Previously:
And it’s goodbye to A&M
Why I’m a fan
That awkward moment when your daughter says she wants to go to Texas A&M

Texas Monthly’s Paul Burka explains the historical and cultural significance of the Texas-A&M dichotomy (subscription required):

Why is this rivalry so intense? It is due partly to the circumstances of the institutions’ births. The state constitution of 1876 required the Legislature, “as soon as practicable,” to establish a “university of the first class . . . for the promotion of literature, and the arts and sciences.” That was UT. No such lofty ambitions were prescribed for A&M. The constitution said only, “The Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas . . . located in the county of Brazos, is hereby made, and constituted a branch of the University of Texas, for instruction in agriculture, the mechanic arts and the natural sciences connected therewith.” From the very start, A&M was the stepchild, the little brother, a status it has never quite shaken. It wasn’t intended as a “university of the first class.”

Conceived thus, over time the two schools have come to perfectly represent the two facets of Texas identity: rural roots and urban sophistication. For most of its history, A&M has been a school for families who lived far from the bright lights of the cities, whose children rode to school in buses that traveled on dusty roads, families who looked eagerly to the sky when dark clouds closed in over their cotton fields. Until the sixties, students, all male, were required to enroll for military training in the Corps of Cadets, fostering a highly disciplined, ascetic attitude that for decades was synonymous with “Aggie.” UT, by contrast, has always been the school for city folk, located smack in the middle of Austin, with its never-ending enticements of music and food and drink and the aura of power emanating from the Capitol, just a few blocks away. UT was the school for matinee idols like Farrah Fawcett. For the crew-cut young men of A&M it could sometimes represent everything in their lives that seemed unattainable. Conversely, for the many UT students who came from small towns, A&M could seem like everything they had wanted to leave behind. When the schools met on the football field, they were playing for more than just bragging rights. They were playing to vindicate their place in the world.

When rumors first started in 2010 that A&M was looking to bolt for the SEC (at a time when Texas, Tech, OU, and Oklahoma State were rumored to be heading to what was still the Pac-10), I have to admit I was adamantly against splitting the two schools apart. Forget money for a second. This is history we’re talking about. The Texas-A&M rivalry is programmed into the very DNA of the Lone Star State. To break them up, I argued, would be a sacrilege.

But I’m over it now.

I understand why A&M made the decision it did although I don’t agree with it for a minute. They hated UT’s $300 million deal with ESPN for the Longhorn Network and continued unequal sharing of TV money in the Big 12. They looked across the Sabine and saw the green grass of the SEC, with its abundance of national championships and equal TV profits, and probably for a moment even deluded themselves into thinking they could possibly be SEC champions one day. And as soon as the SEC would have them — for reasons I’m still unclear on — they were gone, taking Missouri with them shortly thereafter. For all the talk about “tradition” at College Station, when it came down to it, money and childish pride proved to be far more important.

So the Longhorns will head to Kyle Field on Thanksgiving for a final showdown with their arch-enemies in maroon. The emotion will be high on both sides for sure. For A&M, beating Texas one last time will ensure bragging rights for years. For Texas, it’s their last opportunity to humiliate the Aggies on their home turf and add one more victory to an already-lopsided 75-37-5 record.

And then a new reality will begin in the state of Texas, a reality without Texas-A&M, a reality that no Texan alive has ever known. Will each school remove the other from its fight song? Will they stop seeing each other as evil incarnate, the personification of everything that’s wrong in the world? Will the bitterness between the two schools fade with each passing generation until at some point it’s completely forgotten that they were once such hated rivals? It’s doubtful but still possible. But if it does happen, it’ll be no one’s fault but A&M’s.

Previously:
Why I’m a fan
That awkward moment when your daughter says she wants to go to Texas A&M
College football realignment? Done
The future of the Big 12 and how to stop it

Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.

– James 3:1

As the news broke last weekend of the horrific crimes committed by former Penn State defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky, speculation began about head coach Joe Paterno and the impact it would have on his 46-year coaching career. Media figures rushed to JoePa’s defense, using words like “legendary” and arguing that he was a good man who did the right thing by reporting what he knew to the university administration. Penn State players and alumni rallied behind him. And after Paterno was fired last night, students rioted in the streets of State College in protest.

But Paterno’s legacy isn’t important. In fact, it was the concern over his legacy, concern over Penn State’s image, concern over football records and recruiting and probably litigation that led him and others to cover up Sandusky’s crimes for years. They chose to place their own reputation ahead of the welfare of innocent children victimized by a monster. How can you continue to defend Paterno in light of that?

