Bowl games: You can love ’em, hate ’em or ignore ’em

And now, at last, things get serious.

Out of Left Field is written by Scott Adamson. It appears weekly and sometimes more frequently if he gets up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

New Year’s Day has arrived, which means college football fans get to find out which two teams will play for the national championship next week in Atlanta.

But before No. 2 Oklahoma faces No. 3 Georgia in the Rose Bowl at 5 p.m. and No. 1 Clemson tangles with No. 4 Alabama in the Sugar Bowl around 9ish, there are three other bowl games to start your day.

Michigan and South Carolina kick things off in the Outback Bowl at noon; Auburn and Central Florida play 30 minutes later in the Peach Bowl; and the last game of the College Football Playoff undercard is Notre Dame vs. LSU in the Citrus Bowl at 1 p.m.

So, do I plan to park my carcass on the futon and watch football for 13 consecutive hours today?

Nope.

I’m a New York Rangers fan, and they play Buffalo in the NHL Winter Classic today at 1 p.m. I’ll be cheering on the Blueshirts for three hours before joining the ESPN crew in Pasadena because hockey is glorious and outdoor hockey is gloriouser.*

* Not a real word but I’m using it anyway.

Yet if you think – after that admission – that I’m here to bash the bowls, the number of bowls, or the bowl system itself, I’m really not.

Counting the College Football Playoff National Championship, which is set for Jan. 8 at Mercedez-Benz Stadium, there are a staggering 40 bowls involving Football Bowl Subdivision teams.

And every year, there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth from traditionalists who think there are too many of them.

A bunch of my friends have spent the last few days debating how bowl games have evolved, and it’s been interesting to hear the wildly varying viewpoints.

As for me, I get the nostalgia for years of NCAA football past. I grew up when college football was still a game – at least as far as we knew.

It was fun back in the day to watch Woody Hayes make an ass of himself when Ohio State played a John McKay-coached Southern Cal squad in the Rose Bowl. Seeing Paul Bryant lead Alabama into action in the Sugar Bowl and Bob Devaney (and then Tom Osborne) guide the fortunes of Nebraska in the Orange Bowl was also cool, and once in a while you might even accidentally get a game that would determine the mythical national championship.

There weren’t nearly as many bowls, so most of them seemed “special” – even though bowls such as the Gator and Liberty never were.

But those days are over and they ain’t coming back.

That being the case, these days I watch a few, miss a bunch, and sometimes I merely stumble upon a game that piques my interest.

Up until last Friday’s Belk Bowl (a wild 55-52 Wake Forest win over Texas A&M that was loads of fun), the only bowl game I had seen was the Bahamas Bowl – and I only watched three quarters of that.

Had my alma mater, UAB, not been playing I wouldn’t even have known or cared it was taking place.

But I’m sure Ohio fans enjoyed their team’s 41-6 beatdown of the Blazers, and regardless of the outcome the teams (and those who traveled to the game) got a trip to the Bahamas.

That doesn’t suck.

But much less exotic locales (I’m looking at you, Shreveport) still hold games involving schools that have fans, and fans of those schools shouldn’t be shamed for watching their team play an extra game during the holidays.

Look, I’ve already made pretty clear I’m more interested in expanded playoffs than bowls.

There are 10 FBS conferences so it seems that a 16-team playoff with 10 conference champions and six wildcard teams would be damn near perfect.

I’d even put an existing bowl in play as the site of the title tilt, joining the pair of semifinal bowls used in the current 4-team format.

Still, even with playoffs there will likely always still be bowls, and that’s absolutely fine.

Is it ridiculous for 6-6 teams (and sometimes 5-7 teams) to earn bowl bids?

Not if the team you pull for is 6-6 or 5-7. And if your favorite sons get invited to the Carl’s Catheters Yellow Snow Bowl in Anchorage, Alaska, you should watch with no apologies.

Hell, I wouldn’t even mind a postseason matchup featuring two 0-12 teams. You could call it the Redemption Bowl and the winner would end the season on a positive note.

Of course that means the losers would be subject to great ridicule, which would not be a positive part of the college experience.

It might be hard to get that particular bowl certified.

