Outback, Chick-Fil-A or Gator?



There's actually a pretty simple way to solve this: partially imitating the very same BCS system that makes us argue so much throughout the season. It's time to group some of the second- (and third-) tier bowls by quality, prestige, and other measures, and ensure that good teams play other good teams in good bowl games. One should focus on that second tier of bowls listed above (Capital One, Outback, Gator, Cotton, Chick-Fil-A, Sun, Holiday, Alamo), but ideally we might be able to set up several tiers with the same concept. Take those eight bowls (the exact configuration would certainly be up for discussion), give them each an "anchor" conference (or perhaps two choices for an anchor; for example, the Capital One could pick either a Big Ten or an SEC team as its anchor team when it comes time to extend bowl bids, or the Cotton could go with the Big 12 or the SEC, so it can have dibs on Arkansas as an old Southwest Conference team) and leave the other berth in each game as an at-large spot. Then stipulate that at-large bids should generally be extended to ranked teams with 10 or 11 wins before they go to any 8- or 9-win teams from the AQ conferences.


We can call this system the Bowl Alliance... er, Bowl Coalition... um, well, we'll have to work on the name. But like those BCS predecessors, it would be a pretty loose grouping. Payouts would not be pooled; the process would have fairly simple and pretty fluid selection rules; and bowls would simply be encouraged to promote the best possible games, while being contractually obligated to not leave the very best teams, regardless of conference affiliation, to play grossly inferior opponents, creating poor matchups for fans, viewers, and sponsors.



This way, we might see something like Stanford-Nevada in this year's Holiday Bowl, TCU-Texas in the Cotton Bowl, or Utah-Arizona in the Sun Bowl. You can't say there aren't plenty of people out there who want to see some of those matchups. Also, this system would allow a 9-3 or 10-2 Notre Dame (or the Big East runner-up) a better game than the Champs Sports Bowl.



This would also ensure we don't get a stinker like Nevada-Central Michigan in the Humanitarian Bowl or TCU-Arizona State in the Las Vegas Bowl. It would help some of those next-to-the-top-tier bowl games avoid being obligated to pick 7-5 teams just because that's all a conference has left. Looking into the crystal ball, it's tough to see the SEC — if it gets two BCS berths — having enough really good teams to fill its bids for the Chick-Fil-A, Capital One, Outback, Cotton and Gator bowls without turning to at least one 7-5 team (Auburn played in last year's Outback Bowl at 7-5 and won an instant classic over 8-4 Northwestern). None of these bowls would be stuck with a 7-5 team under this system.



Anyway, it's just a thought, one that could improve the quality of each bowl game and boost ratings. Actually, it's just one of several potential solutions. Bottom line: The rigidity of college football extends to all facets and corners of the sport, and it really keeps this American cultural treasure from surpassing even its current levels of greatness.

Coaching Comedy

Tell me if you've seen or heard any of these stories before:

Ron Zook displaying unconscionable stupidity and timidity by failing to go for a first down in the middle of the fourth quarter.

Tom O'Brien displaying the very same (Zookian) qualities with his jawdropping (well, not really) punt on fourth-and-one at the Clemson 43 with roughly three minutes left in a game his North Carolina State team TRAILED?

Greg Robinson coaching defense. (Says it all, doesn't it?)

Dan Hawkins presiding over a fourth-quarter train wreck against a Big 12 foe he should beat.

Jimbo Fisher failing to handle his timeouts properly in the fourth quarter of a tight game.

Dabo Swinney looking on in horror as his Clemson offense and special teams implode on several different levels.

Cal looking awful on the road. (The Bears won, but only because they were playing Washington State. Any other Pac-10 team would have drummed Cal out of town by at least 14 points.)

Missouri and Gary Pinkel forfeiting a good September and October with a November nosedive.

Steve Spurrier failing to get his South Carolina players to show more mental toughness than a bowl of soggy cereal.

Dennis Erickson failing to turn around a talented but enigmatic Arizona State quarterback, leading to yet another stomach-punch road loss.

Neil Callaway of UAB taking one great week of work and throwing it down the drain with a stink-bomb the very next week.

Vanderbilt having no clue what to do on special teams, a sign of very poor attention to detail on the part of the coaching staff.

Pat Fitzgerald watching in anguish as his Northwestern team yet again squanders a perfectly outstanding first half by shriveling in the second half (and giving up a last-minute touchdown just before halftime to get the bad juju flowing).

Some of the above examples represent genuinely bad coaching; other examples merely illustrate how consistently some credentialed men have failed to change the subcultures at their programs. In any case, it remains a point of perpetual fascination that so many of the same programs and coaches display so many of the same tendencies in losing causes.

When Tom O'Brien wins a conference championship with bold playcalling; when Ron Zook doesn't shy away from grabbing the brass ring; when Jimbo Fisher uses his timeouts wisely; and when Missouri puts its foot down in the final five weeks of a season, you'll know something has changed.

Michigan State has achieved a culture shift. So, too, have Oregon (dating back to last year), Central Florida, Stanford, Louisville, Syracuse, and a few other programs if you look hard enough. However, for most teams and coaches, the more things change, the more they stay the same. College football is strange - strangely beguiling - that way.

