CoFL making a bold move

When a new football league comes along, it has to accomplish one major task to pique my interest – shake up the rulebook.

Mike Kelly, commissioner of the new Continental Football League, has done more than that. He put the rulebook in a blender and flipped the switch to “high.”

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

When the reimagined CoFL takes the field next summer, games will feature the “Continental Shift” starting with the fourth quarter of every contest. At that point, the American football rules that have been used for the first three quarters will be abandoned. In their place will be Canadian Football League-style action: three downs to make 10 yards, all backs allowed in motion toward the line of scrimmage, defenses lining up a yard off the ball, no fair catches, and even the single point rouge.

It took me a couple of minutes, but my reaction to this fantastic tweak went from “Eh, this might too much” to “No, this is absolutely brilliant.” I mean, if you’re gonna be bold, be very bold. (And admittedly, it doesn’t hurt that I’m a huge CFL fan).

“The Continental Shift will give the fans a new perspective if they have not already experienced the CFL style of play, and it doesn’t allow a team in the lead to run out the clock, so there is always a chance for a wild outcome,” Kelly said. “The shift also gives CFL scouts an opportunity to evaluate the skill sets that suit their style of play, and we’ve been in preliminary discussion with organizations in Canada that have interest in joining our league.

“As for other changes, we’re currently discussing altering the severity of particular penalties and adjusting the distance imposed.”

Kelly has coaching experience at the college, CFL and original XFL level, and was head coach of the CFL Winnipeg Blue Bombers in 2009. His administrative work came in the NFL and CFL, and now he wants to apply his across-the-board knowledge to a new organization that plans to begin play with eight clubs in June, 2026.

But I had to ask … why revive the Continental League brand?

“My first inclination was nostalgia,” he explained. “My father took me to games in my hometown in Connecticut to see the Waterbury Orbits in the mid-1960s, and it made a lasting impression on me. This was my team, in my town, and these were local heroes that I could actually see firsthand.

Secondly, there is void that needs to be filled. Forty-three percent of all student-athletes entering the NCAA transfer portal do not find a new home. Now what? 

“This is their opportunity to continue to play and to be seen by scouts in the National Football League and the Canadian Football League, and we’re currently investigating if they can return to the NCAA because of  our structure. Now, we’re giving them a chance to fulfill their goals and aspirations.”

While minor league football has often been viewed as a last chance platform for athletes, the CoFL aims to be more of a first look showcase. It isn’t shying away from the “developmental” label at all.

 “We will go to camp with 50 players, 25 of whom will be mandated to be between the ages of 18 and 25,” Kelly said. “This is not ‘mercenary’ football with older players holding on to false hope. This is an opportunity league. Think AA minor league baseball … an opportunity to grow and mature and provide an answer to, ‘Where can I get a chance?’”

As of now the league has identified three of its franchises – the Ohio Valley Ironmen, San Antonio Toros and Texas Syndicate.

Ohio Valley, based in Wheeling, West Virginia, is not only a callback to the original CoFL, but trading up from the dumpster fire that is (was?) the International Football Alliance, where it began play in 2025.

The Toros name also has roots in the CoFL as well as the Texas Football League, Trans-American Football League, Southwestern Football League and Mid-American Football League.

The Syndicate will be based in Austin.

“We’ll start with four teams in each division, North and South,” Kelly said. “The idea is regional travel keeping overhead low and creating rivalries. We would like the locations to be no more than an eight hour bus ride between cities. A home and away will be played within the division with No. 1 playing No. 2 in a division final, and then the division winners playing for the league title. That will be the only real travel cost incurred. 

“As we grow, and the interest we’re receiving from all over the country tells us we’ve struck a chord, we’ll look to build divisions under the aforementioned premise.”

As for the rest of the 2026 club lineup, Kelly is steering clear of major markets.

“We want to go into underserved communities,” he said. “Small to mid-sized cities that have a municipal stadium that’s not producing the type of revenue it could or should be. We want to play in smaller venues of 5,000 to maybe 12,000 seats, so the fans feel a real connection to the players and their team … provide that grassroots, hometown feel where a family can go and enjoy a night out and see professional football.”

In recent years start-ups have eyed the spring, but Kelly thinks a short June-July slate will be a perfect lead-in to the “traditional” football season.

“Going to minor league baseball games in the summer is so much fun, but football is a game like no other and we are playing at a time when the summer is really starting and that excitement of relaxed warm nights and taking the family out is appealing,” Kelly said. “Our timeframe also serves a purpose. We’ll conclude the season by the third week of July. That provides the players, those that have attracted attention by the NFL or CFL, to have time to enter an NFL camp. And there is a roster shift in the CFL that happens around Labor Day that also easily gives our players a chance to sign on to some form of a roster spot. The fans also have the opportunity to buy into the franchise as minority owners. 

