Texas in the Age of Disillusionment

A couple of weeks ago, somewhere in Austin, Texas, the regents for the University of Texas got together and sat down to talk about possible conference realignment. The discussion was pointed - if the Big 12 didn't pony up the cash, there was no reason to stay - and the president, Bill Powers had a short conversation with his athletic director, Deloss Dodds, about what was in Texas' best interests.

Dodds probably told Powers one of two things: first, Texas didn't need the money, but they needed some exposure. The idea of a Pac-16 was a charming one, but having Texas float it's own boat with it's own network? - that was an idea touched by Midas. Second, Dodds probably told Powers that time was needed. Dodds saw the Big 12 like most saw the Alamo - a good place for a last stand. The imminency of two superpowers colliding - one from the west, one from the north - had made the Texan soil more prone to erosion than it once had been, but everyone knew not to "mess with Texas," and the school was already viable enough, financially and academically, to hold it's own ground until the current affiliation proved unnecessary. Essentially, time could be bought.

It was generally assumed that there were two golden tickets for expanding conferences not named the Southeastern Conference. And those were Texas and Notre Dame. Both were elusive, and both had such a firm grasp over the media that they could change public opinion by leaking controlled stories to internet affiliates (such as Orangebloods.com and various Twitter accounts). The sway of instant news from the Big 12, for readers and those involved, provided a college football rush equivalent to that of surfing a popsicle to safety in a tsunami. For once, outsiders had the chance to get in on the boardroom dance as the previously staid Pac-10 marshaled it's forces and dove in for the kill. It was mostly due to free access to internet sites smartly provided by Chip Brown and those at Texas, that a larger game than ever provided on the field, became more obvious to everyone.

What were the details of the new game? For starters, college basketball largely didn't matter and Kansas was (pun totally intended) "dust in the wind." Baylor was, and had always been, an afterthought. And there was a general consensus that if the Pac-10 succeeded, many schools would be left without a conference, and moreover (gasp!) a BCS golden ticket.

In short, "survival of the fittest" was becoming a way of dealing with increasing deficits in college football. Naturally, the weakest members of the herd turned towards Austin for guidance. They half expected Texas to kill them as well.

And then Texas declined - which was a quizzical move to those outside of Austin. Not so shockingly, a television press conference was issued not from the offices of the Big 12 in Dallas, but from Austin itself. Money was instantly provided. The BCS could continue. The Big 12 would perish no more.

However, the weaker schools had been forced into handing Texas, Texas A&M, and Oklahoma their lunch money for survival. And they agreed to revenue-sharing that would greatly decrease their chances to compete. If there had been an age of innocence in the Big 12, it had been in 1994, when the conference agreed to work together toward a greater good. But even Tom Osborne, Nebraska legend and athletic director, knew such a goal couldn't reach fruition in a Dallas-dominated midwest, and sixteen years later, he took his team and left. So did Colorado.

Thus, an exodus of members became the dilemma of Texas in the age of disillusionment. If the conference fell, it would surely be "Katy bar the door" for everyone. And when Dodds talked with Powers about positioning their school for the new era of superconferences, which had been pointed to, hinted at, talked about and everything but agreed to, he undoubtedly talked dollars. Because that's what works now. Success can be had for indefinite amounts of time, but when it's not, there's always a greener pasture. And in the game of Texas hold'em, stay or go, that pasture could always be had.

Mountain Highs and Lows

It is widely considered a travesty that the world of college football is demographically myopic. Only two conferences really matter to most pollsters - the Big 12 and the SEC. Out of these two leagues, only five teams are typically considered BCS worthy on a year-to-year basis: Florida, Alabama, LSU, Texas and Oklahoma. And only Alabama has not won a BCS trophy in the modern college football era (starting in 1998, from then on). With a Tide-rolling win this Saturday night, that trend could be reversed. Why? Because anyone watching last weekend's game in College Station knows the truth: Texas has too many flaws to win the national title.

But there's another team in Texas. It's purple, shoots blood from its eyes, and has the coolest name ever invented in the sporting culture - the TCU Horned Frogs. The Horned Frogs, like Texas, are undergoing a remarkable season - an undefeated season - and should Nebraska pull the upset over the favored Longhorns, there is little debate on the whether TCU will go to the national title. In short, it will.

But playing Devil's advocate is a fun game, and although many in the media speculate that it should, playing to the sympathies of many a rural spectator, I tend to think otherwise. There is an overlying notion that the Mountain West isn't far from the Big East in terms of overall strength. People single out the Big East conference due to it's relative obscurity in the college football world - it's more of a basketball conference and only has eight teams. But what is mostly forgotten about the Big East is that it too has a high success rate in bowl games, which is the best way to determine a conference's overall strength. The Mountain West, on the other hand, seems top-heavy.

Take three years ago. West Virginia dusts off Oklahoma by 20 on the road (virtually a home game for the Sooners). A year before that, it cruises past Georgia, the SEC champion, in Atlanta. Those were solid wins. Contrast that with Utah beating Alabama (in Baton Rouge) and Utah beating Pitt (in Tempe), the leagues are fairly comparable.

But taking a look at the lower halves of the conferences shows the following:

The Big East went 4-2 in 2008. It went 5-0 in 2007 and won the Bowl Challenge Cup. Over the last six years, along with the SEC, it has managed to provide more different winners in BCS games than any other conference (3 different schools per conference). There's depth to be had in the Big East. Every year, the league is up for grabs. That's a good trait to have.

The Mountain West, conversely, does have a good bowl record, but it screams Utah in its signature bowl victories. Utah has won twice, and very convincingly, but nothing suggests that BYU, TCU or other teams have kept up their ends of the bargain in big games. Those teams win smaller games in San Diego or Las Vegas, and do it against reeling programs (Oregon in '06, UCLA in '07). In short, the results stand for themselves - Utah, as a school, should join the Pac-Ten conference. It's academic enough, just as talented, and it's orbiting the rest of its league.

And if Cincinnati wins at Pitt (which is not a given), they're the team that is statistically more deserving of the game. Although the pollsters might not see it that way, Oregon State and four ranked bowl-playing teams (Pitt, WVU, South Florida, Rutgers) from its own conference is a sturdier slate than Clemson, Utah, BYU and Virginia.

This all of course, could be a moot point if TCU wins its bowl game, championship or not. And given the way the Horned Frogs have played, that's a good possibility. But before the BCS caves in to the demands of the MWC conference commissioner / "district attorney" Craig Thompson, and his justified albeit irrational demands for a playoff and BCS equality, let's watch to see how New Mexico does, how San Diego State does, how Wyoming does year in, year out.

The point is, TCU is probably a good team, and that helps the Mountain West. But does the league deserve to have a BCS bid? No. The depth of the league is fodder for preseason wins elsewhere in stronger conferences. What should be examined is the validity of adding a TCU or a Utah to the Pac-Ten. Should the conference expand - which it should, undoubtedly - these schools are the best of the rest (and in other sports, not just football). Utah obviously makes geographical sense, and a Texas footprint for the conference would be enormous. Whether the staid, laid-back Pac-Ten office does this is anyones guess, but after watching college football take a year off from all the drama and have things play out the way most thought they would - the Big East, the weakest link in the system, is still a step above the Mountain West and the Pac Ten clearly should reevaluate where it stands in regards to expansion. This is what the landscape is telling us.