Monday Morning Quarterback Archive - November 1, 2010

Fourth Down Prelude: Beyond Just The Red Zone

The MMQ concerns himself with college football and doesn’t much like the pros, but NFL football makes for acceptable background noise on Monday night while researching college football stats and looking ahead to the next week of games. During last week’s New York-Dallas game, it was surprising to see such disbelief expressed on the internet when the Cowboys, trailing 38-20, went for it on fourth down and goal from the Giants’ 6-yard line with under nine minutes left in regulation. One could question the decision, but just barely; only when the game is still relatively young (first half) should a team kick a field goal when trailing by 18 or more points.

Shortly after seeing a number of comments burying Wade Phillips (who normally makes brutally bad strategic moves, but not in that case… ironically because his team was getting its butt kicked so badly), the MMQ then looked on in horror while looking through play-by-play logs from week eight’s games. Late in the third quarter of the Indiana-Illinois game, Hoosier coach Bill Lynch – with his team trailing 29-10 – kicked a field goal on fourth-and-goal from the Illini 4 to make the score 29-13. Yeesh.

From those two examples alone, it certainly appears that Football Nation – whether it’s a coach in Bloomington, Indiana, or collections of fans across this country – needs a primer on decision making in the red zone on fourth-down situations in which the distance to make ranges from 1.6 yards to five yards. It’s time to hit a football equivalent of the Billboard Top 40 and pull out the charts over the next few weeks. This week, we’ll deal with situations pertaining to teams that are leading in the second half (both early and late).

Let’s set up and frame this discussion by establishing a few underlying points:

1) If a team faces six inches or fewer for a first down at ANY point on the field at ANY stage of a game, only a few considerations can ever justify a decision to not pursue a first down or touchdown. Any self-respecting offense should be able to gain six inches or fewer at any time. Only if a normal punt ensures (or comes close to ensuring) the denial of points – as would be the case in the final 30 seconds of a half – should a team punt on fourth-and-one-inch from its own 15, for instance. Only if a team trails by one to three points in the final minute of a game should it kick a field goal on fourth-and-one-inch from an opponent’s 15. The idea should be appreciably clear.

SIDE NOTE UNRELATED TO TOUCHDOWN/FIELD GOAL DECISIONS IN PARTICULAR: Lane Kiffin of USC, while perhaps not facing inches-to-go situations against Oregon, should have been relentless in going for it on fourth down from every point on the field this past Saturday. The teams and coaches who play Oregon and - for that matter - Auburn must play outside the box and ignore conventional wisdom unless their defenses are elite enough to contain the Ducks (or the Tigers). Kiffin, perhaps still thinking that it was okay to lose by a reasonable margin to Oregon (since he was indeed happy to lose by 10 points to Florida in 2009), did not treat this game like the bowl game many thought it would be for USC. Kiffin needed to treat series inside his own 25-yard line as four-down series, at least once it became apparent that Oregon wouldn't be limited to under 30 points. Is it normal to go for it on fourth-and-one from the 15? Of course not. Is Oregon a normal opponent that demands normal responses and actions? No - and that's precisely the point. -M.Z.

2) If the fourth-down distance is anywhere from seven inches to 1.5 yards, the standards for eschewing a first-down or touchdown attempt are not as high, but they still merit attention and discernment, especially as the distance increases. Any situation in which a team faces fourth-and-1.3-yards inside its own 30 would actually demand a punt unless the situation was particularly urgent for the offensive team – there’s little doubt about that particular point.

3) If a team faces a fourth-down situation in which the distance to make is beyond five yards, the first 60 yards of the field should offer due cause to punt the ball unless the scoreboard demands otherwise. If a team faces fourth-and-six from an opponent’s 43 in a one-score game in the third quarter, it should normally punt unless a specific aspect of the game flow is clearly working against its defense, or something to that effect.

4) Teams should very rarely punt inside an opponent’s 40-yard line. A unique time-and-score situation or a daunting fourth-down distance to make for a first down (nine yards or more, but not the five-to-eight range, coverable with a basic slant, out, or sit-down pass route) can justify a punt from an opponent’s 38, but any appreciably moderate fourth-down distance should demand an attempt to achieve something on offense (if not a long field goal in the event that the scoreboard makes a field goal valuable).

And now, let’s indeed hit those charts, with a specific focus on red-zone situations, not the entirety of the football field.

Generic Charts For Red-Zone Fourth-Down Situations With 1.6 to 5 Yards To Make For A First Down Or Touchdown

Chart No. 1: When Leading in the First 22-24 Minutes Of The Second Half (Within The Second Half Until The Midway Point Of The Fourth Quarter)

GENERAL PRINCIPLES THAT APPLY TO NEARLY ALL FOURTH-DOWN SITUATIONS: The closer a team is to the goal line, the more a team should consider going for the touchdown or first down; the closer to the 20-yard line (i.e., the front boundary of the red zone and not the back boundary), the more a team should lean toward the field goal; if this situation occurs earlier in the second half, one should lean more toward the field goal and bank points for the endgame phase; if this situation occurs toward the end of this game range – near the 10-minute mark of the fourth quarter – the more a team should consider the aggressive approach and go for the first down or touchdown.

