For ages, certainly as long as we have been in the College Football Playoff age, people have politely asked and desperately pleaded, when were some new bloods finally going to replace the blue bloods on college football’s biggest postseason stage?
Well, folks, the age of new is officially the age of now.
The promise of the four-team CFP versus the two-team Bowl Championship Series title game was to create more room for more teams to challenge the same old establishment. One year ago, the impetus behind the playoff’s further expansion to a dozen teams was to widen that door even further and perhaps interject a little March Madness into college football.
It’s working. At least for now, it is. And fittingly, it’s a basketball school that is leading the movement.
For the first time since the CFP debuted at the end of the 2014 season, the playoff’s final four lineup does not include Alabama, Georgia, Ohio State or Clemson. And over those first 11 editions, any team that did manage to break the big four’s big box déjà vu blockade to earn a spot in the semis or final … well, they weren’t exactly George Mason ’06 or Loyola Chicago ’18.
Notre Dame made it to the title game one year ago, following Michigan’s 2023 run to the championship. But no one is going to mistake the Irish and Wolverines for UMBC and VCU. The closest we came to a true CFP Cinderella run was TCU in 2022, when the Horned Frogs crashed the big ball in Los Angeles, only to have Georgia take away their glass slipper and beat them over their horned heads with it 65-7.
However, this year’s fortuitous foursome — with Ole Miss facing Miami on Thursday night and Indiana taking on Oregon on Friday — is guaranteed to bring us a new-age champion, no matter who winds up standing atop the stage at Hard Rock Stadium on Jan. 19. And it won’t merely be the boldest new-blood dash of the CFP era, but also of nearly the entire BCS era that began in 1998. Or, honestly, even the Bowl Alliance, the Bowl Coalition or the plain old Bowl era that reaches back more than a century.
No matter your age, you know that Indiana has never had a football golden age until now. No offense to Coach Corso and the 1979 Holiday Bowl champs or Vaughn Dunbar and the 1991 Copper Bowl victors or even Antwaan Randle-El and Anthony Thompson, but that’s really as good as it ever got. The good people of Bloomington were content to let the Irish be the state’s football school with occasional loan-outs to Purdue, while everyone waited for hoops season to finally tip off.
IU has fielded football teams since 1887, but the Hoosiers hadn’t posted double-digit wins in a season until the past two years and hadn’t won an outright Big Ten title since 1945, nor had they won a Big Ten championship game or a Rose Bowl until these past six weeks. Should they win it all, someone needs to let the kids of the 1954 Milan High Indians and Jimmy Chitwood’s Hickory Huskers know that they are no longer the greatest underdog story in “Hoosiers” history.
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If you are of a certain age, then you remember when Oregon was really bad at football. As in, most of the 20th century. From 1893 through 1993, the Ducks made exactly three Rose Bowl trips, two of those prior to 1920. They did win seven conference championships, but six of those were shared with other teams; their only outright title came in the four-game Oregon Intercollegiate Football Association campaign of 1895. When they made it to the 1992 Poulan Weed Eater Independence Bowl, it was a very big deal … and they lost that game to Wake Forest.
But the revolutionary football evolution that followed, fueled by Oregon grad Phil Knight and the little shoe company he started on the Eugene campus back in the day, was every bit the equivalent to what Indiana is doing now. They turned around a battleship in a bathtub. But even the dapper dayglo Ducks we’ve known since then — from Joey Harrington’s towering likeness in Times Square and Marcus Mariota’s Heisman win of 2014 to Chip Kelly, Earth’s funniest mascot and those bazillion uniform combinations — Oregon has yet to win a national title, despite two appearances in the BCS/CFP finals, the last coming a decade ago with Mariota behind center.
If you are of the Gen X age, then you knew the unstoppable machine that was The U. But your kids and grandkids have never seen the Miami Hurricanes on college football’s biggest stage. Unless you’ve shown them the Canes dynasty 30 for 30 films on the ESPN App or you’ve made them watch standard definition footage of Ed Reed, Jeremy Shockey & Co. winning the 2001 BCS title (shoutout to Larry Coker), then they only know Miami football as the embodiment of #goacc.
So many preseason predictions of “The U is back!” have ended with Sebastian the Ibis flat on his back in the Everglades mud. Miami’s biggest postseason victory since it beat Nebraska on that January night in Pasadena — so far back the Canes were still a member of the Big East — was, what? The 2016 Russell Athletic Bowl?
And speaking of ages, unless you were an Ole Miss student during the Space Age, you’ve never seen the Rebels fitted for a real championship ring. Fact: There are few, if any, Saturday college football experiences as glorious as strolling The Grove, red Solo cup in hand. The best food served by the most beautiful people beneath tents taken straight out of home decorating magazines beneath magnolia trees taken straight out of Southern Living magazine. We all know about Archie and Eli Manning, about Deuce McAllister and Jaxson Dart.
But also a fact: When you enter Vaught-Hemingway Stadium, you are struck first by how well everyone is dressed. Then you realize how naked that stadium’s walls are when it comes to addressing the program’s championship seasons. The 2003 SEC West Co-Division champions? The 1963 SEC champions? The ’62 national champions, a title bestowed upon the Rebels by the Litkenhous Difference by Score Ratings system (we’re not making that up!) while USC was dubbed the champ by the major polls? The Rebels’ last natty was their third in four years, but it was won so long ago that Johnny Vaught, the name that adorns their stadium, was still coach, and JFK was in the White House.
The point of this four-part, four-team history lesson is not to harp on those programs’ longtime struggles to insert themselves into college football’s most exclusive room, or return to that room after a generational absence, or to finally be able to take care of business once they do get in there.
Reliving the statistical pain of this year’s playoff survivors is to give us all the proper perspective on what it will mean for the one squad that manages to emerge from this quirky quartet to finally hoist the big gold trophy. Also, to fully recognize the realization of a much-demanded postseason team transfusion.
Y’all have been asking for it. Well, now we’ve got it. The new age of new CFP blood has arrived. Enjoy it now, folks, because 156 years of college football history tells us the blue bloods never stay out of power for long. Then again, that same history would have tried to tell us that this quadrumvirate was never going to happen in the first place. And that’s why, as the semifinal kickoffs loom, it feels like it could be, yes, one for the ages.
