System. What a word — it indicates order, organization, cohesion to a sense. It surrounds things and ideas and people, possessing control through a somewhat-agreed-upon set of rules and hierarchy. But it’s malleable, too, reducing all this unnecessary complexity into something we can understand. Something we can operate within.
It’s a word that’s come to define college football through its past decade or so, really starting when Florida won in 2006, but hinted when Nick Saban and LSU won in 2003. You had simple, wildly effective systems (Florida), a systematic empire of inevitability (Alabama), rule-bending of systems (Auburn), systemized chaos (LSU, Florida State), and now Ohio State, which we’re still trying to figure out.
If you want, the word can extend even farther, as its wont to do, encapsulating even more of the college football landscape. Changing systems of who’s supreme between the BCS and CFP for instance. It mightily heightened the regular season, what with talk of who’s best or who’s not every single week and (in theory) created better competitive representation in the end. Those two semifinal games were such fun because they extended that uncontrollable, anything-can-happen-at-any-time spirit of the season for another week. But I’m still not sure about it. Not as a Florida State fan*, but as a college football fan. Taking a step back here, it’s not that the No. 4-seeded team won; it’s that’s whether it was Ohio State or TCU (but probably not Baylor), the No. 4-seeded team would’ve won regardless. Both those teams were the two hottest entering the postseason, rewarded for clicking into its highest rhythm at the right time.** But that’s pro ball, not college ball that system. Nothing needs to be changed just yet, but new systems deserve to be questioned, side-eyed, not heartily embraced like a long-lost teddy bear.
*No matter who they faced or where they played, FSU was losing. I can admit this readily after the fact, but would never have beforehand. Fandom’s about willful ignorance and loving misshapen, broken things. Or something like that.
**The month off didn’t help anyone, by the way. It hurt Florida State, who looked like they had relaxed a little too much. Saban let Kiffin whisper a bit many sweet nothings into his ear, seducing him into trusting him more than he should or has. And Oregon’s always gonna Oregon. As high-flying, fast tempo everyone labels them, the Ducks pretty much stay the same regardless of opponent or game. Defenses can force them to downshift, but Oregon’s never had an extra gear to that offense. (Though I’m unsure how realistic that is.)
And though I prefer not to admit it, media narratives have systemized to a degree. With the rise of Twitter and online media, everyone knows what everyone else is thinking or feeling. And if you don’t know, people will be sure to (quite eagerly) inform you. What’s more, whatever you do believe (or think you believe), there’s usually enough others to band together and never confront an alternate reality. Most play roles now instead of speaking what they think or feel. What a brave new world we live in.
Because of this, we receive the same pre-packaged, easily digestible storylines each year. The team that’s finally putting it all together. The guy who’s dedicated to practice now and grown from his mistakes. The coach who just needs to retire or move on (usually, this guy’s a legend of some sort to his school; see: Bobby Bowden, Mack Brown, et al.) (Bob Stoops will be this guy next year.) And my favorite: The old build-em-up-tear-em-down. Here we go, past five years: Jameis Winston. Johnny Manziel. Manti Te’o. Tyrann Mathieu. Nick Saban. Cam Newton. Need I continue?
I mean, how many times must we lionize then demonize, lionize then demonize, lion-demon, good-bad, G.O.A.T.-scapegoat these dudes? Call it unnecessary moralizing or appropriate reporting (the answer’s obvious) — but I just find it so boring. Who cares?
Regardless, what we saw Monday night was one system better calibrated than the other. Ohio State’s reached a little higher. When both systems broke down — which they did, multiple times throughout the night before resetting — one dude faltered, and the other sort of made it up as he went. Cardale Jones ran over guys, threw risky balls around, and didn’t panic. Simply put: He was just more creative than Marcus Mariota. Jones accomplished more with less.
Still, as successful as Jones was, it was the traditional Meyer system surrounding him that propelled him there. It’s not so much as shocking that Ohio State won as it is surprising we didn’t notice them. (Which is what happens when you lose your starting QB and lose to that Virginia Tech team. People don’t forget.) Meyer’s been doing the system thing since his days at Utah, so to think Oregon’s glitzy, (kind of) gimmicky offense was better is more about hype than reasoning.
These systems may seem oppressing, but that’s kind of the point. They’re meant to smoke out weakness, stunt opposition, trick individuals into a higher order. With more available means to recruit players than ever, schools need systems to reload every year; this isn’t the late 80s or 90s when Miami had privilege to most of the South Florida recruits or USC and UCLA claimed all the Cali kids. Coaches organized before but not like this, not where a team can somehow not miss a beat on its third-string quarterback who then outplays the Heisman winner in the biggest game of the year. Individuals cease their importance in these systems, another dummy to be replaced whenever another falls. It works.