Plus 1 point – Seek the touchdown or first down in a high-scoring game or in the face of an excellent offensive opponent; seek the field goal in a low-scoring game or in the face of a poor offensive opponent. Similarly, seek the touchdown if your offense is your team’s best strength, and seek the field goal if your offense is weak and/or if your defense is strong. In a college football context, this means that you would more likely seek a touchdown against Oregon, Navy and Auburn, while leaning toward a field goal against Vanderbilt, UCLA and Boston College. The chance to get to an eight-point margin is significant because it forces the opposing coach to determine if he must chase a point before the final few minutes of regulation time. Moreover, even if you get three points here, the other team will get substantially better field position after the ensuing kickoff. Also, another field goal after a four-point lead gets you to a seven-point advantage, NOT the eight- or nine-point “magic margins” that either force an opponent to go for two or (even better) come up with two scores. On the other hand, a seven-point margin is definitely better than five or six.

Plus 2 points – Lean more toward a field goal than you would if leading by only one point. After gaining a five-point lead with a field goal here, a team could establish an eight-point margin with another field goal. Moreover, getting a five-point margin forces the other team to risk (prematurely) going for two if it gets a touchdown. A subsequent failure of your opponent’s two-point try can wind up giving you a key extra point that you can bring to the table in the fourth quarter.

Plus 3 – Either approach works well in this situation; if it’s the kind of game in which it seems that more touchdowns are likely to be scored, go for the first down or touchdown; if you sense that defenses are tightening and that you have a handle on the other team’s offense, kick the field goal. Because of your three-point lead, a field goal cannot give your opponent the lead. Therefore, you are in position to be uniquely aggressive here. On the other hand, if you go up by six points in this situation and then add another field goal (just like the above scenario), you’re nine points ahead. Kicking a field goal up by three sets you up nicely for a two-possession advantage even without the benefit of a touchdown.

Plus 4 – field goal. Four to seven points is a no-brainer. Getting to a point where a touchdown cannot beat you (and can only tie you) is too important to ignore.

Plus 5 – field goal. This is one of the “magic margin makers.” If you can get to eight or nine points, you reach a coveted position of added scoreboard leverage. At eight points – which is relevant here with the five-point spread and a pending field-goal attempt – you don’t just lead by one possession; you lead by “one possession plus.” An opponent doesn’t have a nearly automatic PAT to tie you, but must instead convert a dicey 2-point conversion to catch you on the scoreboard. That’s why a field goal when leading by five is always a sound decision.

Plus 6 – field goal. All the reasons that apply to the above example only apply even more fully when leading by six points. Crossing the “possession threshold” from a one-score lead to a two-score lead (six to nine points) makes this a nearly automatic decision under any circumstance.

Plus 7 – field goal. This move also increases your lead from one to two possessions, and if you fail on a fourth-down attempt, you still know that you can’t get beaten with a touchdown and a PAT. Going for it in this situation has a certain degree of logic, despite the basic math. However, the math still wins out in the end.

Plus 8 – Consider going for the touchdown or first down if this situation emerges earlier in the second half or if you’re facing a turbo-charged offense such as the one fielded by Oregon. However, one should kick the field goal if this situation emerges near the midway point of the fourth quarter or if a team’s opponent has a poor (Boston College-level) offense. Eight to 11 points technically satisfies the criterion of a change in a possession threshold from one score to two, but on the other hand, an eight-point lead is “one possession plus,” which means that this is a smaller possession-threshold change than the shift from six to nine points or the shift from seven to 10 points. When you examine this situation, a change of eight to 11 really doesn’t do all that much. In fact, it might lead a team to think that it won’t need a two-point try.

Consider this simple scenario: If you go up 11 and your opponent then gets a touchdown and PAT to trim your lead to just four, you can go up by seven points with an additional field goal of your own. As a result of these events, you’re up just one possession, and your opponent, while not being able to beat you with a touchdown, does have the benefit of not needing a two-pointer just to tie you. Going for a touchdown here can get you to a 15-point spread, where you not only force a team to get two touchdowns, but at least one 2-point try. This is definitely a situation in which to be aggressive: With an eight-point lead, you’re already in a spot where your opponent is in need of a conversion just to tie you.

Plus 9 – Consider the touchdown/first down against elite offenses or in high-scoring games; consider the field goal more against weak offenses or in low-scoring games. Extending from nine points to 12 achieves a much bigger change in terms of the scoreboard calculus – it forces an opponent to score two touchdowns, so if this situation occurs with roughly 10 minutes left in the fourth quarter, the field goal is increasingly valuable. However, it must also be said here that with a nine-point lead, you’re already up by two scores and therefore enjoy a cushion. You are in a position where you can afford to be aggressive. Moreover, if you get the first down or touchdown, your team can then attain a 16-point margin. If leading by eight points is “one possession plus,” a 16-point lead – while technically just two possessions – is very nearly as good as a three-possession lead because of the fact that converting two 2-point conversions carries appreciably longer odds than converting only one of them. A 16-point deficit is a real pain in the neck for the trailing team.

