CFN blasts choice of OU in Orange Bowl

[TitanTiger 20,511]

Excellent article.

http://www.collegefootballnews.com/2004/Bo...ngeNotebook.htm

[tiger1432 0]

please post the article im unable to go to CFN

[woods1110 0]

In the wake of a shockingly lopsided Orange Bowl, it’s time for a collection of thoughts to tie up this just-ended college football season with a nice little bow.

First, and most importantly, time for a little perspective on this historic USC rout of Oklahoma.

There’s a game in the annals of college football history that offers a clear parallel with the 2005 Orange Bowl: the 1996 Fiesta Bowl.

Before even writing another word, can you already see the connections and similarities?

In 1994, Nebraska won a national title, albeit a title (typically) shrouded in controversy in a debate with Penn State.

In 2003, USC won a share of the national title, albeit a title that primarily belonged to LSU, winner of the BCS championship game against Oklahoma. USC called itself champions, but that distinction was filled with controversy in its own right.

In 1995, Nebraska picked up where it left off. In 2004, USC picked up where it left off the year before as well.

In the 1996 Fiesta Bowl, Nebraska played a complete game, but a game in which it did fall behind in the very early going (3-0).

In the 2005 Orange Bowl, USC played a complete game, but a game in which it did trail in the first few minutes (7-0).

In the ’96 Fiesta, Nebraska rang up 62. In the 2005 Orange, USC tallied 55.

In the ’96 Fiesta, the embarrassed victim was Steve Spurrier. In the ’05 Orange, the humiliated loser was a man partially mentored by Spurrier, Bob Stoops.

In the ’96 Fiesta, Nebraska and Florida were viewed as relative equals. In the ’05 Orange, USC and Oklahoma were viewed in the same way, with Vegas and most observers expecting a very close game.

In the ’96 Fiesta, the losing team entered play as a decorated 12-0 team that won its conference without a sweat during the regular season, culminating in a laughably easy conference championship game win against a weak sister from the opposite division (Florida ripped Arkansas, 34-3.)

In the ’05 Orange, Oklahoma fit all the same criteria that applied to the ’95 Gators: 12-0, conference champ, and victor over a weak Colorado team in the Big XII title game.

In the ’96 Fiesta, there was Tommy Frazier shaking 25 Florida tacklers on one humiliating play.

In the ’05 Orange, there was Mark Bradley muffing a punt at his own 2, with several USC players right around him, waiting to pounce.

Click to learn more...

The 1996 Fiesta Bowl—given its dynamics—rightfully cemented the ’95 Huskers as an all-time great team, so it is only appropriate that the 2005 Orange Bowl should make the 2004 Trojans a legendary college football squad as well.

Yes, it is clear that USC is the number one team in the country and the deserving national champion under the BCS system. But just as clear is the fact that the BCS, on the raw merits, got the wrong matchup in the Orange Bowl. Many people might still wonder why emotion, desire, and other qualities seem so irrelevant to football. These are the people who think that football is confined only to X-and-O matchups and technical, physical prowess. The extent to which Auburn’s desire was praised in the Sugar Bowl appeared—to many observers—to be a cheap, hollow and disingenuous way of saying that Auburn really didn’t measure up to USC. In other words, if you praise a team’s emotional makeup, that’s code for saying that they’re not a better team physically or athletically… at least, that’s what many people think.

That’s a load of hooey.

To separate emotion from college football games and the teams that play in each game is to ignore the role of emotion in football itself. It should be obvious that football is, in fact, all about emotion. Teams who sell out on each play will—all other factors being equal—thrive to an extent that other teams don’t. In the world of college football analysis, it’s high time that any person who follows the sport must factor emotion and mental toughness into the larger equation that tries to evaluate the top teams in the land. The teams that are mentally tough are the teams that win. In the big games, the close games, and the tough games, the teams whose minds are right will prevail. Moreover, saying that a team was or wasn’t emotionally ready is not an excuse: the great teams will simply BE ready, and the second-rate teams simply WON’T be ready. Elite teams won’t make excuses in the face of adversity or complain about being in a bowl game; second-rate teams will.

So in light of all the bowl games that have capped the 2004 season, it’s pretty clear that Auburn is better than Oklahoma. Does this mean Auburn has more talent than the Sooners? Not necessarily. But what makes the difference between the Tigers and OU? Why, it would be emotion, of course. The Tigers proved their mental toughness through 13 games, while the Sooners, in their thirteenth contest, buckled when they tasted hardship against an elite team. Did USC flash the full extent of its talent against the Sooners? Sure, it did. But while 50 percent of the Orange Bowl rout was due to the Trojans’ mastery of the sport of football, the other 50 percent was due to the fact that a whole team, especially its sixth-year senior quarterback, mentally crumbled.

To say that OU had a mental meltdown does not mean that the Sooners have minimal talent, or less talent than previously thought. No, to note the Sooners’ el-foldo in Miami is to simply say that they were emotional weaklings… TALENTED MENTAL MIDGETS, but midgets nevertheless. Emotion—or rather, the Sooners’ lack of it—was a revealing insight into the Oklahoma team. Noting the mental wimpiness of the Sooners does not mean that OU merely “had an off night.” The Sooners—perhaps more talented than Auburn, at least on offense (especially when you consider the Sugar Bowl the night before)—are nevertheless an inferior team compared to the Tigers. This statement can be made—and made confidently—not because emotion is irrelevant to the debate, but precisely because emotion is very much a CORE PART of the discussion. Emotion, very simply, is part of the basic collection of factors by which teams should be judged. Saying a team’s emotions were good is not a cheap compliment, and noting a team’s poor mental mindset (like Oklahoma’s in this 2005 Orange Bowl) is not a way of excusing a team’s poor performance. Let that be clear.

