Share on facebook
Share on google
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin

I am neither an alarmist nor a Cassandra, but I genuinely fear that college football has been blown up while we fans looked on numbly and meekly, cloaked only in naivete.  

Blown up. I labored over that term for several minutes. But I don’t think that’s an exaggeration. Or, as the Old Man says at least half dozen times a day, “That’s not hyperbole.”

Blown up. Detonated. Destroyed.

This insane, unhinged, rabid money grab will prove to be a mass murder-suicide.

College football is emotion, and really nothing more. Rivalries matter. Conferences matter. Traditions matter. Histories matter. Regionalism matters. Romantic fantasies matter.

In fact, the entire sport is built on romantic fantasies. College football has always required our suspension of disbelief.

“College players play for the love of the game.”

“College football is purer than the pros.”

“College players love their schools. And especially their teammates and coaches.”

“I’m pretty sure that cheerleader loves me.”

The sport can no longer be presented as a sweet romantic fantasy.

These presidents, AD’s and TV execs are just high-end hookers turning high-priced tricks.

What’s that old joke? “Madam, we have established what you are, now we are merely haggling over price.”

This will prove to be mass murder-suicide. First, dozens of small and “mid-major” football programs will be slaughtered.

That will leave us with 32 premeditated murderers. But they will ultimately die at their own hands. And it may not even take very long.

Because tv ratings will plummet. Stadium attendance will tank. Merchandise sales will plummet. Advertisers and sponsors will head for the hills.

And alumni and booster donations will dry up. Hmm. Now you have the attention of university presidents and athletic directors.

In very short order, nobody will care anymore. And that’s bad for business.

Nobody will care about the sport they’ve always cared the most about.

“What’s love got to do with it?”


And this is now purely “transactional.”

This Golden Goose is cooked.

Blind greed has taken the rah out of “rah-rah.” And “rah-rah” has always been the sport’s core product.

See? Once again, “trickle down economics” will prove disastrous.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Paul's Bio

I clearly have the attention span of your median fruit fly.Look! Airplane!

Sorry. I’m back.

It’s both a curse and a blessing. I’ve never bought this stuff about, “He who dies with the most toys wins.” But I do think that a wide range of life experiences helps us grow as people, and helps us better relate to other people. I’ve been fortunate. And I am beyond grateful.

I show up on time. I go like hell. I’m a good listener. I hold myself accountable. I own my mistakes. And I have a natural and an insatiable curiosity. I’m never afraid to say, “I don’t know,” when I don’t. But then I try to find out.

The flip side is I’m a lousy ballroom dancer and my clothes sometimes fit me funny.

Stuff matters to me. I care. But while I take that stuff seriously, I try hard to never take myself seriously. As a result, I have sometimes been told, “Paul, it’s hard to tell when you’re serious and when you’re just having some fun. Which is it? Serious or fun?”

My answer is “yes.” But I think that is a legitimate criticism. I promise I’m going to work on that.

This has been the quickest and strangest half-century I’ve ever experienced. During that period, I’ve been afforded amazing opportunities in news and sports journalism across all platforms. I have taught wonderful students at the high school and collegiate level. Always, I learned more from them than they did from me. I’ve been a high school administrator. I spent ten seasons as a high school varsity football coach. I’ve been an advertising executive. I’ve hosted nationally syndicated television entertainment shows. In maybe the biggest honor I ever received, I was selected by NASA to be “Chet The Astronaut” for the “Land The Shuttle” simulator at Space Center Houston. (All I can say there, is “Do as I say, not as I do.” I put that thing in the Everglades more often than not.) Most recently, I just wrapped up a decade as a television news director, during which time our teams distinguished themselves in holding the powerful accountable, achieving both critical and ratings success.

What does all that mean? It means I am profoundly grateful. It also means I’m ready for “next.” So here we are. Radically Rational. It’s an idea I woke up with in 2017. I scribbled “Radically Rational” on a piece of notebook paper and used a magnet to stick it on our refrigerator. I saw it every day, and it just would not leave me alone.

I am second in charge at Radically Rational, LLC. My wife, Jo (also known as BB), is the president. Clearly, I have failed in my attempt to sleep my way to the top of this organization.

I hope you will learn that I’m loyal as a Labrador. But I will admit that this doggie can bite every now and then. My promise to you? I will show up on time. I will go like hell. I will listen to you earnestly and attentively. I will hold myself accountable. I will never be the least bit hesitant to say, “I don’t know,” when I don’t.

But then I’ll try to find out. Let’s do it.