Plus 10 – If you have a great offense that you trust, or if you’re deeply uncertain of your defense’s ability to stop your opponent’s offense, you should go for the first down or touchdown here, especially in the early stages of the second half. As you move toward the midway point of the fourth quarter, you should lean more toward the field goal. This is certainly a situation in which a coach should be attuned to his personnel and on-field matchups. As a favorite, a coach should probably choose the field goal, since it will set him up to further extend his lead to 16 with a second field goal. On the other hand, another coach might want to go for it and extend his lead from 10 to 17 with one play, thereby putting the game out of reach by acquiring a three-possession bulge. Strong arguments exist for either side of thought. It should be said that in this position, a coach has good options to choose from; if he makes a questionable decision here (as opposed to, let’s say, a three-point lead), the consequences are not as severe; hence, the level of criticism should not be as forceful.

Plus 11 – Seek the field goal in almost every circumstance. Much like going from up four to up seven, a field goal here ensures that a team is not susceptible to defeat with two touchdowns; that’s a safe place to be. Moreover, because a 12-point lead already means that an opponent must score two touchdowns, it is here – with an 11-point lead – that a field goal is actually more valuable.

Plus 12 – field goal. You force a team to get at least one 2-point conversion by extending to 15 with a field goal.

Plus 13 – field goal. This is also a more valuable field goal than a three-pointer kicked with a 12-point lead. If you reach a 16-point margin and force a team to get two 2-point conversions, you are – as stated earlier – leading by more than just two possessions in a certain sense (albeit not technically).

Plus 14 – field goal. Being able to reach a 17-point (three-possession) margin carries undeniable and overwhelming value.

Plus 15 or more – field goal. Just collect points and have them add up on your side. If your opponent makes a late comeback, you’ll be glad you “stashed points away in storage.”

Now, let’s see what situations change as the fourth quarter moves along.

Chart No. 2: When Leading With 4 to 8 Minutes Left In The Fourth Quarter

This is when you don’t need to know the math (which has already been explained in the above chart) so much as the expectations of what your opponent can achieve as the clock ticks down to the final four minutes of regulation time. Situations here can’t be treated as generically as they would be in the third quarter or the first few minutes of the fourth quarter. We’ll provide more specific examples, of course; as always, it makes a huge difference if you’re playing Oregon’s offense or Vanderbilt’s offense, and if you’re playing Oklahoma State’s defense or TCU’s defense.

Plus 1 point – Seek a touchdown or first down against Oregon’s offense or Oklahoma State’s defense, and a field goal against Vanderbilt’s offense or TCU’s defense. Seek a touchdown or first down as the distance to make decreases, especially less than two and a half yards, and seek a field goal if the distance to make is three yards or more. Seek a touchdown the closer you are to the goal line, and seek a field goal the closer you are to the 20. Seek the touchdown the closer you are to the four-minute mark of regulation time, and seek the field goal if you’re closer to the eight-minute mark in the fourth quarter.

EXAMPLE No. 1: If faced with fourth-and-five from the 19 against Oregon’s offense or OSU’s defense with at least five minutes left, kick the field goal and get to the four-point margin, realizing that you will probably get the ball back and would need only a field goal to tie should you give up a touchdown on your ensuing defensive possession. The fact that you’d be facing a poor defense would elevate your chances of getting that tying field goal.

EXAMPLE No. 2: If faced with fourth down and 1.7 yards to go from the 3 against Vanderbilt’s offense or TCU’s defense with 7:30 left, go for the first down/touchdown. When considering red-zone decisions, the end of the red zone (the front end, near the 20, or the back end, near the goal line) certainly matters, as does the distance to make. If you’re inside the 5 and the distance to make is two yards or fewer, your position of increased leverage not only justifies, but strongly encourages, a more aggressive approach. If you fail, you still have the opposition – with a poor offense – pinned inside its own 5. If you consider your own offense to be appreciably good, this is precisely the kind of situation in which you must trust your offensive unit to do something special and get an eight-point lead, which would put an opponent on the ropes.

Plus 2 points – Seek a touchdown or first down against Cameron Newton in accordance with the principles established above: namely, being closer to the goal line, with a distance to make that is less than 2.5 yards, near the four-minute mark of regulation. Seek a field goal against Boston College’s offense in accordance with the principles established above: namely, being closer to the 20, with a distance to make of three to five yards, near the eight-minute mark of regulation.

The important point to establish here is that a coach should be much more aggressive with a two-point lead than with a one-point lead, for the simple reason that a touchdown pushes a lead to nine points, and hence, two scores. If you have a good chance to go up nine against Auburn with four minutes left, you should definitely pursue the first down and touchdown on fourth-and-two from the 3. The reward outstrips the risk. If you’re closer to the eight-minute mark and you know you have a good offense, perhaps you should take the three points, go up by five, and see what your defense is made of. Generally, though, a coach should not leave the door open to defeat at the hands of a brilliant superstar quarterback. If you’re appreciably close to registering that kill shot, do it. You’re in a much better position to achieve said kill shot if you’re leading by two points rather than one.

Plus 3 – Seek a touchdown or first down in most circumstances; fourth-and-five from the 20 with seven minutes left would be an obvious exception.

