The college football playoff process is absurd to this English noob

Baseball has been my lifelong passion, despite its main hub residing an ocean away. The NFL has long been a growing secondary interest, thanks to regular London games and the proliferation of domestic media coverage. But when it comes to college football, I’m an ignorant noob, and that status received its annual affirmation yesterday with the patented College Football Playoff Selection Show™ extravaganza – a thoroughly American affair steeped in unnecessary complexity.

First, here is my rough – admittedly flawed – understanding of the entire process, for what it is worth. Essentially, 134 Division I football teams play a dozen or so games each through a gruelling regular season, only to have their playoff fates decided on an ESPN reality show by an opaque committee of 13 ‘selectors’ – comprised of former coaches, retired players, journalists and, confusingly, active directors of colleges competing for selection. Apparently, conflicts of interest are deemed irrelevant, or at the very least negotiable, as subjective debates become laden with bias.

How, exactly, does this shadowy ‘committee’ select the 12 teams onto which the arbitrary honour of playoff participation is dramatically conferred? Well, we don’t really know. Not for sure, anyway. The selection criteria is a bit like the TikTok algorithm, in that regard – vague signals and whispered inferences wrapped around purposely convoluted guidelines of brazen deceit. There are also parallels to the bizarre selection of a new pope, where a stuffy conclave debates ad nauseam until white puffs of smoke are expelled from the Vatican chimney. Plenty of hot air is released from the ESPN studio as college football unveils its prized bracket, but any saintly synergies end there, I’m afraid.

From afar, indeed, it seems as though a handful of colleges are left feeling slighted and shunned every year, when they fail to convince the selectors of their playoff worthiness. Of course, that, in and of itself, is a thankless task devoid of orienting parameters, lending a farcical hue to the panicked proceedings while strengthening the sense of injustice.

This year, for example, the 10-2 Miami Hurricanes were left out while the 10-3 Clemson Tigers qualified. That, to me, is illogical, and such contrived outcomes undermine the very purpose of playing games from August through December.

It seems readily apparent that ESPN has undue sway over the playoff matchups, thanks to the $7.8 billion investment it made to secure exclusive broadcasting rights. Perhaps naturally, the network wants to showcase colleges with larger fanbases, capturing more eyeballs for advertising, and actual sporting success becomes secondary to their plutocratic diktats. Meanwhile, the selectors have obvious human proclivities that are impossible to negate, compromising their suggestions. Remarkably, they not only select which 12 teams qualify, but also their playoff ordering, including byes and home field advantage. 

The whole system seems ripe for corruption, and while I do not know enough to point fingers, at the very least, college football seems unperturbed by the cloud of confusion in which conspiracy germinates. Whether that is the residue of design or idiocy, I’m unsure, but surely there is a fairer, more transparent and organic way of determining playoff teams and, ultimately, a national champion. Surely this thing can be streamlined.

This was supposed to be the streamlined pivot, however, if my rudimentary reading is correct. The previous system of Bowl games was equally confusing and similarly chaotic, resulting in multiple teams being considered national champions in certain years. The Bowl games, in turn, were an improvement on a bunch of chummy sportswriters haphazardly voting for a winner, as was the case for decades. This all seems so overcomplicated as to border absurdity. I’m baffled that people tolerate such a needlessly flawed process.

Of course, the very concept of big-time college sports is supposed to be alien to my English mind, because extracurricular athletics in our universities are typically confined to a couple dozen lads kicking a football around, or a few bookish types ironically cosplaying quidditch in a leafy field. There are so many recurring questions about college sports – from the aggressive recruitment of students to the subterfuge surrounding their remuneration – that never seem to be answered, and I struggle to care about it as a result.

Importantly, though, I’m not hostile to college sports, per se. In fact, I’m fascinated by the whole thing. I have an old tattered copy of Friday Night Lights somewhere. The sight of 115,000 attending a Michigan game at The Big House gives me chills. I even think the Joe Burrow cigar photo should hang in the Louvre. In truth, I simply struggle to understand how it all knits together – how any one game relates to the bigger picture and is thus imbued with meaning. There is a lack of obvious context that is difficult to overcome.

Indeed, my undoubted ignorance may even be useful to college football writ large. To a certain extent, I’m the kind of casual, curious consumer they need to convert. Their product lacks intuitive sense and is so impenetrable that I will typically scroll on to the next shiny thing – especially in this age of myriad competing interests. Whenever I get a hankering for college football, it is easier to load the Connor Stalions documentary on Netflix rather than get bogged down in playoff footnotes and bracket permutations. And at some point, that becomes an existential threat to NCAA football.

Sure, there is a degree of choreographed pizzazz baked into the college football process. After all, snubs and storylines keep the news cycle moving. Every time the selection committee releases new interim rankings, entire podcasts and talking head segments are dedicated to dissecting ‘whether they got it right.’ In reality, the more pertinent question is whether the committee should exist at all? I’m astounded that such a question is rarely broached, as people blindly accept suboptimal procedures. 

It seems clear to me that the entire protocol should be simplified. Wouldn’t basic, old fashioned standings work better? What about a straight knockout tournament involving all 134 teams? Maybe one centralised league system would be more efficient, eschewing so many conferences, divisions and labels. A better way must exist, even if nobody has designed it yet.

Undoubtedly, there are mitigating factors I’m overlooking. There has to be some fairly sane rationale for the selection committee and its byzantine process. In theory, most teams outside the top 15 have little chance of winning the national championship, but that is why we love sports – because they are played on grass, not on computers, and one team still has to beat the other. That is why the FA Cup was once so beloved here in England – because David occasionally beat Goliath when offered a truly level playing field.

Yes, there may be concerns around frequent mismatches – as when San Marino plays France in soccer, say – but any national champion worth its salt will beat whatever is put in front of it. Are we looking for the most lucrative, storied and well-resourced team here, or the best team, unequivocally? Often, they are the same, but sometimes, they are not. College football robs itself of underdog magic by relying so heavily on projected conclusions. 

I agree that most playoff selections are correct, and that a few edge cases spark outsized outrage, but tell that to anyone associated with the University of Miami today. Tell that to anyone who roots for a college that just happens to be in one of the less glamorous conferences, and who must rail against ludicrous double standards. Tell that to the players who put their bodies through hell and risk life-changing injuries only to have their championship aspirations decided by a phalanx of functionaries whose modus operandi is unclear.

Undoubtedly, there are concerns around unbalanced schedules, strength of opposition, conference contexts and varying degrees of parity that are often cited as justification for human interference, but those things should be corrected, too. Dare I suggest that most British of solutions: promotion and relegation? It would definitely never happen, because there is too much pride and money at stake, but it seems like a reasonable solution to the issues most readily cited as rationale for the current system. It would be a whole lot fairer, because everyone would know where they stand.

Again, I’m new to this, and my knowledge is definitely lacking. Go ahead and tear my suggestions to shreds. Ultimately, though, there has to be a more logical way of doing this. Ways that people can follow in real-time, removing any hint of suspicion or doubt. Ways that prioritise transparency and remove ambiguity. Ways that curtail the undue influence of 13 nondescript bureaucrats. Until then, I will probably remain a sporadic outsider, because there is too much ad lib manoeuvring for the thing to be worth my time. I will probably stick to baseball, because at least it has real standings.