According to news reports, Paterno was first told about one of the crimes, which took place on school property, in 2002. Yet, Sandusky, who had retired from the university in 1999, continued to have full access to the facilities and to Penn State football players for years after that. Paul Posluszny, who played at Penn State from 2003 to 2006, told ESPN Radio’s Mike & Mike that Sandusky was routinely around players when he was there, promoting his Second Mile charity. That means that Paterno, who may not have known about the extent of the crimes but certainly knew about at least one of them, chose to look the other way, protecting his image rather than his players.

So now Paterno is gone, and rightfully so. Whether or not he violated the law, he certainly violated the trust of every parent whose children were in his care. But however history remembers his coaching career, it really doesn’t matter. Not to the children who were taken advantage of by Jerry Sandusky. Not to their families. Sandusky deserves to burn in hell for what he did, and anyone at Penn State who was complicit in those crimes should at the very least be removed from the university. Legacy be damned.

Previously:
Jim Tressel and Bathsheba
‘Sin is a condition, not necessarily an action’
Longhorns Inc., Part 2

I grew up in Lubbock, Texas, home of Buddy Holly, cotton, and endless miles of flat dirt. Which means I also grew up as a Texas Tech fan. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of going to the Tech games with my grandparents. My Papa would always wear his red and black cowboy boots, and I’d cross my fingers and hope the Saddle Tramps would throw a little red football my way. Then when it got cold, we’d huddle under a blanket and drink hot chocolate out of a Thermos and ooh and ahh over the Goin’ Band from Raiderland. On a field trip once, we got to run out onto the field at Jones Stadium, and it was like a dream come true.

But when I was in junior high, we moved to the DFW Metroplex, and I soon discovered that Red Raider fans were practically non-existent outside of West Texas. Most people were either loved Texas or Texas A&M, and over the years, my allegiance to Tech waned in favor of the Longhorns.

It’s important to point out, though, that even then, I wasn’t really a big fan of any sports, college or otherwise. Yeah, I liked sports, but I didn’t pay much attention to them, preferring Star Wars, comic books, or any other nerdy endeavor to football or basketball. (My dad once tried to get me excited about baseball cards. To this day, I still don’t understand the appeal of them.)

It wasn’t until late into high school and into college that I started to get interested in sports, and it wasn’t until after college that my love of college football really took off. (Of course, I don’t think it helped that I went to the University of Texas at Arlington, the only college I know of that has a marching band but no football team.) Late bloomer or not, though, today I’m a college football junkie and a die-hard Longhorns fan.

But it’s not just Texas that I root for now.

In the last couple of years, I’ve gotten hooked on the TCU Horned Frogs, a team I’ve always liked going back to the days of the Southwest Conference but never really paid much attention to. Part of my new-found admiration, of course, is due to their rise as a football powerhouse under Coach Gary Patterson. And part of it is due to my rediscovery of the city of Fort Worth. I worked in Fort Worth a while back but it wasn’t until we moved into the city limits a few years ago that I really began to think of it as my home. And how can you not root for the home team, especially one with such a Cinderella story?

Until Thursday, that dual affection for both Texas and TCU was perfectly acceptable, seeing as how since the breakup of the SWC in 1994, they’ve been in separate conferences and rarely play each other. It was perfectly fine to wear my TCU purple while flashing a spirited “Hook ‘Em Horns” to a fellow Longhorns fan. But all that changed when news broke that the Big 12 had invited the Frogs to join their conference, thus reuniting them with UT and causing a potentially embarrassing conflict of interest. Suddenly, I was faced with a serious dilemma: Do I have to choose one team over the other? And if so, where do my true allegiances lie?

It’s not an easy question. There are those that would say that you can only really be loyal to one team, and if you didn’t go to that school, you aren’t even worthy of wearing its colors. Which again, creates an immediate problem for those of us that didn’t have a team to root for. I guess I could say that since UT Arlington is part of the UT system, I’m sorta justified in bleeding burnt orange. But then I could say that I should stand behind the home team, which is of course outsized by Texas in every possible way except for the cost of tuition. I’ve always been a champion of the underdog, and TCU, despite its recent successes, is the epitome of an athletic underdog.

But the truth of the matter is, I don’t wanna choose. I don’t wanna stop throwing up a “Hook ‘Em Horns” any time I feel like it or tagging half my tweets with “#GoFrogs”. I don’t wanna trade my purple or burnt orange in for a single shade of collegiate attire. Why can’t I love them both equally (albeit for different reasons), even if this time next year they’ll be facing off against each other in a Big 12 conference game? After all, I may not be as enthusiastic about the Red Raiders as I once was, but I’ve never stopped liking them (although I always hated Mike Leach). Heck, I even like Baylor!