Why is the three-point spread different from the one- or two-point spreads? Very simply, a field goal cannot beat you. Therefore, armed with that bit of leverage, the value of kicking a field goal diminishes as the endgame phase approaches. Michigan State, down by six after a Northwestern field goal, took a late 28-27 lead against the Wildcats on Oct. 23, en route to a 35-27 win. Wisconsin, down by six after an Iowa field goal, scored a late touchdown to nudge the Hawkeyes on that same afternoon, 31-30. The value of a touchdown far exceeds the negative consequences of a fourth-down failure in the latter stages of a three-point game; conversely, the value of a field goal is very small in comparison with the benefits that can be gained from a touchdown in such a situation. If coaches don’t handle this particular situation properly, they deserve a heightened level of criticism. Handling a one- or two-point lead is an entirely different circumstance in which caution is much more acceptable.

Plus 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, or 9 points – Seek the field goal in almost all circumstances. Only if the prospect of overtime represents a uniquely worrisome or alarming situation should a coach go for the touchdown with a four-point lead. With a lead of anywhere from five to nine points, a field goal is a no-brainer at an advanced stage of the fourth quarter.

Plus 10 – Seek the touchdown or first down if you’re playing Oregon’s offense or Cam Newton, provided that the yard line and the down-and-distance situations are manageable, in accordance with previously-established parameters (under 2.5 yards to go, inside the 5, closer to the four-minute mark of the fourth quarter). Seek the field goal if you’re playing UCLA’s offense or must face LSU’s defense.

Similar to the calculus involved in a three-point game, this is a situation in which coaches can afford to be aggressive, and therefore press the issue. A touchdown and a field goal by the opponent cannot lead to a defeat, while the scoring of a touchdown in this situation creates a 17-point (three-possession) lead. The rewards of success outstrip the consequences of failure, even though adding a field goal can certainly not be viewed as a “bad” decision.

Plus 11 or more – field goal, end of story.


APPENDIX: When Leading With Under 4 Minutes Left In The Fourth Quarter

As a game winds its way toward a conclusion, a few basic points need to be understood: First, decisions made with leads of four points or more are almost always going to be field-goal decisions, so they really don’t need to be discussed. Second, a three-point lead will almost always demand an aggressive approach unless the down-and-distance situation is as bad as it can be (fourth-and-five from the 20 or something close to it). Third, an opponent’s offensive quality, combined with its amount of remaining timeouts, will substantially affect the nature of any decision made within the final two minutes of regulation. This is especially true of Auburn, a team with a fantastic running quarterback, but a player (Cam Newton) who has not led a winning two-minute drill propelled primarily by the passing game.

Let’s deal with some specific situations, then: If you lead Auburn by one or two points with only 1:30 left, and the Tigers lack any timeouts, kick the field goal and force Newton to march the length of the field in a classic hurry-up/no-huddle mode. If Auburn has all three timeouts left with 1:30 to go and you’re facing a fourth-and-two from the 4, go for the first down/touchdown and plunge the dagger into the gut, not giving Newton a chance to use the running game and then burn timeouts after open-field runs. The larger rationale should be clear: The weaker your opponent is – either in its ability to throw the ball or in its ability to stop the clock – the more you should kick the field goal when leading by only one or two points in the final minutes of regulation. The stronger your opponent is, the more you need to consider going for the first down or touchdown to win the game right then and there.

There are exceptions to the rule, of course. Take Oregon, for instance.

With 3:15 left and a one-point lead against Oregon’s offense, you’re in a tricky spot. Oregon can score so quickly that you might get the ball back. Interestingly enough, Oregon might be in more of a comfort zone if you lead the Ducks (by one point) with 1:40 left than with 3:15 left. Darron Thomas could lead a typical 95-second scoring drive within normal rhythms and leave no time on the scoreboard for your offense. Therefore, it might paradoxically make more sense to kick a field goal and grab a four-point lead on Oregon with 1:40 left, not 3:15 left. Protecting yourself against an Oregon field goal carries more weight near the end of the game. This runs counter to the notion that you should go for kill shots as you approach the end of regulation time; Oregon demands counter-intuitive thinking. This is not to say that kicking a field goal when leading the Ducks by a point with 3:15 left is dumb; it only means that it makes less sense than kicking the same field goal with 1:40 left. Against most teams, it makes more sense to go for it on fourth-and-two from the 3 in a one-point game with 1:40 left; Oregon would definitely be an exception to the rule.

The Weekly Affirmation For October 28, 2010 - Week Eight in Review

The need for clear, defined, universally-accepted standards is this week's essay topic. Add a gallon of subjective heft, and you have this week's Affirmation, brought to you in special "wilderness blog format" while College Football News's Scout.com server goes haywire. If ever a technological issue rears its ugly head, I'll just post stories here so you can read them... at Matt Zemek's College Football Emergency Center.

On with the show, and the Affirmation...


Part I: The Subjective Heft Show


Subjective statement: Rick Neuheisel, who ran into off-field problems at Colorado and Washington, is now committing another offense: He’s stealing money.