With all that being said, then, USC—while a clear No. 1—would have gotten a competitive game from Auburn. Why? The Tigers wouldn’t have emotionally cracked. One can tangibly cite emotion as a real and central reason why Tommy Tuberville’s team would have tested Pete Carroll’s crew. Auburn would have respected the honor, privilege and responsibility of being in the BCS title game (a subjectively-based title game), something Oklahoma clearly failed to do. So while USC is obviously the national champion, there’s something wrong about an Auburn team having to see USC become number one without the Tigers getting to play them. It’s bitterly ironic, isn’t it: Oklahoma—first by stealing Auburn’s spot in the Orange Bowl and then by laying down for USC—did two very tangible things to help the Trojans to an undisputed title that Auburn could do nothing about. Think about it: going into the bowl season, the college football community viewed USC, OU and Auburn as very similar teams. But after the bowls, Auburn—without playing USC—becomes a distant second to the Trojans, anyway. That’s weird, but even worse, it’s wrong, and kudos to the folks at College Gameday—after their lackluster display of corporate (ABC/ESPN/BCS) brown-nosing—for regaining their journalistic integrity and decrying the unjust, unfair, and fundamentally broken nature of the BCS system.

A final word on the BCS, and about college football as opposed to pro football: with an NFL-style playoff system, two things exist in the pro game that don’t exist in college football:

1) When you reach a title game in the pros, you’re there solely on the merits, and therefore do not have to represent any team other than yourself.

If you lose in the Super Bowl, you will always be the champions of your conference and the second-best team in pro football. You have no obligations toward any other teams. On the other hand, the participants in the BCS title game have an obligation—toward their member conferences and the teams they displaced for a spot in the game—to acquit themselves well. In the NFL, losing the big game is never a disgrace, for getting to the Super Bowl is an enormously tough—and prized—achievement to attain. But in the college game, the reality of a subjectively-determined championship game—as this one was—demanded that OU acquit itself well, for the Big XII but also for the sake of Auburn. OU didn’t have to win, but by quitting outright in the middle of the second quarter, the Sooners didn’t just lose a game: they lost respect. I usually praise teams who lose in the big game, because American culture is way too harsh toward second-place teams in any sport. But on this occasion, an exception must be made: Oklahoma, by embarrassing itself, truly deprived Auburn of a moment and privilege the Tigers would have surely honored with more passion and competitiveness.

2) In the NFL, each season is its own separate journey, while in college ball, the continuity of certain teams from year to year creates a climate in which teams are often judged, positively or negatively, for events from previous seasons.

This dynamic stems from two clear realities: first, OU’s two straight BCS title game losses, and second, USC’s domination of Auburn in September of 2003. Because of OU’s title game defeats in very sloppy offensive performances—not to mention Nebraska’s loss in the 2002 Rose Bowl—there will be an uproar from all non-Big XII fans next year for a Big XII team to be denied a spot in the 2006 national title game—the Rose Bowl—if there’s any remote debate about the final two teams who should play in Pasadena. Similarly, the Trojans’ dismantling of Auburn in Auburn 16 months ago was, is, and will continue to be cited by USC fans as a central reason why the Trojans are conclusively better than Auburn. And while USC backers will certainly have an element of undeniable truth on their side, it’s impossible to deny the fact that this Auburn team is very different from the underachieving 2003 squad. More importantly, it’s unfair to judge the 2004 Tigers—relative to USC in a two-team comparison—based on something that happened in a completely different season. But many people, understandably but nevertheless incorrectly and unfairly, engage in not only cross-season speculation, but cross-season judgmentalism. That’s unfair.

One of the few merits of pro football is that each season stands on its own. You don’t get Falcons fans complaining about the Eagles and the fact that Philadelphia no longer deserves to play in the NFC Championship Game. Just imagine: if the NFL was organized like the BCS, you’d have a massive amount of people saying that Andy Reid’s team should not play for its conference crown, because after all, the Eagles biffed it in the NFC title game the three previous seasons: why allow them back? That’s a grossly faulty line of thinking. Auburn should not be punished because of what USC did to them… in September of 2003. But of course, the Tigers were punished: after all, that 2003 loss certainly contributed to Auburn being ranked 17th in the 2004 preseason polls, and it was that preseason ranking—behind No. 1 USC and No. 2 Oklahoma—that kept the Tigers out of the Orange Bowl more than anything else. Next year, after their two straight BCS title game losses, the Sooners will have their lowest preseason ranking in years. But if OU rallies around the flag and goes 12-0, will the 2005 Sooners be like the 2004 Tigers, as an undefeated team that nevertheless missed the BCS title game just because pollsters punished them for something that happened the year before? It will be interesting to see.

Hopefully, this pattern of allowing one year’s results to affect the next year’s rankings will disappear. But realistically, in a woefully subjective and horribly managed business—for that’s what college football has become, in all its administrative hypocrisy from conference commissioners and university presidents who continue to insult the intelligence of fans and journalists everywhere—we’re not likely to get that kind of detached, cerebral and even-handed thinking anytime soon.