The Rules Reconsidered: Top of the Pile, Bottom of the Bowl

Last night was the night, folks—the last of the bowl games, not counting the National Championship Game, that marks the end of college football season.

And there were a myriad of them.

More accurately, 42 (at least, according to Google, and not counting the Covid cancelations), which necessarily entails that 84 teams have been deemed worthy by someone somewhere (the College Football Playoff Selection Committee, according to Google) of being invited to a “bowl.”

That is, theoretically speaking, more than one team, on average, per state, in almost forty separate venues, each with its unique tag, some natural (Sun, Sugar, Rose, Cotton, Citrus—not to be confused for Orange), some local (New Mexico, Boca Raton, Texas) some patriotic/idealistic (Armed Forces, Liberty, First Responder), several corporate (Cheez-It—yes, that—Outback) and some downright silly (aside from the relevant previously mentioned, Duke’s Mayo Bowl—what?!—Gasparilla Bowl—okay—Lending Tree Bowl—sure, why not?—and, my favorite, Famous Idaho Potato Bowl—wth?!!).

And TCU didn’t get invited to one of 'em.

In other words, in a season of corporate figures in college football that must rival China’s post-COVID GDP, TCU managed somehow not to get itself invited, if only by accident, to a bowl with a name scraping so deep a barrel as “The Famous Idaho Potato Bowl.”

And that got me thinking: why not?

Sure, we didn’t close the year with a winning season. In fact, for the fourth time this century, we had a losing season. But so did Rutgers (a 5-7 team)—wait, Rutgers has a football team? (Indeed, they do, and in the last forty years they’ve had twelve, count 'em, twelve winning seasons)—and they didn’t beat Baylor, victors of the Sugar Bowl. We did.

Hence the need for this piece.

So I would like humbly to alert those corporate gods looking down on Fort Worth, as ever, of the need to reconsider their priorities. To begin, I would like to assess the term “bowl eligibility.” Now, I’m personally fond of the idea of a “Super Bowl,” as the term is clear, as are the necessary requirements to earn a spot—winning. And I’m not sure, being a sports ignoramus, if winning is a prerequisite for “bowl eligibility,” but it seems like it might help. And Rutgers didn’t do that any better than we did.

But if we are going to allow teams with losing records to jostle in bowl games named “Cheez-It” and take it seriously, why not follow the logic to its proper conclusion and host bowl games for everyone? I personally like the sound and fury of the Frog Bowl or even the TCU Bowl, or, hell, the Carter Bowl, better than “The Famous Idaho Potato Bowl.” Famous Idaho Potato?—am I missing something here?

Then, all the losing teams can congregate, show their true winning spirit, and lick the wounds still bleeding from seven (or more) losses. The teams without a win to their credit might redeem themselves, and others, like us, could glimpse the glory of a nearly neutral season. And virtually all of them would, of necessity, perform in bowls nominally superior to Famous Idaho Potato.

(But seriously, folks. Famous Idaho Potato Bowl? FAMOUS IDAHO POTATO BOWL?!!!!!!!)

And, if nothing else, we’d give those damned pinstriped pinheads some more, much needed practice in affirming the Purple Rule: If the opposing team does it, it’s a penalty; if TCU does it, it ain’t.

And that's the bottom line.

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