At any rate, I spent my last 10 years in the newspaper business covering Georgia and Clemson, so I have a particular interest in their games tonight. But even if I hadn’t, these are still the CFP semifinals, and I want to see what happens in both of them.

And next Monday, I’ll be glued to screen as the last two teams standing go toe-to-toe in Atlanta.

The bottom line is there are those who are going to watch as many bowls as possible, some who will ignore them all and some – like me – who pick and choose.

So, just enjoy the games.

Or don’t.

If you come knocking, I probably won’t answer the door

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.

Brain Farce is an alleged humor column written by Scott Adamson. It comes out basically whenever he feels like writing it. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

Unless you’re a neighbor who I know, Batman, or someone dressed as Batman, I will not answer the door if you come knocking.

You can pound and bang and scream and cry, but it’s no use.

By the time you get to the third knock, I’ll either be safely locked away in my Panic Room or so well hidden you’ll think no one is home.

Whatever it is you need, I can’t help you with.

Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.

And you have the 1999 Tostitos Fiesta Bowl BCS National Championship Game to thank for it.

Before that game, in which Tennessee beat Florida State 23-16 to claim the championship of the 1998 season, I would usually go to the door if there was a knock and never give it a second thought.

Sometimes it was a Girl Scout hawking cookies, or occasionally someone trying to get me to buy aluminum siding. Regardless, the interactions were usually pleasant and brief.

This night was different.

I had the house to myself (except for my miniature dachshund, Otis) and all the supplies I needed to get through the game – a case of Coors Light, a pack of Ruffles potato chips, one can of Easy Cheese American, one can of Planters dry roasted peanuts, and the number of the regional medical center so I could punch it in as I was having my heart attack.

I had just positioned myself on the couch (about 10 minutes before kickoff) when there was a knock on the door.

When I opened it, there were three smiling gentlemen gathered on my porch.

“Good evening! How are you tonight?” one of them asked.

“I’m good. And you?” one of me answered (and asked).

“Outstanding. We’re with Big Box Church and we were hoping we could come in and talk to you for a bit.”

This, of course, was not going to happen. I was about to get my drink on and watch football, but even if I was only planning to sit back and enjoy an episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” I was not in the mood for a sermon.

“I’m not interested, but thanks,” I said. “The Fiesta Bowl is about to kick-off and I’m gonna watch that tonight.”

Another member of the front porch-squatters smiled broadly.

“Wow,” the broadly smiling one said. “We enjoy football, too.”

Then things got awkward.

“Well,” I said. “If you leave now you can get home in time to watch it.”

Not the most subtle hint, but at this point I was agitated.

“Well, we can talk while we watch,” the broadly smiling one said.

Then – and I kid you not – the dude actually put a foot over the threshold and tried to come into my house.

“Whoa,” I said, blocking is path. “You need to leave.”

At that point I gave the guy a Heisman straight-arm to push him back and slammed the door.

I mean, there’s pushy, and there’s get your face punched pushy.

And from that day forward, I have never answered the door without first checking who it was and making sure they fell into the “approved” category.

Fortunately now we have a front yard which is covered in pea gravel, so the minute someone steps onto our property, there is the sound of shoes-on-pebble.

Charlie, our Sheltie, is the first to hear it and he immediately heads to the back porch.

The two cats retire to the drawers underneath the futon.

Mary retreats to the bedroom, and I drop to the floor and serpentine to the stairs leading up the Panic Room, which is an attic room redesigned as a place to hide from those promoting commerce or religion.

There are some disadvantages, of course. Namely, I haven’t had a Girl Scout cookie in years.

Otherwise, though, it works out quite well.

Even though I no longer drink alcohol or eat Easy Cheese, I can still watch a ballgame in peace, knowing that if someone comes knocking they will be completely ignored.

Unless, as I said, I look out the peephole and see that it’s Batman.

The door is always open for the Dark Knight.

This season, the Iron Bowl doesn’t trump all

The University of Alabama football team has won 10 national championships (as recognized by the Associated Press).

Out of Left Field is written by Scott Adamson. It appears weekly and sometimes more frequently if he gets up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

Auburn has been awarded two.

