College Football's Next Chapter

As we put a bow on the Scrappin’ Harbaughs’ kneecapping of Washington for the national championship, we might also bid a fond farewell to major college football as we know it. They’ll still play the games, we’ll still watch, and the circus will continue. Given the changes afoot, however, the 2023 season feels like the end of an era as the sport lumbers toward whatever’s next. 

Megafootballfauna!

Mega-conferences [NOTE FROM YOUR TINY DICTATOR, WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE A BIT TIPSY: I prefer to read this as megafauna, which I find an excellent word], the 12-team playoff, and players profiting from their abilities are upon us. Any of those measures alone create a seismic shift. That all three arrive together while college athletics’ leadership essentially draws “HELP” in super-sized letters on the beach in hopes of a rescue flyover is its own level of entertainment. 

Athletes making money from their name, image and likeness (NIL) has been in place for a couple of years now, as schools figure out how to use it as recruiting tool and oversee it without calling their new assistant athletic directors “bagmen.” If anything, NIL has been bolstered by the other two components. 

When the Southeastern Conference poached Texas and Oklahoma from the Big 12, and the Big Ten countered by grabbing Southern Cal and UCLA from the Pac-12, it kicked off a round of realignment that exposed the lie that major college athletics’ primary concern is the welfare of the athletes, unless frequent-flier miles and Marriott points are now considered benefits. The Big Ten is about to be an 18-team coast-to-coast league, the SEC a 16-team outfit that stretches from central Texas and Oklahoma to Florida. The two wealthiest conferences, in terms of TV contracts and interest, are about to become even wealthier once the upcoming round of TV negotiations is complete. Meanwhile, the Big 12 is up to 16 schools after cherry-picking from the underserved and then snatching a quartet of Pac-12 refugees, and the last-at-the-table ACC is also up to 18 schools and bi-coastal. 

Couple that movement with the 12-team playoff, and it makes for a dandy cash grab. The four-team playoff structure was worth $400-600 million per year for the decade it was in place. The new, expanded setup is estimated to be worth approximately $1-1.2 billion per year. Under the old system, conferences received $6 million for each semifinalist and $4 million for each team in one of the rotating non-playoff major bowls (Cotton, Fiesta, Peach). Expect those payouts to increase substantially under the 12-team field. 

All that lettuce, and still there are plenty of folks who want to restrict the kids who attract the eyeballs and cash. At this point, arguments for the traditional model of college athletics should come with a laugh track, though it does provide a valuable lesson for the kids: that the adults who control the means and venues and distribution won’t cede a dime without a hissy fit, and they won’t hesitate to use any tool in the shed. 

Education and nostalgia and sports can make for darn fine cover, which Eugene Debs and Mother Jones and Marvin Miller would recognize. But we digress. The combination of conference consolidation and the fact that an actual playoff field was imminent made this season feel a little like a missed opportunity. Consider what the 12-team field would have looked like this season: three SEC teams (Alabama, Georgia, Missouri), three Big Ten teams (Michigan, Ohio State, Penn State), two from the Pac-12 (Washington, Oregon), champs from the Big 12 (Texas) and ACC (Florida State), and the Group of Five choice (Liberty). Argue among yourselves about the 12th team. 

A potentially terrific tournament strictly from a competitive standpoint, but also a fairly broad representation of the sport. Future tournaments may be similarly competitive but something will be lost. One of the beauties of college football, of college athletics in general, is its unique fingerprint, both individually and regionally. It’s what separates the game from the more homogenized NFL. 

Going forward, programs will still have their own personalities and loyalties, but consolidation and the elimination of an entire conference (RIP, Pac-12) erodes some of the individuality. When programs are grouped under increasingly large umbrellas, it begins to feel like watching branch offices of Amazon and Microsoft rather than pure athletic competition (if the West Coast programs are somehow cowed into an Iowafication of their style of play, the Big Ten offices will receive a sternly worded letter; just sayin’).  