“Now they are truly looking at ‘their team.’ Local advisory boards will also be implemented so that the franchise can address the concerns of the fans and minority owners to make the gameday experience what they desire.”

Kelly adds that teams will be stocked with players familiar to the fans.

“Each team will have territorial rights to players, so now when you go to a game, you’ll recognize names from local universities and high schools and truly embracing hometown heroes. We’ll be part of the fabric of your town.”

And being the fabric of a town means teams will be based in the cities they represent; there will be no central hub.

“Our players will be housed in each community,” Kelly stresses. “It’s mandated that the franchises incorporate the players into the community. Fan appreciation events, charitable endeavors … we want these players invested into the town. We will assist and encourage players to network and find employment in the community to build their work/professional resume reflective of their degree attained so that when their playing career has come to a conclusion, they have strengthened their resumes.

“That makes for a smooth transition into the workforce and hopefully some will remain in the community, someday bringing their own kids to see where daddy once played.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah … I realize the sports graveyard is full of leagues that looked good on the drawing board but either never got off the ground or crashed almost immediately. Odds of success are long.

But counting the USFL/XFL combo that is now the United Football League – a venture heading into a fifth season in 2026 – survival is possible.

And Kelly’s gameplan is intriguing enough to make me anxious to see it become reality.

So, here’s hoping when next June rolls around, I’ll have identified a Continental Football League side to cheer for. Regardless, it’s a safe bet that my biggest cheer will be reserved for the Continental Shift.

For more information about the CoFL, go to coflfootball.com

The Devil you know

The offices of Hell hadn’t changed much over the millennia. Oh, there was occasionally a new coat of dark red paint on the walls in the reception area, and the black light that illuminated the room would have to be replaced from time to time when it burned out from the thick humidity.

But it was always smoky and stuffy, always smelled of sulfur, and Jack O’Lantern had dropped in more times than he could remember.

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

Sometimes known as “Stingy Jack,” O’Lantern was a legend – a legend who was such an odious character that Heaven wouldn’t take him and Hell didn’t want him. His relationship with the Devil was complicated by the fact that had screwed over the Prince of Darkness more than once. His betrayal prompted Beelzebub to condemn him to roam the earth between the planes of good and evil, meaning there was no spot for him above or below.

Still, every decade or so, Jack would travel to Hell’s corporate headquarters in hopes of finding work and, ultimately, admission to Hades.

“May I help you?” asked the receptionist standing behind the window (her name tag read “Marcy”).

“Yes, I’m here to see the Devil.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m just a walk-in. He’s quite familiar with me, though.”

Marcy produced a clipboard with a sheet of paper and ball point pen attached to a chain.

“Please sign on the first blank line,” she said. “And list the time.”

Jack scribbled down his name and handed the clipboard back.

Marcy looked it over and smiled.

“Oh, wow … Jack O’Lantern,” she said excitedly. “So, you’re the guy that invented the Halloween pumpkin?”

Jack shrugged.

“Well, yes and no,” he explained. “The Devil and I have this convoluted contract where he can’t claim my soul, so he gave me an ember to guide me through the unknown. At first, I put it in a hollowed-out turnip and used it to see in front of me, but then I realized no one took me seriously. People would say things like, ‘Look … there’s that wanker with the candle in the turnip … let’s pelt him with jagged rocks,’ so then I put the ember in a pumpkin. At first, there was just a small round hole in it to let the light shine through, but then one night I got bored and decided to carve out a face, just for the hell of it. I called it a Jack O’Lantern Glowing Pumpkin and tried to patent the name, but there was so much red tape involved I finally gave up. I guess it’s public domain now.”

“That’s a shame,” Marcy said. “Anyway, what brings you in to see the boss today?”

Jack placed his pumpkin on the floor and leaned on the shelf in front of the window.

“Look, he and I have had our differences,” Jack explained. “Without going into all the details, I’m a bit of a dick and tricked the dude twice. Once I turned him into a silver coin, and another time I trapped him in an apple tree. Needless to say, he was not amused. You can learn more about it on Wickedpedia. But here’s the thing … I’ve well and truly learned my lesson. I’ve been wandering aimlessly since the 17th century, and there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t regret what I did to Ol’ Scratch.

“Could you just buzz him and tell him I came here to apologize – and to find some work? I’m getting pretty desperate and I’m willing to do just about anything. I’d be happy to spread disease, start forest fires, create a new reality show … whatever he needs. And I realize I have to prove myself, but I just need a chance. He’s evil, I’m evil – we should do evil together.”

Marcy winked.

“Lemme go check with him and tell him what you said. A disco-themed cruise liner caught fire and sank early this morning, and that put him in a really good mood.”

So Jack waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity for a man doomed for eternity, Marcy emerged from the Devil’s office.

