Scott Adamson, Author at Adamsonmedia.com

‘Saving’ the bowls

I gotta admit … when it comes to how the College Football Playoff bracket shook out, I don’t have strong feelings one way or the other. Why should I?

I’m a UAB alum. The Blazers have 99 problems and the CFP ain’t one.

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

Plus, my newspaper career ended eight years ago, so I’m not morally obligated (or paid) to opine about such things. Considering there are thousands of writers and talking heads with hot takes already out there, my faux indignation would get lost in the shuffle, anyway.

(For the record, I’ve always pushed for a 16-team format, which means there would still be bitching and moaning, albeit four less schools doing the bitching and moaning).

However, after everyone stopped screaming about the CFP, they started screaming about the broken bowl system. This, my friends, is a holiday tradition I can always get behind.

As you know, Notre Dame didn’t make the 12-team playoff cut, so the Fighting Irish opted to refuse a bowl invitation. They posted a statement on social media that reads:

“As a team, we’ve decided to withdraw our name from consideration for a bowl game following the 2025 season. We appreciate all the support from our families and fans, and we’re hoping to bring the 12th national title to South Bend in 2026.”

Kansas State and Iowa State – both undergoing coaching changes – also decided to stay home for the postseason (and were levied hefty fines for doing so because, well, leagues have contracts with these events). That left the non-playoff crowd scrambling to find fill-ins with losing records, but even the likes of 5-7 Florida State and Auburn said, “Nah, we’re good.”

Truth is, the days of bowl games being “rewards” are long gone. The myth of college football has been replaced by the reality of NIL, transfer portals, late season coaching changes and players sitting out so they can rest up for NFL training camps. The game is merely another version of pro football now, with athletes and coaches basically free agents every year.

That said, I’ve never been one of those, “We have too many bowls!” people. There were 136 Football Bowl Subdivision schools in 2025, and if there had been 68 bowls to accommodate each team, that would be fine by me. You don’t have to watch them all, you know.

In fact, the only postseason games I recall sitting through last season were the first round playoff between Ohio State and Tennessee, the Sugar Bowl and the CFP National Championship Game. None of the others interested me enough to make the four hour time commitment.

Anyway, I’m hitting the NyQuil pretty hard because of cough due to cold, and the resulting mind fog inspired me to come up with an idea on how to “save” the bowls.

It is (drum roll, please) an NIT-style tourney for the schools that didn’t get a playoff bid. I call it the College Football National Invitation Tournament, or CFB NIT.

This year’s CFP, for example, features four on-campus games followed by quarterfinals in the Cotton, Orange, Rose and Sugar Bowls, semis in the Fiesta and Peach Bowls, and then the Championship Game.

A College Football NIT would see four on-campus games followed by quarterfinal matchups in, say, the Liberty, Holiday, Alamo and New Orleans Bowls, semis in the Pinstripe and Fenway Bowls, and the NIT Championship Game. (I’m just using those bowls as examples – I don’t care which ones are involved).

The first twist here is since it’s an “invitational,” records are of no consequence. If a team is butthurt and doesn’t care to participate, that’s fine. The selection committee moves on, finds out which teams want to play, then seeds ‘em and matches ‘em up.

The second twist is players on the winning teams get a cash prize through some kind of NIL deal. They already receive swag bags before the games, so why not sweeten the pot with a spendable bonus at the end?

Plus, the winner of the CFB NIT earns a nice trophy and can claim a consolation title at the end of the season. It wouldn’t make the lesser bowls any more important, but it would make them seem more important.

Beyond that, any bowl-saving plans I come up with reek of desperation … like playing bowls during the preseason.

Have Ohio State and Southern California square off in a mid-August Rose Bowl, while Georgia meets Notre Dame in a Week Less-Than-Zero Sugar Bowl.

The gimmick here is that these games are truly exhibitions and don’t count on either team’s records. Voters in the Associated Press and Coaches Poll can use them for ranking purposes, but the participants enter a new year with a clean slate.

