Gridiron Goliath: Is College Football’s ‘Growth’ a Pyrrhic Victory?
POLICY WIRE — Washington, D.C. — We humans are funny creatures, aren’t we? Always chasing the next big thing, convinced more is inherently better. Bigger houses. Faster cars. That extra slice...
POLICY WIRE — Washington, D.C. — We humans are funny creatures, aren’t we? Always chasing the next big thing, convinced more is inherently better. Bigger houses. Faster cars. That extra slice of cake—it’s an addiction to expansion, plain and simple. And nowhere does this peculiar impulse manifest with quite as much performative grandeur as it does in American collegiate sports. Forget Andy Samberg’s ridiculous “Pizza! Now that’s what I call a taco!” outburst in the infamous Taco Town skit. These days, the architects of college athletics are just screaming, “Football! Now that’s what I call a revenue stream!”
It used to be a point of pride, even. College football boasted arguably the most significant regular season in American sports, a gauntlet where a single misstep could crater national title hopes. A 12-game marathon, often decided by razor-thin margins — and the fickle finger of fate. A few teams, very few, got a shot at the crown. Now? Well, get ready for a 24-team playoff. Because, of course, that’s what everyone really wants—a diluted regular season and an endless slog of mostly uninspired matchups masquerading as high-stakes drama.
The writing’s been on the wall for a while, ever since the old Bowl Championship Series got unceremoniously dumped in the trash heap. But even a cynical hack like me thought we might get a moment to breathe. No such luck. “The landscape of college athletics is dynamic,” declared Greg Sankey, the commissioner of the Southeastern Conference and a key power broker in these maneuvers. “Adapting isn’t just advisable; it’s a financial imperative for growth and maintaining relevance in a crowded market.” See? It’s all about growth. Always.
And let’s not pretend this is about expanding opportunity for the plucky underdog, the Group of Five Cinderella who dreams of hoisting a trophy alongside the behemoths. Please. Everyone’s cynical enough to know the true motivations here. This isn’t about equity. Not really. The committees already make damn sure to keep too many unmarketable teams out of even the current 12-team structure. This expanded field? It just means we’ll get more 8-4 teams—the kinds that typically headline the ReliaQuest Bowl, for heaven’s sake—filling out spots 18 through 24. They’ll call it a playoff game. It won’t be.
It’s about market share. About TV deals. “Fan engagement is paramount,” offered Tony Petitti, the commissioner of the Big Ten. “And expanded access to the postseason ensures more teams and their passionate fan bases have a stake in the ultimate prize, which is undeniably good for the game’s broader appeal.” Broader appeal, translated, means more eyeballs for sponsors. And more opportunities for the same dominant brands to ultimately snatch the prize.
The economic stakes here are eye-watering, so much so that even countries far removed from American gridiron are wrestling with similar pressures in their own sports landscapes. Consider Pakistan’s approach to its beloved national sport, cricket. While international T20 leagues offer staggering sums, the Pakistan Cricket Board often has to make hard choices, balancing immediate commercial gain from franchise leagues with the strategic development of test cricket, which, while less of an instant revenue driver, forms the foundational identity of the sport. It’s a constant tightrope walk, often marked by the country’s broader geopolitical considerations, as detailed in analyses like this one on Pakistan’s defense strategy, where every investment has cascading implications far beyond its immediate scope. You could argue it requires a strategic foresight and resistance to purely market-driven logic that, ironically, seems to elude the NCAA.
Then there’s the absurd hope held by some coaches that this expansion will stabilize their wildly precarious employment. They reckon making the expanded field counts as “success.” Bad news, guys: That’s a fool’s errand. Boosters don’t shell out for participation trophies. They want championships. You know, like one out of 134 FBS programs every year. That’s a tough gig. Gus Malzahn, for instance, received a then-record buyout of just over $21 million when Auburn gave him the boot after the 2020 Covid season, as reported by ESPN, despite nearing a national title in his debut year. He’d even won big at Auburn before that, but it wasn’t enough. Since then, multiple other coaches, including figures like Jimbo Fisher and James Franklin—successful coaches with impressive track records—have seen even bigger payouts when their schools decided they weren’t quite winning enough. Making the playoffs as a No. 15 seed won’t save your job for long when those sharks smell blood.
What This Means
This relentless drive for bigger playoffs—in football, basketball, and who knows what else is next—reflects a chilling reality. It’s a full-throttle sprint towards total commodification. The unique flavor of college sports, often romanticized as pure amateurism, has long been eroding. Now, any last vestiges are being actively dismantled for maximum quarterly returns. The institutions, those venerable universities, are increasingly acting as hyper-commercialized entities, viewing athletes as revenue generators and tradition as an impediment to optimizing profit margins. It’s not about making the game better. It’s about extracting every last cent, — and perhaps reshaping what a ‘meaningful’ sporting endeavor even is. The debate around “amateur” athletes vs. “laborers” becomes moot when the primary governing bodies behave with the ruthless efficiency of a global conglomerate chasing ever-elusive shareholder value. And like all unchecked growth, eventually, something important breaks.
Don’t get me wrong, money has always been part of sports. Always. But there was a time, not too long ago, when college sports felt, well, a little less cynical. This expansion isn’t just about football. It’s about signaling the triumph of market logic over sporting tradition, setting a precedent that will continue to chew up and spit out anything that stands in its way. And frankly, that’s a game I’m not sure anyone wins in the long run.
