For those unfamiliar the BCS is the way that the powers that be determine who gets to play for the National Championship. It is two human polls and a compilation of six computer rankings designed by professional math geeks, football wonks, and some people who—not a little surprisingly—don’t know anything about either. In essence, the BCS is a model of human sinfulness. It takes the gospel of football and dilutes it with biased commentary, hour-long ESPN specials dedicated to computer formulas, and more non sequiturs per Craig James opinion piece than should be allowable under FCC regulations. What the BCS is really about is taking away the influence of actual football games and putting it in the hands of talk-show style personalities who debate which teams are deserving of their rankings week in and week out. In what other sport can you win every game in a season and never get to play for a championship? Maybe croquet, I don’t know.
Why then doesn’t college football institute a playoff system to include all the undefeated teams, as well as the best of the one and two-loss teams?
That would make a lot of sense in a gospel-driven football system, but Satan is poking his head out around the corner in the guise of television networks, corporate partners, and Ohio State University presidents. Losing the BCS might lose them money, but that is debatable. The real reason they won’t give up the BCS is because it gives them power. That is the root of human sinfulness—power over the lowly.
Since the beginning of time, sports have offered prime examples of the meek rising above adversity and defeating seemingly superior opponents. Even if you are a seminary nerd you have probably heard of the movie Hoosiers, the Springboks of South Africa winning the Rugby World Cup in the shadow of Apartheid, or the U.S. Miracle on Ice victory over the Soviets (God have mercy on your soul if you aren’t aware of the last). The history of sports is marked by David defeating Goliath. That is, up until the advent of the BCS.
No longer can we enjoy watching a game on a Saturday afternoon without being subjected to substance-less hype about who so-and-so projects to be the best teams in the country. If you turn off the volume you’ll still see the graphics, though admittedly you will not have to listen to commentators pretend to understand what all the math means. I’ve even heard that ESPN is marketing a new braille BCS ticker for the blind to keep up on the latest rankings—I made that part up but don’t put it past them. If there’s a market, count on the BCS to wring every last penny out of it with no respect either for the student or athlete part of student-athlete.
I can think of only two small bits of comfort for those of us unfortunate enough to even remotely care about college football. The first is that it makes the rest of our lives seem somewhat logical and functional. Seriously, next time you start to question the career path that God is leading you on, thank your lucky stars that it has nothing to do with the BCS. In fact, it removes that sin from your conscience completely by taking all your weekends for the rest of your life. That, my friends, is a blessing. And secondly—and most importantly—we here in Minnesota who call ourselves Gopher fans will never need to worry about the letters B-C-S. That’s not a projection—it’s a guarantee.
No comments:
Post a Comment