Objective support: It’s year three of the Neuheisel era in Westwood, and after a lay-down-and-die performance against Oregon in which Neuheisel kicked a field goal inside the 10-yard line when trailing 15-0, he clearly doesn’t trust anything about his offense. What are he and Norm Chow doing? More importantly, why are the Bruins not overtaking an NCAA-wounded USC program by any clear or demonstrable measure?


Subjective statement: Any Big East prediction or projection column, at least at this point in time, isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. Find some other, fresher story ideas over the next five weeks, please?


Objective support: Syracuse 19, West Virginia 14, in Morgantown… AFTER West Virginia scored 14 first-quarter points; South Florida 38, Cincinnati 30, in Cincinnati, AFTER South Florida scored not one touchdown in its previous two conference games; Syracuse is 2-1 and has won its two conference games this year despite a COMBINED TOTAL of 192 passing yards in those two games; Syracuse has been outscored by 22 points in Big East play and is averaging just 15.3 points per (conference) game.


Subjective statement: Say what you want about the scandals and the lack of institutional control – it was clearly bad – but Pete Carroll’s body of work at USC just looks better and better when you judge it on the raw merits. Seven-season runs of sustained excellence just don’t happen all the time. Appreciate what you have when it exists.


Objective support: Iowa State 28, Texas 21. In Austin… in a game ISU led 28-6.


Subjective statement: Jeff Tedford is an overrated coach and is so-so on the raw merits; Kirk Ferentz is a much better coach than Tedford, but he’s probably the most overrated upper-tier coach in college football. He’s very good, but not the elite of the elite.


Objective support: Ferentz has never won an outright Big Ten championship at Iowa, and after losing to Wisconsin, his team must win out to have a chance of going to the Rose Bowl. Moreover, Iowa’s early-season loss to Arizona means that Iowa must win out to get any BCS bowl bid at all. A 9-3 mark, given the strength of Michigan State, Wisconsin and Ohio State, will spell “O-U-T-B-A-C-K-B-O-W-L” for a team that had genuine national-title aspirations at the beginning of the season.


Subjective statement: Tom O’Brien never won a conference title at Boston College, and the Weekly Affirmation knocks him around from time to time. However, it’s not as though the man was a bum; it’s high time to give O’Brien credit for the good things he did in New England.


Objective support: Maryland 24, Boston College 21… in Chestnut Hill.


Subjective statement: Jeff Jagodzinski is a certifiable idiot for not respecting Boston College Athletic Director Gene DeFilippo.


Objective support: Maryland 24, Boston College 21… in Chestnut Hill (and don’t forget to mention Raheem Morris, too, but that’s pro stuff, we don’t concern ourselves with that).


Subjective statement: Want to really rip a team other than Boise State or, along other lines, somebody like LSU or Oklahoma that’s good but could be so much better? Want to tear into a program that plays far below expectations and does the kinds of things that warrant genuine displeasure? Travel to Tempe.


Objective support: California and Jeff Tedford 50, Arizona State 17… with 14 of ASU’s points coming from defense and special teams. Yeah.


Subjective statement: Utah and BYU were right to leave the Mountain West Conference.


Objective support: You could not find last week’s Air Force-TCU Mountain West Game Of The Week on a widely-accessible cable channel or broadcast network. This week, while ESPN2 serves up Colorado-Oklahoma (what?!?) in prime time, you will not find the Utah-Air Force Mountain West Game Of The Week on a widely-accessible channel or broadcast network. And you wonder how realignment will continue to unfold in the coming years?


Subjective statement: As important as coaching is in football, and especially at the collegiate level, great players – over the passage of time – emerge as the real reason behind their coaches’ successes.


Objective support: Danny Wuerffel and Tim Tebow at Florida; Vince Young and Colt McCoy at Texas; Robert Griffin III at Baylor (after missing most of last year with an injury); Cameron Newton at Auburn; Marcus Lattimore at South Carolina; Josh Heupel, Jason White and Sam Bradford at Oklahoma; David Greene and David Pollack at Georgia; Pat White at West Virginia.


Subjective statement: Wisconsin is one of the five most underappreciated programs in major college football.


Objective support: The Badgers have won at least nine games in every season but one since 2004.


Subjective statement: A Northwestern diploma is overvalued.


Objective support: Ladies and gentlemen, the 2010 Northwestern football team, snookered on a 4th-and-11 fake punt with a six-point lead in the latter half of the fourth quarter last weekend against Michigan State… in Northwestern territory.


Subjective statement: Conference USA is almost as crazy as the Big East. Almost.


Objective support: Tulane 34, UTEP 24, at the Sun Bowl. At night.


Subjective statement: Most overlooked score of the week: Houston 45, SMU 20. In suburban Dallas.


Objective support: In one shocking about-face, Houston – playing a pup named David Piland at quarterback – temporarily gained the inside track to the C-USA West title. Houston’s schedule is tougher than SMU’s, but the result speaks volumes about the quality of UH head coach Kevin Sumlin. June Jones, the SMU boss, has to be very disappointed with his team’s inability to close the sale in its division.