“I think he may have something for you, Mr. O’Lantern,” she said excitedly. “Boss said he needs you in Washington, D.C., where you’ll be working with Texas Senator Ted Cruz.”

Tears welled up in Jack’s eyes and as he knelt down, he sobbed gently – cradling his glowing pumpkin.

At long last, he had finally made it to Hell.

The ABA’s last hurrah

On October 22, 1975, I was bummed out by news that the World Football League had folded. Two days later, however, the American Basketball Association was starting its ninth season, and under normal circumstances that would’ve lifted my spirits.

I loved the ABA; it was my favorite professional roundball organization then and if I could conjure it into existence now, I would. But October 24, 1975, was the beginning of the end, and its demise was quite obvious before the nine teams ever tipped off.

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

In September of that year, the New York Nets (my favorite club) and Denver Nuggets had already applied for admission to the National Basketball Association. Four days before the 1975-76 campaign got under way, the rest of the franchises (Kentucky Colonels, Virginia Squires, San Antonio Spurs, Indiana Pacers, San Diego Sails, Spirits of St. Louis and Utah Stars) followed suit.

Each team sent an identical telegram to NBA Commissioner Larry O’Brien. It read:

“The (name of franchise) hereby request application for membership in the National Basketball Association, commencing with the 1976-77 season. If the NBA has interest in considering an application, we would like the NBA to join with us in petitioning Judge Robert L. Carter for permission to process an application under such circumstances as he may deem appropriate and consistent with his prior orders.”

Carter was hearing an action brought by the NBA Players Association in which they requested the right to negotiate with any team in any league. In addition, he had ruled that if there was a merger, it had to be approved by himself and the NBAPA.

On October 24, O’Brien said he was rejecting the ABA applications “for the time being,” meaning he was open to it once the legal issues were resolved.

And it wasn’t like there was any groundswell of support to save the ABA – not even among league officials. Commissioner Dave DeBusschere said owners pushed for a merger during their October 9-10 meetings.

“Of course, we realize this cannot be accomplished by our act alone because of outstanding court orders preventing any accommodations without the cooperation and agreement of the basketball players and the approval of the courts,” DeBusschere said in statement released by the league. “It is anticipated that our action will stimulate the necessary discussion between all the parties that make up professional basketball, owners and players alike, with a view toward putting professional basketball on a sound common sense and businesslike basis, ensuring its survival in a healthy atmosphere, free of  disputes, lawsuits and controversy for the ultimate benefit of its owners, players and most of all, its fans.”

I followed the NBA and enjoyed it (the Los Angeles Lakers and Milwaukee Bucks garnered most of my interest), but to me the ABA was more exciting – and far more fun to watch. It wasn’t just the red, white and blue basketballs, it was the free flowing, high-flying style of play.

Instead of a merger, I wanted to see two distinct leagues that remained separate until they played a best-of-seven Basketball World Series.

And the since the ABA came into its ninth year with a 31-17 record against the NBA in exhibition games, it had a legitimate shot at proving it was just as good (and sometimes better) than the senior circuit’s contingent.

Still, I was seeing all this through the lens of a 14-year old who had no interest in the business side of sports. If I had, I would’ve realized the ABA was already Dead League Walking.

At the dawn of the 1975-76 season, the NBA had 18 teams and a national TV contract with CBS. The ABA, on the other hand, had shrunk from the original 11 cities it repped beginning in 1967-68.

A Baltimore franchise (relocated from Memphis) folded during the preseason, and there was no countrywide television coverage. CBS stopped carrying ABA contests after the 1972-73 schedule was complete, and the Hughes Television Network deal was one-and-done in 1973-74.

The good news (for me, anyway) is that the Nets went on to win the championship in Year Nine.

The bad news is that the league as a whole limped to the finish line. The Sails folded after just 11 games and the Stars went out of business with a 4-12 record.

The Squires called it quits at the end of the regular season, leaving the American Basketball Association with only six squads.

New York wrapped up the title on May 13, 1976, and on June 17, it was announced that the Nets, Nuggets, Spurs and Pacers would be absorbed into the NBA. The Colonels and Spirit went sneakers up.

That was bittersweet news for me.

Yes, I was glad the Nets survived, but my favorite league was dead. It was as though the scrappy kids who rode the bus every day were now being forced to join a snooty private school – and play by their rules.

But, living in the past is depressing, so I’ve forgiven the NBA for smothering the ABA.

The Nets (now in Brooklyn) remain my favorite team, I continue to have a special fondness for the “leftovers” (Nuggets, Spurs, and Pacers), and I appreciate the stability and quality of a league that’s 30-teams strong.

The merger was, indeed, in the best interests of pro basketball.

Not gonna lie though – I’ll always miss those red, white and blue basketballs.