Does that make me a sports hypocrite, a fair-weather fan instead of a lifelong devotee? Perhaps, I don’t know. But at the end of the day, I really don’t care.

I say, Go Frogs, Hook ‘Em Horns, and hooray for college rivalries reborn.

Previously:
That awkward moment your daughter says she wants to go to Texas A&M
College football realignment? Done
The future of the Big 12 and how to stop it
…And win they did

You’re welcome.

Actually, to be fair most of the work was already done. TCU is already set to move the Big East next year, Texas A&M is still hoping to go to the SEC, and today the ACC officially announced that Pitt and Syracuse are moving over from the Big East. The rest is just details.

Under my plan, the six BCS automatic qualifying conferences are reduced to five, each with 14 teams. Yes, I know people keep talking about 16-team superconferences, but my plan gives you six extra teams, and if nothing else, I’m all about extra value.

So here goes:

• TCU moves to the Big East.
• Texas A&M and West Virginia move to the SEC.
• OU and Oklahoma State go to the Pac-12.
• Pitt and Syracuse go to the ACC.
• The Big Ten adds Air Force and SMU.
• What’s left of the Big 12 and Big East merge into a single conference, which also adds BYU.

Done.

Yes, you lose the Texas/Texas A&M and Texas/OU rivalries, but those ships have already sailed for the most part. There will also be considerable travel headaches, especially for sports other than football, but again, we’re already past that point as it is. The Big 12/Big East will have the most headaches but can easily divide into East-West regions for easier scheduling.

So what are the benefits?

• Each conference has the same number of teams.
• Each conference will have a conference championship game, giving each the same path to a BCS game.
• With only five AQ conferences, a sixth could be added (Mountain West?), or there could be more room in the BCS for wildcard teams, which I think is a better solution.
• Many of the traditional rivalries are left intact.
• And most importantly, we can stop talking about all this crap and get back to griping about the BCS.

Any questions?

Previously:
The future of the Big 12 and how to stop it
Wait, that was it?!
Speculating on conference expansion rumors
‘Fairness Index’ doesn’t prove the BCS is fair

The Aggies apparently weren’t too keen on their intrastate rival Longhorns getting their own television network, despite the fact that the Longhorn Network will be available to exactly seven households in America, none of which are in Austin. But logic has never been A&M’s strong suit, so they’ve chosen to abandon 100+ years of tradition and possibly as much as $30 million in exit fees in hopes that the SEC will let them in to their exclusive club. Yeah, good luck with that. Let’s see, how many Big 12 football titles has A&M won? How many BCS games have they gone to? How many National Championships have they won since the rise of the BCS? Zero. And yet they really expect to do better against the likes of Auburn, Florida, Alabama, and LSU?

I have a suspicion that winning isn’t really important to the Texas A&M Board of Regents, though. Their decision to leave is strictly fueled by pride, with a healthy dose of TV cash mixed in. Win or lose, A&M stands to make more money in the SEC, where the TV contracts are greater and revenues are shared equally among all its members. The Aggies were never going to make money off the Longhorn Network; Texas was. It’s just that simple.

Was that the right decision to make? I don’t know. And I don’t care, quite frankly. I think it was a tad petty and childish, personally. If the Aggies really wanted respect, all they had to do was go out and win ballgames. No temper tantrums necessary. That’s been the strategy of OU, and it seems to have worked out pretty well for them so far.

But right or wrong, the Aggies have made their decision, and a year after Nebraska and Colorado bolted for the Big Ten and Pac-12, respectively, Dan Beebe’s bunch is left with only nine members. So what now? Does the Big 12 recruit another school to replace A&M, or does this latest departure signal the beginning of the end of the conference? Here’s how I see the different scenarios:

Scenario 1: The Big 12 recruits a new member.

Maybe it’s BYU. Maybe Air Force. Notre Dame has been floated, but I don’t think they’d be interested. The Big 12 is attractive to non-BCS teams such as Air Force due to the conference still being a BCS automatic qualifier. That was what drew TCU to the Big East, after all. But everyone knows that Texas dominates the Big 12 when it comes to money, so any team coming in would have to be willing to do so at a discount. Who would do that? SMU, for one, who’s already publicly begged for the spot. And I’m pretty sure BYU would as well.

Odds of this happening: Very good.

Scenario 2: The Big 12 disbands.