And what is the common denominator of all 12 of those crowns?

The team that wore them were also kings of the Iron Bowl.

And that makes complete sense.

Since that game is the traditional regular-season capper for both programs (at least since the series was renewed in 1948), it’s hard to imagine how an Iron Bowl loser can go on to seize the biggest prize in all of college football.

But there’s a chance fans won’t have to imagine it this season because it could actually happen.

Yep, the team that lost the Iron Bowl by two touchdowns is two wins away from a national championship.

On the other hand, the team that earned 365 days’ worth of braggin’ rights in what some consider the nation’s fiercest rivalry received a consolation prize in the form of a Peach Bowl invitation.

In the words of my late Uncle Emery, “That don’t hardly seem right.”

Alabama, of course, was a bit of a controversial College Football Playoff selection, sneaking past Ohio State for the fourth and final spot in the Football Bowl Subdivision’s little tournament.

Bama was 11-1 and runner-up in the SEC West, while the 11-2 Buckeyes were Big Ten champions but suffered a 31-point loss to Iowa earlier in the season. So regardless of who made the cut, there was going to be plenty of pissed-off fans.

This time, many of them live in the greater Columbus, Ohio, area.

Auburn played Georgia in the SEC Championship Game and – if the Tigers had won – they would’ve also been in the “Final Four.”

Conceivably, they could have met the Tide again for the national championship. That would’ve been, by far, the most significant sporting event in the state of Alabama’s history.

Instead, AU – which beat UGA in the regular season – lost the rematch by 21 points. And with three losses, Gus Malzahn’s charges must settle for a New Year’s 6 bowl.

So what’s the big deal about a one-loss Alabama team?

Ordinarily, there would be no big deal. Every team in the CFP has a loss.

No. 1 Clemson was defeated by Syracuse and No. 2 Oklahoma fell to Iowa State.

Those are seen as hiccups.

No. 3 Georgia, of course, was throttled by Auburn before beating the Tigers in the game that mattered most. So the first leg of “The Deep South’s Oldest Rivalry” carries no weight.

And if the Tide’s lone blemish had come against LSU or Mississippi State or any college football team not located in Lee County, Alabama, it wouldn’t even be a story line among diehards or talking heads.

But Alabama lost to Auburn. And if you believe many fans, that game trumps all.

I’ll let you in on a secret, though … this year, it really doesn’t.

And just moments after Auburn put the finishing touches on a 26-14 win over then No. 1 Alabama, Tide boss Nick Saban was already politicking for a playoff spot.

“I think this team deserves the opportunity to get into the playoff by what they have been able to accomplish and what they have been able to do,” Saban said. “Certainly not in this game, but I think the team we played tonight is a very good football team, probably one of the best teams in the country. I don’t think one game defines who you are. It certainly doesn’t define this team for who they are, and again I am very proud of what they were able to accomplish.”

Even Malzahn was ready to move on shortly after the final whistle blew.

Yeah, his team won the Iron Bowl, but that was hardly the biggest game of the year for him or his players.

“This time of year, very few teams are playing their best football and we’re doing that,” Malzahn said. “We must continue doing that moving forward. Playing Georgia, we know they’re going to have a chip on their shoulder.”

I’m not saying Tide players weren’t hurting when they got on the bus to leave Jordan-Hare Stadium. They were.

And the locker room was a joyous place for the hosts, who snapped a three-game losing skid against the squad from Tuscaloosa.

Yet while Alabama fans might be dealing with some existential angst in the postseason, the only Tigers its players will be concerned with are the defending national champions from Clemson.

And if you don’t think Auburn’s athletes would trade an Iron Bowl win for a CFP berth, you’re kidding yourself.

Granted, this is a moot point if Clemson beats Alabama in the Sugar Bowl semifinal on New Year’s Day. (For the record, I think the Tigers will win the rubber game of their three-game match with Bama and face Georgia in the College Football Playoff National Championship on Jan. 8).

But if the Crimson Tide advances and goes on to win its 11th national championship, I do have a suggestion for those of you who bleed Blue and Orange.

Make up bumper stickers that read, “Auburn 26, National Champions 14.”