Now, if all this nudges college football toward separate governance and scheduling and permits athletic departments to return to more regionally sensible schedules for all other sports, then the upheaval may have been worth it. Good or bad in total no one can say. Though the fact that in this revolution no skulls were cracked probably counts as a win.

College Breakups and Shakeups

The gladiatorial pit with suits that passes for major college athletics has been quite active this summer. In the past month we’ve seen the implosion of a hundred-year-old conference, membership raids, geographic insanity, posturing and threats from within leagues, forecasts of doom, and pleas for national oversight. And that doesn’t even touch on the pie fight between the NCAA and Jim Harbaugh. 

At last count, the Pac-12 Conference was getting affairs in order in advance of last rites. The Big Ten is at 14 schools on the way to 18 and will stretch from New Jersey to Los Angeles and Seattle. The Big 12 is up to 11 schools, headed for 14, and will run from Florida to Ohio to Utah and Arizona. Two of the primo academic and athletic institutions in the nation, Stanford and Cal-Berkeley, are soon to be homeless, though there’s a case to be made that the ACC should partake of the geographic mad-libs and welcome both. 

Of course, all of this is tied to feeding troughs, specifically TV money and revenue distribution from each league’s respective broadcast contracts. The Big Ten and Southeastern Conference are by far the wealthiest leagues. In 2021-22, the most recent year records are available, the Big Ten disbursed $58.8 million to each member school athletic department – several million less to new-ish members Nebraska, Rutgers and Maryland. The SEC distributed $49.9 million per school. Both numbers are expected to mushroom as the Big Ten adds Southern Cal and UCLA, while the SEC adds Texas and Oklahoma, and both conferences have new TV contracts in the next couple of years. Meanwhile, the ACC distributed approximately $39.4 million per school. That number will increase, but only incrementally, and the league’s present TV deal runs through 2035-36. The Big 12 distributed between $42-44.9 million to its members in 2022, though that number is likely to be diluted as the league adds BYU, Central Florida, Cincinnati and Houston for the coming year and several Pac-12 refugees ahead. 

Unlike the other three conferences, the B12 does not have its own dedicated TV network. That revenue gap is untenable, say a handful of schools not in the Big Ten or SEC, and will make it increasingly difficult to compete for championships. Though I’d argue that supposedly “underfunded” Clemson and Florida State remain a heck of a lot closer to competing for football championships than Indiana and Mississippi State, no matter how much more money the latter bring in. 

Revenue uncertainty and the widening gap prompted the current round of realignment. The Pac-12, by most accounts, botched its broadcast negotiations and network distribution and whatever plans existed in swift and stunning fashion. A buddy and former newspaper colleague opined that the Pac-12’s demise will be studied in business classes and have books written about it. Colorado began the exodus, opting for the Big 12. The Big Ten, eschewing collegiality and tradition, then poached Washington and Oregon. Smelling blood, the Big 12 threw lifelines to Arizona, Arizona State and Utah. Suddenly, the Pac-12 was down to four, and whatever collective comes next is anyone’s guess. 

The SEC remained on the sidelines this go ‘round, with Texas and Oklahoma in the bullpen that brings membership to 16, but rest assured its accounting beavers are busily vetting and parsing myriad expansion combinations as the Big Hats contemplate their portion of world domination. 

Which brings us to the ACC. There’s been no movement, but plenty of noise and smoke. Florida State, notably, is and has been the whiniest kid in the playpen. The Seminoles have believed for years that they and their football program haven’t been sufficiently rewarded for carrying water for the conference, that their accomplishments and profile merit a larger piece of the revenue pie. 

To be fair, several schools have proposed some kind of performance-based revenue sharing plan (the ACC presently distributes equal shares to all members, save Notre Dame because of its football independence). ACC brass hasn’t signed off on a tiered distribution plan, but will implement a so-called “success initiative” for football and men’s hoops – extra millions here and there for good work. That doesn’t mollify the Seminoles, whose prez said earlier this month that the school would have to seriously consider leaving the ACC without revenue overhaul, to a chorus of ‘amens’ and tough talk from the Board of Trustees. 