With only nine teams remaining, OU, OSU, and others may decide to get out while they have the chance. OU, OSU, and Tech go to the Pac-12. Missouri goes to the Big Ten. Kansas and K-State go to the Big East. Baylor goes to the Mountain West. And Iowa State goes, um, somewhere. And Texas? They go independent, happy to still be flush with cash on their very own burnt orange island. Would this really happen? Maybe eventually, but I don’t think any time soon. As long as OU keeps winning Big 12 titles, they’ll probably be content to stay, and none of the other conferences have expressed much interest in expanding further. So if the Big 12 eventually breaks up, it probably won’t happen for at least a few more years.

Odds of this happening: Unlikely.

Scenario 3: The Big 12 does nothing.

But what if the Big 12 chooses to stay at nine members? Is that even realistic? Well, the Big East only has eight teams right now, nine if you count TCU, which joins next year. And they’re an AQ conference. And with two of the Big 12 being Texas and OU, I can’t see them losing their AQ status. So in a way, there’s not that much of an incentive to rush to fill the 10th spot. Only when it becomes financially necessary to do so will the Big 12 be forced to expand. Why do you think they chose not to replace Nebraska and Colorado? How sustainable is such a scenario in the long run? Not much. But again, that’s in the long run. In the short run, it’s actually very doable.

Odds of this happening: Possible.

Obviously, nothing in college sports is set in stone. Heck, it’s even possible that A&M could change its mind if the SEC doesn’t give it an invite. All I know is that the college football season kicks off tomorrow with TCU and Baylor. And right now, that’s all that matters.

Previously:
Wait, that was it?!
Speculating on conference expansion rumors
Longhorns Inc., Part 2
Longhorns Inc.

Previously:
The Microsoft Kin: For social media or world domination
Where have I seen this before?

The most damning part of the SI article, though, is the description of Tressel as both “the Christian who lifted kids out of troubled neighborhoods” and “the coach who claimed to have been kept in the dark after he had assiduously avoided the light.”

In other words, he wasn’t just ignorant of violations, he consciously chose — time and again — to look the other way, all while maintaining his straight-laced Christian image.

Of course, scandals involving celebrities, pro athletes, and politicians are nothing new, and compared to a lot of other recent scandals, Tressel’s transgressions may seem rather minimal. But they’re not. At the very least, he actively ignored a systemic pattern of corruption; at worst, he actually encouraged it. Either way, he’s guilty of not putting an end to it when he had the opportunity.

As is so often the case, Tressel’s sin wasn’t just a single occurrence, a momentary lapse in judgment. It may have started that way, but clearly it grew over time, much like in the Biblical account of David and Bathsheba. In David’s case, it started with him noticing a woman taking a bath. Had he turned away and ended it there, it wouldn’t have been any big deal. But he chose to take it a little further, asking who she was. Then further by having her brought to him so he could have sex with her. Had he ended it there and repented, there would’ve been consequences, but at least it would’ve been over. Instead, he covered it up, and had Bathsheba not gotten pregnant, it would’ve been hidden forever. When she revealed that she was with child, David again could’ve admitted to his mistakes, but he didn’t. He hatched a plan for Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, to sleep with her so that he would think the child was his. When that failed, David once more chose not to come clean and instead had Uriah killed. What had started as a rather innocuous accident had snowballed into a devastating scandal that cost an innocent man his life and nearly cost David his.

The point is this: I don’t think Jim Tressel ever set out in his coaching career planning on fostering an environment of corruption, but that’s what Ohio State became in part due to the smaller, incremental choices that he made along the way. And the same thing can happen to anyone. What seems like a rather innocent mistake with few repercussions can quickly escalate if we don’t deal with it immediately.

The scandal involving Tressel and Ohio State is still unfolding and may not be fully understood for quite some time, but if nothing else, it should serve as a warning to each of us of the dangers of avoiding the light.

Previously:
What happens next?
‘Sin is a condition, not necessarily an action’
Longhorns Inc., Part 2
Sorry, Leach is not ‘the best college football coach in the country’

But here’s what I came up with. As always, I highly recommend not taking any of my advice, as I’m almost certainly wrong about 90% of these games. Consider yourself warned.

East Region. I think there’ll be a lot surprises in this region. As with most of my picks, I played it safe here, choosing the higher-seeded teams in most cases. But I’m expecting an admittedly-overrated Syracuse team to upset North Carolina. Ohio State, however, is still the clear favorite.

West Region. I really, really, really want to see Texas make it to the Final Four, and I think they have a really, really, really good shot at it. That said, I’m picking Duke to beat the Horns and face San Diego State in the Elite Eight. The Blue Devils won’t make it past the Aztecs, though.