Lastly, and even more desperate …

Replace intrasquad spring games with bowl games. Big-time programs already draw well for these glorified practices, so imagine the excitement for an April Cotton Bowl between Texas and Michigan.

Does all this sound ridiculous? Yeah, it does.

Then again, it’s ridiculous for UCLA to be in the Big Ten, it’s ridiculous that the Big Ten has 18 members and – frankly – it’s ridiculous that we pretend college football is a showcase for “student-athletes” and not a billion dollar business.

If a bowl game isn’t part of the CFP, it’s just a way for networks to fill three and a half hours of holiday air time. Certainly some kids are thrilled to go bowling – especially if they play for a non-Power 4 school – but nowadays its mostly just an extra game that many would rather not be a part of.

So, I’m at peace with whatever happens to the system going forward. Add bowls, subtract bowls, end bowls … makes no difference to me. As long as I have my NyQuil handy, I’m prepared for any actuality.

Tourist Trap

The main drag in Oglesburg Tennessee – White Oak Parkway –snakes through the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. The businesses that line it, framed by countless trees jutting from the summit, are typical of many tourist towns.

There’s a confectionery shop, Sugar South, that allows customers to lean in and see how the candy is made. After munching on free samples of chocolate and caramel delights, those with a sweet tooth are convinced to buy more by the sack full.

The Old Tyme Baking House cookie kitchen opens at 5 a.m. each day, and the smell of gingerbread spices the early morning air.

A clothing store, Tennessee Stylin’, offers everything from sweatshirts adorned with the smiling face of a friendly black bear to Come Ogle At Oglesburg and Oglesburg: A Place For Carryin’ On Then Marryin’ Long novelty tees.

And of course, moving past the drop-in restaurants and mini-museums means being accosted by the frenetic young man promising three nights and two days of luxurious lodging if you’ll be so kind as to listen to his 90-minute infomercial for the condos located just on the outskirts of town.

There is plenty to do and see in Oglesburg, and the constant parade of families means entrepreneurs are eager to set up shop.

One of the newest and more popular stops is Fanny and Flossie’s Family Figurines. The modest storefront features colorful caricatures of Fanny and Flossy, the sisters who own and operate the curio shop. Once inside, though, guests find themselves marveling at miniature plastic replicas of people and places that are exacting in their depiction.

Stores that allow customers to play dress up while posing for sepiatone photos in saloons and dance halls remain popular, but this is a step above.

Newlyweds, families – anyone – can have their images recreated in 1/8 scale thanks to what Fancy and Flossy call their “Miniature Memories Machine.”

“How y’all doin’?” Fanny asked, her southern twang greeting a young couple who wandered in from the busy street. “Where ya from?”

The young woman smiled broadly.

“Columbus, Ohio,” she said. “I’m Sally and this is my husband, Frank. We’re on our honeymoon.”

“Well, bless your heart,” chimed in Flossy. “Might not want to say it too loud, though. People in these parts are still mad about y’all kickin’ our hind ends in that football game last year. I’m just kiddin’ – everybody comes to Oglesburg to have fun. And Fanny and me don’t care much for sports, anyway.”

Sally leaned down and carefully examined the displays; the figurines were incredibly lifelike.

“This is amazing,” Sally said, pointing to a creation that featured what appeared to be a mom, dad, two young children and their labrador retriever standing in front of a fountain. “The hair on the dog is incredibly realistic. If I’m careful, can I touch it?”

“Go ahead,” Flossy said. “It’s plastic so it ain’t gone break.”

Sally ran her hand over the dog figure.

“Wow,” she said. “I half-expected it to be fur but, yeah, it sure feels like plastic.”

Fanny eyed Frank and winked.

“I bet your bride would be real impressed if you bought her a figurine of you and her all cuddled up in the Smokies,” she said. “All you have to do is step into our studio and then our Miniature Memories Machine can have your figurine ready in a week to 10 days.”

Frank looked at Sally and shrugged.

