When the next pandemic rolls around at least the college football-playing part of the world will be so much better prepared. It will have the model of the Big Ten Conference in 2020 and plenty of examples of what not to do.
Like don’t panic early and shutter up the shop and expect everyone else to follow your enlightened lead.
Then, when they don’t and all the other big guys are somehow muddling through and the party bus has left you behind, don’t jump back in thinking you can squeeze eight games into an eight-week window with no room at all for the inevitable halts and hitches.
And, for heaven’s sake, don’t bake any hard and fast rule into your restart like, say, a requirement to play a minimum six games to qualify for your conference championship. Because hard and fast doesn’t work when you’re trying to grab as much money and exposure as possible during a crisis. You have to be able to bend like Gumby doing hot yoga in times like these.
Just look at how the ACC has shape-shifted this year. Since 2013, Notre Dame has deigned stick one toe into the conference while maintaining a haughty football independence. It will dance with this partner, mind you, but only at a distance, and nothing slow. Then comes a year when so many options disappeared, and the ACC was only too happy to take in the Fighting Irish as a full partner even if they may well just flit off again when times are better. This is no time for silly pride.
And then, just to ensure that nothing gets in the way of a Clemson-Notre Dame rematch in the ACC Championship game, the conference conveniently tossed out weekend make-up games for both teams.
That’s how you massage rules and schedules for max benefit in a season when no one is working out of the same playbook.
Which leads us to Wednesday, as the Big Ten grappled with its Ohio State problem. A problem greatly of its own making and one with implications admittedly not all that momentous in the bigger picture of this pandemic’s toll. But it could affect my selfish enjoyment of New Year’s Day playoff football, so, that’s something.
It was common this year to not play the Buckeyes. The latest of three opponents to fall out because of COVID concerns was Michigan. A rivalry that immodestly goes by The Game and has gone unbroken since WWI was cracked by a virus dismissive of history.
Ohio State’s record now stands at 5-0-3 (wins-losses-abundance of caution). One of the Buckeyes’ lost games trace to their own coronavirus issues, but, still, because of circumstances largely beyond their control, they did not met the conference’s arbitrary six-game minimum. So, by rule – and if the Big Ten decreed it, it must surely be holy writ – they shouldn’t play in next week’s Big Ten Championship game.
When faced with hobbling its cash cow and possibly endangering its standing in the College Football Playoff, the Big Ten did the only prudent thing. It folded. It rewrote the rules, dropping the six-game minimum. Easy as that.
That’s how it’s done in 2020. Everything is subject to change. There is no room for absolutes. Now the Buckeyes can beat Northwestern in the Big Ten Championship game Dec. 19 and make its claim as the most lightly tested college playoff team ever.
The self-appointed big brain of college football could not be allowed to out-think this problem. The Big Ten had to float on the same tide of uncertainty as everyone else.
Ohio State is clearly the class of the conference. Ohio State has Justin Fields. Ohio State has big brand recognition. Ohio State is just supposed to have a standing reservation in the playoff. For maximum viewing pleasure, all neutral observers should want the Buckeyes in the final four mix.
Fairness, though, demands a hard look at the paltry number of games played by OSU this year, for whatever the reason. Its body of work is undernourished. At this stage, it has played just 62% of the games of, say 8-0 Cincinnati and 7-1 Texas A&M and just 55% of the games of 8-1 Florida. When lining up the playoff field, shouldn’t the smaller sample size and the significantly reduced risk and wear and tear be held against the Buckeyes?
And consider this scenario: Say Clemson with Trevor Lawrence back in the fold beats Notre Dame in next week’s ACC Championship game (real possibility). And Florida beats Alabama in the SEC Championship game (real long shot). Then you’d have four one-loss teams all with thicker resumes than Ohio State. Fans of mayhem no doubt will root for that result.
Admittedly nothing adds up this year, and that includes the number of games that makes up a legitimate season. Just getting to a playoff of any kind – still not a sure thing, by the way – will be an accomplishment that overshadows all the usual nitpicking and second-guessing over the field.
And here in COVID-19 ball of confusion, we are left with one clear conclusion: The Buckeyes loom as the perfect champion for 2020.
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