Part II: Standards – College Football’s Other Missing Link


Over the past few weeks, we’ve been making it a point to shine a spotlight on many of the flaws in college football’s postseason architecture. Not the BCS itself (although it is obviously the number-one problem facing the sport), but the overall landscape of this immensely entertaining yet supremely frustrating enterprise. The journey to New Year’s Day is great fun on the field, but the off-field politics and other absurdities take much of the joy away from being both a college football fan, and from being a pigskin pundit as well.


Football is a big-game sport. Whereas baseball is played every day, and basketball is mostly played every three to four days, football is the once-a-week confrontation in which two rosters gear up for mortal combat and spill their guts on a sprawling green canvas for three and a half hours of rollicking good fun. After the regular season finishes, mother nature meant for human beings to contest championships and leave no doubt about the merits of the whole exercise. That is what football is about: lifting the trophy; walking off the field with a Joe Namath index finger raised in triumph; the coach getting the victory ride he never thought would come after so many near-misses in big games. Football is NOT about being asked, “So, do you think you have enough votes in the coaches’ poll?” or “Did you think you made enough of a statement to the voters tonight with the style points you accumulated?” That’s not football; that’s not a sport; that’s politics, which is just as prevalent today as it was under the old poll-and-bowl system, which at least had the good sense to give us a New Year’s Day platter of games that held the nation’s attention and captured the nation’s imagination.


America was thrilled by the Orange Bowl through the mid-1990s, but it’s not enticed now. America was regularly excited about the Sugar Bowl through the mid-1990s, but we’re not so consistently geeked about the game these days. America enjoyed a strong relationship with the Cotton Bowl through the early 1990s and those clashes between Notre Dame and Texas A&M, but the Cotton Bowl is a second-tier event these days. Even the Rose Bowl has lost stature, though not as severely as the other BCS bowls. The Rose is still the most enduring college football bowl game; but it, too, lacks the juice it once possessed, for the simple reason that fan bases think “national title” at the beginning of each season, seduced by the BCS into thinking that there’s objectivity in a system which possesses little of it.


As this column has been trying to build a case for over the past few weeks, although the BCS is going to be with us, the sport needs to find ways of reforming itself within the BCS substructure.


No team illustrates the need for college football bowl system reform more than Boise State.


This isn’t the time or place to tout Boise State or make any statements about its ability to win consistently in any BCS conference. Dismiss that entire set of considerations for now. The point of talking about Boise State within this larger framework of college football is to illustrate why the sport needs systemic reform in terms of the way its postseason is shaped.


Over the past few weeks, the Weekly Affirmation – with assistance from guest columnist Jarod Daily – has tried to show how flexibility, a willingness to be elastic and agile in response to the permutations of every unique college football season, is an essential part of a healthier and truly fair sport. This week, as our October spotlight series concludes, it’s worth considering the importance of maintaining defined and universally accepted standards of performance in college football. Not everyone will like these standards, and no solution is going to satisfy each fan or soothe every constituency, whether it is in college football, party politics, or elsewhere in our lives. Great spiritual teachers tell us that acceptance does not have to be equated with full approval. However, the BCS is not even accepted as legitimate by most college football fans. College football can be made more legitimate, in the short term at least, if the parameters are refined


Boise State is the team that, more than any other, points out most precisely (this season) which ingredients must be thrown into the BCS selection mix while this flawed and broken system remains in place (contractually through January of 2014 - and likely through January of 2018 with the addition of another four-year rotation).


Whether you admire Boise State or not; whether you are high on this team as an analyst or not; whether you think Boise State is good for college football or not, you have to concede that college football has no coherent plan for placing the Broncos or other “non-AQ” teams that are like them into the national championship equation. We should all agree on this point even if we have radically different estimations of the Broncos’ on-field merits.


College football needs to get ahead of the curve and become more proactive in ways that mimic the NCAA Division I Men’s Basketball Committee, also known as the NCAA Tournament Selection Committee. College football might not need a formalized institutional body that sits in an Indianapolis war room on the first Sunday of December after the conference championship games are done, but what this sport certainly does need is a central leadership that can guide teams to a necessary course of action before the season begins.


In college basketball, the head of the Selection Committee tells Jim Nantz and Clark Kellogg, on Selection Sunday, which points of emphasis are most valuable. This provides the template for college basketball programs in the future. Interestingly enough, the main priority for the basketball committee has been the strength of the non-conference schedule; in other words, the portion of a schedule that is left to a school’s own discretion. If, in college football, there was a similar leadership body that could pound home that point of emphasis on the first weekend of December, you had better believe the sport would see a lot more quality non-conference games in September, instead of the Big Ten’s “MAC Invitational” or the “Sun Belt-SEC Tour,” for instance. You would also see Boise State avoid Toledo and Wyoming, instead choosing a pair of far more imposing opponents.


These details are nice, but the larger point is not strength of schedule in and of itself; there needs to be a coherent and clear voice that all schools respect, and which then follows through in its attempt to apply and reward certain specific virtues. If the sport’s schools (at the FBS level) elect to accept the terms and conditions – though not all schools might like them – we will be better off than we have been in the past.


Let’s flesh out this point a little more as it relates to Boise State, the team of the moment in college football not from a standpoint of pure excellence, but in terms of its place at the center of a firestorm of impassioned debate. (Man, did Twitter ever light up like a Christmas tree on Tuesday night for a Boise State-Louisiana Tech game; how often has that matchup ever aroused such intensity from a nation of football fans?)


