College football’s evolution

I admit, sometimes I get a bit nostalgic for the way college football was – or at least the way I thought it was when I was a kid.

I grew during the era when there usually was just one televised game per Saturday, so that was the game you watched. If it happened to be a matchup that featured the team you cheered for, well, that made a big deal that much bigger.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

It was a time when there were only a handful of bowl games and national champions were determined by a vote of coaches and sports writers.

By today’s standards, it was downright primitive. But when it was all you knew, it all seemed pretty good.

Now here we are in 2025, with Notre Dame and Ohio State the last teams standing in major college football following a 12-team tournament. They’ll meet on January 20 in the College Football Playoff National Championship Game, an event that culminates the first year of a “real” playoff.

(I realize something called the CFP Playoff has been around since 2014, but up until the 2024 season it included only four schools. As I’ve said many times, when a national championship is settled among four out of 134 teams, that’s not a playoff, merely an invitational).

Yet – speaking as a fan – the game gives off a completely different vibe now. The teams represent colleges, but what they’re playing doesn’t seem like NCAA football anymore.

Big-time college football has become so … transient. Players are looking to make the most of their opportunities, and nowadays that means jumping from one team to another thanks to the transfer portal and the possibility of a financial windfall.

Vanderbilt quarterback Diego Pavia suited up for New Mexico Military Institute and New Mexico before making his way to Nashville and the SEC.

Alan Bowman calls signals for Oklahoma State. Previously, he was on the rosters of both Texas Tech and Michigan.

And before moving on to the coaching ranks in 2024, J.T. Daniels played QB for Southern Cal, Georgia, West Virginia and Rice. The list goes on and on.

The Athletic reports that by the time the winter transfer portal had closed last month, more than 3,000 Football Bowl Subdivision players had entered it. That’s a whole lot of shuffling.

Playing time is the primary reason, of course, with the subtext being that more snaps increase NIL opportunities. Now that athletes can make money off their name, image and likeness, it’s even more important to join a program where you can elevate the profile of your name, image and likeness.

At this point you probably expect me to play the old man card and start pining for the “good ol’ days.”

I’m not gonna do that.

If a player can ink a big money sponsorship deal with Aunt Gertrude’s Old-Fashioned Carbuncle Salve, more power to him. And I’m glad revenue sharing will come into play starting with the 2025-26 season.

With head coaches making as much as $10 million per season, it’s criminal for athletes not to benefit financially. They’re the ones putting their bodies on the line and bringing fans to the stadium (and eyes to the TV).

That said, the evolution of college football has taken away much of its charm. While my decades-long fandom came with a heavy dose of naivety, I liked the fact that Saturdays were reserved for “amateur” kids playing for school pride. Sundays, meanwhile, were all about grown men playing for a paycheck.

The lines between college football and the NFL were clearly drawn, and I appreciated the distinction.

And while there’s still a huge gulf between the Power Four and the 32 franchises that play with the ball bearing Roger Goodell’s autograph, the relationship is increasingly symbiotic.

Today’s elite college players are often ready to move to the NFL and make an impact by the end of their junior years. And choosing a school is less about growing up cheering for that school and more about which institution provides the clearest path to the NFL – and the biggest payday.

Again, all of this makes perfect sense and I’m completely in the players’ corner. College football is big business, even if we like to pretend otherwise, and these guys have every right to make the best business decisions for themselves.

However, these major changes mean the game has morphed into more of a pro-type league – one with unlimited free agency and major financial disparity, depending on the team and conference. Many institutions have “collectives,” which raise money from donors to provide NIL compensation. The playing field is tilted, and the have-nots are falling even further behind the haves.

In cbssports.com’s report on the Buckeyes’ 28-14 victory over Texas in Friday’s Cotton Bowl semi-final, one line read, “Ohio State’s $20 million roster, one of the most expensive in college football, was on display throughout a gutsy win over the Longhorns.” 

With that kind of cash floating around, I imagine there’ll come a time – likely soon – when the top 40 or 50 programs break away and form their own “Super League.”