Southwest Region. Last year, I predicted that Kansas would win the whole thing. Yeah, that didn’t work out too well. The Jayhawks lost to a team that I still contend doesn’t actually exist. But that was last year. I’ve since forgiven KU for their complete and utter ineptitude and expect them to make it past Louisville and Notre Dame to win the region.

Southeast Region. Two years ago when I first blogged my March Madness predictions, I picked Pitt to win, and of course they let me down just like Kansas did a year later. This time around, I think they’ll make it past K-State, but I’m picking the Mormons of BYU to make it to the Final Four. And yes, if I’m right, that would mean that two of the Final Four teams are from the Mountain West. Once again proving I have no idea what I’m doing.

Championship. Perhaps foolishly, I’m going with Kansas again to make it to the National Championship to face obvious frontrunner Ohio State. And as much as I hate the Buckeyes (and I can’t even begin to tell you how much I hate the Buckeyes), I have to pick them to win out.

Here are the rest of my picks. Click to enlarge.

Previously:
March Madness: My picks
March Madness 2010: My picks
March Madness: Bracket busted
Forget March Madness. Make the whole season a playoff

Every year before, during, and after college football season, the anti-BCS crowd (which is legion) trots out to exclaim how evil the Bowl Championship Series is and how only a true playoff system would right its many wrongs. All in the name of fairness, they cry. And I suppose I’m a member of that crowd, having written at length about the current system’s lack of fairness and underlying motive to generate as much money as possible (see here, here, here, here, here, aaand… here).

But I don’t think anyone outside of BCS corporate headquarters really questions the unfair nature of the current bowl system. I mean, all anyone has to do is look at this year’s season to see that using polls and computers to choose a national champion is a joke. Auburn, Oregon, and TCU all finished the regular season undefeated, yet TCU was shut out of a chance to play for the title. Why? Because the voters and computers decided it was so.

So surely a playoff system is the answer, right? Give the little guys as much of a chance to win as the big boys. Let the debate be settled on the field rather than on paper. Then everything will be perfect.

Except that it won’t.

I’ve mentioned before about how according to a couple of economists, the BCS is statistically fairer than a playoff system. Their argument is that no matter how big the bracket is, somebody is gonna be left out. But the bigger you make it, the less fair it becomes because it diminishes the accomplishments of the top-seeded teams. And how could a playoff system be considered fair if statistically better teams fall to statistically worse ones?

Joe Posnanski at Sports Illustrated further expands on this idea by pointing out how flawed the NFL’s playoff system is:

Is a playoff really MORE FAIR? What does fair even mean? This year in college football, the BCS system had Oregon play Auburn for a trophy they called the national championship trophy. This left out other very good teams, particularly undefeated TCU. This wasn’t fair. There was much griping about it, and rightfully so. It is absurd and somewhat arrogant to believe that we can use our eyes and our computer systems and our innate sense of the game to look at more than 100 Division I football teams playing somewhat self-determined schedules and simply pick the two best teams. The flaws in the system are obvious.

But aren’t the playoff flaws obvious, too? This year in the NFL, the playoff system included a seven-win team and took one 10-6 wild-card team while leaving two other 10-6 teams at home. The system made a 12-win team and two 11-win teams go on the road for their first game, while three teams with 10 or fewer wins (including the NFL’s first seven-win playoff team) played home games. This year, the NFL rewarded New England and Atlanta for their 14- and 13-win seasons by giving them an extra week to heal and home field advantage. This seems like a seismic advantage. But is it really? We cannot argue that they promptly lost convincingly — making that one loss much more important than their stellar 16-game seasons. We cannot argue that 12 of the last 24 bye teams have lost their first playoff game.

Let me repeat that stat: Since 2005, the top-seeded (i.e. most deserving) NFL teams have lost in the first round of the playoffs 50 percent of the time. Posnanski goes on to speculate why this is, but regardless of the reason, his point is that they lost nonetheless. Is that fair? Strictly speaking, no.

The bottom line is that while picking a national champion with a computer is hardly perfect, a playoff system may not ideal either. Both systems have flaws. Both could be considered unfair. Both are — in the real world — driven by money rather than a sense of justice. Not that I’m defending the BCS, mind you. I still think some sort of playoff system, regardless of its potential flaws, is better than what we have now.

Just don’t expect too much of it.

Previously:
Legislating a playoff system isn’t the answer
‘Fairness Index’ doesn’t prove the BCS is fair
The BCS: ‘Communistic’ or not?
Yes, the BCS is flawed. What’s your point?