Maybe Boise State has done enough with its non-conference (i.e., non-discretionary) schedule to warrant a spot in the BCS National Championship Game if, perhaps, all the power-conference teams lose at least once. On the other hand, you might feel that Boise State needs to schedule four big non-conference games, not just two, because of the minimal quality of the Western Athletic Conference. You might feel that Boise State can never deserve title-game consideration as long as it’s in the WAC. Perhaps you think that since the Mountain West Conference Boise is joining – sans BYU and Utah – doesn’t have enough heft to make Boise title-game-worthy in future years. Or, another point, the Mountain West, if it added a premier team, would become title-game-worthy. This is not to suggest or declare that one view is more correct than any other; the purpose of mentioning all these competing viewpoints is to say that, in college football, THERE IS NEVER A CLEAR VERDICT, NEVER A CLEAR ROADMAP!


If the sport wants to give teams like Boise State or TCU a precise “here’s how you do it” blueprint for becoming worthy of a spot in the national title game, then spell out the plan in all its details. Don’t leave Boise hanging or tease the Broncos with false promises and empty entreaties. Give Boise’s athletic director, Gene Bleymaier, the outline he needs to follow. Give the ADs of the other FBS schools the acceptable parameters they need to follow in order to coexist with Boise yet also look out for their best interests as they relate to regular-season college football scheduling.


We never have never seen clearly-articulated standards in college football. There is rarely if ever, an “If X, then Y” form of clarity for FBS programs, across the board, in equal measure.


Moving away from Boise State, one would do well to recall not just the most unfair BCS resolutions over the past 12 years – the 2001 and 2008 seasons – but the most confusing BCS resolution of all, the 2003 season. Remember that wacky final day – Saturday, December 6, 2003 – when computer results involving a Notre Dame-Syracuse contest and a Boise State-Hawaii game (hey, Boise still figured in the larger scheme of things after all – how ironic!) gave LSU a positive nudge? Remember how Oklahoma lost a game nobody outside of Manhattan, Kansas, felt the Sooners would drop? Remember how USC took care of business against Oregon State? Remember how LSU’s second win over Georgia really wasn’t supposed to be counted within the convoluted BCS metrics that are no less decipherable today?


That day, more than any other day in the BCS era, revealed the extent of the politically-fueled confusion which emerges – to the benefit and satisfaction of no one – when college football lacks a core of central leadership, a person or group that can say exactly what all teams from multiple vantage points must do in a given situation. Just as various schools all need to be told what they need to do in terms of discretionary (non-conference) scheduling, so it also stands that on the morning of December 6, 2003, a person or group should have been able to tell everyone in college football – players, coaches, fans and journalists – what needed to happen for each team to make the 2004 Sugar Bowl, then the (mythical) national championship game.


Naturally, college football regularly provides wild scenarios all the time (it’s what the sport does and has always done), but given the many permutations that were possible on the final day of the 2003 regular season – since the BCS forces a Notre Dame-Syracuse game and a Boise State-Hawaii game to affect an Oklahoma-LSU-USC competition – we did indeed need a leadership figure to announce an extended list of scenarios and outcomes. We needed someone to tell us if Oklahoma’s loss to Kansas State – by denying OU of a conference championship – prevented the Sooners from being eligible for the 2004 Sugar Bowl. We still need college football to decide, formally and finally, on whether second-place teams in conferences should be eligible for the national title under any circumstance in any season.


In short, we need standards. We need roadmaps. We need to be shown, as members of the college football community, the path from point A to point B. This is true if you’re a Boise State fan or an advocate of the non-automatic qualifiers, but it’s no less true if you’re an advocate for the Southeastern Conference and its member institutions. This is true if you’re a Big Ten fan in Ashtabula, Ohio, but it’s no less true if you’re a Pac-10 fan in Apache Junction, Arizona.


Say this about the BCS: It’s standards might suck, but if it could at least broadcast a roadmap to clarity, it wouldn’t be hated as much, and we wouldn’t argue as much in a waste of our brain cells and blood pressure levels. At least tell us, college football – tell Boise State, tell TCU, tell the Big East Conference, tell a 12-1 SEC champion, tell a 12-1 Big Ten champion – what needs to happen in order for a given team or conference to reach the BCS National Championship Game under several basic scenarios. Give all of us standards that we can then try to live up to. Give us a bar we can jump for. Give us a metric the teams and coaches can strive to reach, and which writers can clearly explain.


Give us anything beyond the ultra-political “talking/debating/arguing is what makes college football fun” bullcrap we’ve had to stomach in the not-at-all-objective BCS era. If we want to debate, let’s go back to the old poll-and-bowl system, when we knew the process was unscientific but the sport’s traditions (and classic bowl games – sniff, sniff, beloved Orange Bowl; we knew you and loved you before you died) breathed free. Just give us anything beyond what we have now. Just give us some standards that will remain in place for awhile, so that all FBS programs can align their operations as they see fit.

A SET OF STANDARDS! Deliver this, just this, and so many of college football’s maddening and unnecessary problems might cease to exist.