It’ll be at the top of the collegiate pyramid, moving far ahead of the FBS, Football Championship Subdivision and Division II. Calling it “NFL Lite” won’t be too far off the mark.

What college football “was” to me is now merely a fond memory. The days when a scholarship was the dangling carrot to lure a student-athlete are long gone.

What college football “is,” well, it’s a natural progression, and that progression comes with a hefty price tag.

We might not like it from our outside-looking-in vantage point, but we have no choice but to acknowledge it.

Being an ACE driver

High school was a long time ago for me, so many of the things that happened during those four years have faded from memory.

I still recall scoring my first goal in a soccer match (left-footed, no less … meaning it was an accident), losing my one and only after school fight (pugilism was never my strong suit, nor was being particularly strong), and renting a gray tuxedo for my senior prom (I guess I wanted to look like David Byrne from Talking Heads. Psycho Killer was a song that reallyspoke to me).

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

What stands out more than anything, though, was learning to be an ACE driver.

Yep, as part of my school’s drivers education program, we had to watch an old 1960s-era film about safe driving. The spokesperson, if I remember correctly, was Junior Miss Teen America USA Ingénue (or something along those lines), and she urged me to be an ACE driver – alert, courteous and educated.

And you know what?

Junior Miss Teen America USA Ingénue (or something along those lines) had a huge impact on my life, because I never forgot that acronym and the lessons that it taught. It has been my mantra ever since I got behind the wheel of my dad’s 1972 Gran Torino and thought, “Man, I hope Clint Eastwood makes a movie about this car in 2008.”

Alert? Darn tootin I’m alert … I’m “six cups of Italian Roast coffee and half a box of Vivarin plus I think I just saw a snake” alert when I’m driving.

I’m constantly watching for kids playing in the street, animals walking in the street, naked old people wandering onto the street, and super-smart monkeys who’ve escaped from a lab and join the kids, animals and naked old people on the street in an effort to give rise to a planet of the apes.

Courteous?

That’s me, baby. To a fault.

If I see you creeping up to a four-way stop, I’ll creep even slower because I’m a giver and I want you to be first and go first. And if we get to our stop sign destinations at the same time, I’ll wave you through.

And if you’re courteous, you might, in turn, try to wave me through.

But then I’ll frantically wave you through again and in an effort to avoid conflict and further eye contact, shift into reverse and start driving backwards, hoping there are no kids, critters, nude oldsters and talking apes back there.

Educated?

Absolutely. I even made the dean’s list a couple of times in college (although, admittedly, I don’t know what the list was for and how he planned to use it).

Of course, being an ACE driver means being educated in the ways of the Department of Motor Vehicles. To that end, here’s  a sample question on a DMV Written Driving Test:

Using a cell phone while operating a motor vehicle is considered a distraction because: (A) It causes the driver to be concerned about the cost of the call; (B) It occupies the driver’s hands, eyes, and mind; or (C) It is an activity that draws the attention of other drivers.

The correct answer (spoiler alert) is B. When watching a video of funny cats on your phone, you should always pull over because your hands, eyes, and mind should be on cats and only cats. They’re a hoot.

Being an ACE driver has served me well during my 48 years of operating a motor vehicle. During that time I have gotten only two speeding tickets (both in South Carolina, where the po-pos didn’t approve of me going 77 in a 70-mile zone), and one citation for an expired tag (I just plain forgot one year).

And how, you ask, have I been able to keep such a (relatively) clean record?

All because of that cheesy film I watched during my sophomore year in high school.

So, I’d like to publicly thank Junior Miss Teen America USA Ingénue (or something along those lines) for the words of wisdom she shared – wisdom I’ve carried with me spanning five decades now.

Later today when I head to the grocery store to replenish my supply of fruits and vegetables, I’ll be alert (looking both ways to make sure smart monkeys aren’t in my path); courteous (if we’re both headed for the parking spot right next to the store entrance, I’ll let you have it unless I’m in a hurry and/or don’t like your looks); and educated (I’ll keep my college diploma in the passenger’s seat and show it to you upon request).

Happy motoring, fellow ACE drivers. I look forward to seeing you at the next four-way stop.