The proper response is: and go where? The Seminoles fancy themselves a national brand attractive to all, but they bring nothing to the SEC that the conference doesn’t already possess. Also, folks in Gainesville might like a word about the prospect of elevating a state rival with no commensurate value. The Big Ten may want a presence in Florida, but it’s about to be an 18-team, coast-to-coast conference and likely wants to acclimate to its new footprint. In addition, Big Ten schools take their academic chops seriously (most are certified members of the American Association of Universities, which signifies lofty research and innovation tracks), and FSU is not credentialed within that group. The Big 12 would be a lateral move, at best, and likely a step down in terms of revenue distribution, given its own expansion. 

And then there’s the cost of departure from the ACC. The exit fee is three times the average annual distribution, so three years at $40 million per is $120 million. Schools also signed off on something called Grant of Rights, which transfers a school’s media rights to the league. That agreement runs the length of the TV deal, through 2036. All told, bolting the ACC would cost north of $500 million. Unless the Saudis decide that American college football would be a swell complement to professional golf and soccer, and a school located within shouting distance of the Redneck Riviera would be a dandy cornerstone, Florida State is going nowhere. 

Florida State’s lawyers have studied the Grant of Rights for loopholes, as have other ACC schools, as everyone attempts to read the tea leaves and gird for what’s next. Short of a mass walkout, highly unlikely bordering on reckless, the league will remain intact for the foreseeable future. It’s the “foreseeable” part that’s the mystery. 

Enter Stanford and Cal Berkeley and SMU, objects of recent expansion discussion by ACC officials. The two California schools will soon need a home and would like to remain power conference competitors, while SMU has had its nose pressed against the major conference football window for years. 

Geographically, none of the three make an ounce of sense in the ACC. But the good sense ship sailed long ago. It’s about conference viability and money. Each new member means an additional year’s revenue payout, according to the TV contract. The ACC Network suddenly has footholds in California and Texas, which will bring in additional revenue, depending on ESPN’s negotiations with providers in those states. The new members won’t receive full shares of annual payouts for several years, and SMU, with its deep-pocketed donor base, reportedly offered to take zero conference money for at least five years. All of that could add up to as much as $200 million extra for the league over a number of years, money that might translate to several million per school each year or be funneled into the success initiative. 

According to multiple reports, the ACC fell one vote shy of the 75 percent (12 of 15) required for expansion, though discussions remain ongoing. Reasons for the rejection are unclear, sitting somewhere between geography and travel concerns, and more selfish motives that may allow more flexibility for the next round of realignment. Among the arguments by expansion proponents is “safety in numbers” – that the larger and more stable the conference is, the better positioned it will be if or when the next shakeup occurs. A stronger safety net for the Wake Forests, Boston Colleges and Georgia Techs and less attractive expansion targets. ACC Commish Jim Phillips, among others, has taken the position that, while they don’t distribute Big Ten or SEC money, there’s nothing wrong with being No. 3, and it can’t be all about accounting. 

If nothing else, this summer has further confirmed the hypocrisy that major college athletics is an “amateur” endeavor and that athlete welfare is a priority. It’s a cash grab that will see more kids traveling across multiple time zones to compete. The solution is as simple as it will be difficult to execute. As others have suggested, top shelf football needs to separate from the overall college athletic model. It needs its own governance, its own TV negotiations and contracts, its own scheduling. Smart money points to a future model comprised of a super league or two, and the top 50 or so programs, with everyone else finding their own level. 

We’re already part way there with the SEC and Big Ten. If they want to play coast-to-coast, big-boy football and the money’s there (which it apparently is), go for it. But don’t drag the rest of the athletic department along. Permit the other sports to play more regional and reasonable schedules. That’s liable to be a hard ask for athletic directors and school prezes and conference commissioners, to cede some level of control over their biggest moneymaker. It won’t fix college athletics, but it might restore a sliver of sanity. These days, that may be the most we can hope for.