Lincoln’s epic day

When you think of the greatest players in Los Angeles/San Diego Chargers history, names like LaDainian Tomlinson, Junior Seau and Dan Fouts quickly come to mind.

But the greatest individual performance by a Bolt? That came on January 5, 1964, courtesy of fullback Keith Lincoln. And the stakes couldn’t have been higher.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

Sixty-one years ago, the American Football League – after just four seasons – had established itself as a major threat to the NFL. The last clubs standing in the 1963 campaign were the Chargers (11-3) and Boston Patriots (8-6-1), who met at San Diego’s Balboa Stadium in the AFL Championship Game.

The Chargers had the league’s best record while Boston had to defeat the Buffalo Bills (also 8-6-1) in an Eastern Conference playoff game to earn the right to play for the crown.

It was never a contest as San Diego rolled to a 51-10 victory.

Obviously, a rout of that magnitude suggests the Chargers had superlative play across the board, and that was certainly true.

The winners outgained the Pats 610 yards to 261, and a smothering defense recorded several sacks totaling negative 42 yards and forced a pair of turnovers. Jumping out to a 14-0 lead, it was 31-10 at the half and San Diego scored all 20 second half points.

Winning QB Tobin Rote capped off a league Most Valuable Player season with a terrific championship game performance, throwing for 173 yards and two TDs and rushing for another score.

On defense, Paul Maguire and Bob Mitinger each had interceptions.

However, Lincoln closed the day with 206 ground yards and two touchdowns on 13 carries; reeled in seven receptions for 123 yards; and completed a 24-yard pass on an option play. He was voted title game MVP, picking up 38 of 39 votes.

Days before the clash Boston coach Mike Holovak inadvertently predicted the future when asked how to stop Chargers halfback Paul Lowe.

“We don’t expect Lowe to gain 200 yards, but we’re not going to key on him,” Holovak told the Associated Press. “Key on Lowe, and Lincoln will kill you.”

The Patriots boss was right, although Lincoln said after the game he felt out of sorts in the first quarter.

“I didn’t feel real good there early in the game,” Lincoln said. “My legs sort of went out after I made those first couple of runs. The heat got me. I just didn’t seem to have life in my legs. I felt I might have trouble running the 100 as fast as (Chargers 320-pound lineman) Ernie Ladd.

“This is the greatest game I ever played, but running 50 yards seemed like running a mile.”

Lincoln’s first four carries went for 56, 67, 11 and 44 yards – an astonishing 44.5 yards per carry average.

“Our offensive line was just too much,” the 6-1, 215-pounder said. “Our line just tore them open. Not often do you see any of Boston’s linebackers getting knocked down, but today they were.”

He got no argument from Patriot defensive end Bob Dee.

“Lincoln is the best back in the league, bar none,” Dee said. “One time about five of us hit him and we couldn’t bring him down.”

And Chargers coach Sid Gillman had high praise for his star freight-toter as well.

“Lincoln is the best all-around back we have on the squad,” Gillman said.

No question, Lincoln’s exploits in the AFL Championship Game were epic, but he was hardly a one-hit wonder.

In an eight-year AFL career – seven spent with the Chargers – he rushed for 3,383 rushing yards and scored 19 touchdowns on the ground while tallying 19 more TDs on 2,250 receiving yards (165 catches).

He was a five-time AFL All-Star and two-time First Team All-AFL selection.

In the AFL Championship Game the following season, Lincoln was immortalized again as the recipient of “The Hit Heard ‘Round The World.” He was crumpled by Buffalo linebacker Mike Stratton on a vicious collision that broke one of Lincoln’s ribs and knocked him out of the game midway through the first quarter.

The Bills dethroned the defending champs with a 20-7 victory.

Lincoln, who was voted into the Chargers Hall of Fame in 1980, starred at Washington State before playing pro ball and was nicknamed the “Moose of the Palouse.” A member of the Cougars’ Hall of Fame – setting a school career rushing record (1,501 yards), a single season punting average record (43.4 in 1959), and a career punting average record (40.3) – Lincoln passed away in 2019.

Still, his legend and legacy live on.