“I dunno,” he said. “I mean, these figurines look fantastic, but I doubt we could afford it. Something this realistic can’t come cheap.”

Fanny shook her head.

“You’d be wrong, young man,” she said. “Does $20 sound like too much?”

Franks eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” he exclaimed. “You could do a figurine of us for just $20?”

“Oh, honey,” she said. “We ain’t in this for the money. Flossy and me just love seein’ people happy. And with our low prices, we can make a lot of people happy. Just consider this our Honeymoon Special, special-made for you two lovebirds.”

Sally and Frank looked at each other.

“It’s a deal,” Sally said. “So, what do we do?”

Fanny pointed to a door leading to a back room.

“Nothin’ to it,” she said. “We have all kinds of backgrounds in there, and all we do is put you in front of one – I think the fancy term for it is a green screen – take your picture, and run it through our Miniature Memories Machine. Why don’t you two go on in there and get ready? There’s a ticket you need to fill out in there with your address so we’ll know where to send your figurine, and there’s a book with all sorts of backgrounds to choose from. And the best part? You don’t even need to pay us right now. You can just send your money when you get your plastic likeness … we want to make sure you’re completely satisfied with it. We’ll give you a couple of minutes to decide, and then we’ll be right in. Just close the door once you’re inside, if you don’t mind.”

Sally and Frank walked in and shut the door behind them. Flossy waited a moment, eyed the door, and pulled a small wooden wand from her dress pocket. With a short wave of the instrument she shouted, “Stasis Permanentus!”

She opened the door to the room and it was empty, except for the Miniature Memories Machine.

The square contraption hummed and clicked, and in less than a minute a 1/8 scale figure of Sally and Frank standing at the entrance of the Great Smoky Mountains was produced.

Fanny eyed the art and gave a thumbs up.

“Another good one, sister,” she said. “Another real good one. Looks just exactly like ‘em.”

“It should Fanny, since it is them,” Flossy said with a chuckle. “But I can’t take all the credit. When you combine witchcraft and a 3D printer, well … it’s magic.”

The Galloping Ghost goes pro

A hundred years ago, college football was considered the pinnacle of the sport. And once a star player finished his classroom obligations and university gridiron career, polite society expected him to either move on to the business world or learn the coaching craft.

Halfback/quarterback/defensive back Harold “Red” Grange, however, had other ideas.

You know the joke about elite players going to school and majoring in football? In a way, that’s what “The Galloping Ghost” did.

And at the time, it caused quite a bit of controversy.

On November 22, 1925 – a day after leading Illinois to a 14-9 victory over Ohio State in his final game as an amateur – Grange signed to play professionally for the Chicago Bears. There were rumors he was already being paid by agent C.C. Pyle, although he insisted he didn’t partner with Pyle until after the season-ending contest.

Regardless, the NFL team promised to pay him $30,500 per game, which is the equivalent of nearly $565,000 in 2025 money.

Not a bad deal for a 22-year-old who still hadn’t earned his degree.

“I have received many alluring offers to enter fields of enterprise in which I have had no training or experience,” Grange told the Associated Press. “I believe the public will be better satisfied with my honesty and good motives if I turn my efforts to that field in which I have been most useful in order to reap a reward which will keep the home fires burning. I am leaving college temporarily but will return later.”

Illinois athletics director George Huff, football coach Robert Zuppke and even Grange’s father, Lyle, wanted the superstar to seek employment away from the field.

Ultimately, however, Lyle Grange supported his son’s decision.

“I am sorry that he did not accept the other offers made him,” his dad said. “But as long as the boy has decided to play professional football, I hope he will be a success and make the best of it. Harold is capable of looking out for himself and I have a lot of faith in him.”

At the time the NFL – just six years old – was not much of a draw at the box office. The hope was that bringing Grange into the league would change that.

He was to play six games with the Bears to close out the season and then embark on a barnstorming tour in Florida.

The deal was arguably the biggest sports news of the year.

From a November 23, 1925 Associated Press story:

Harold “Red” Grange, the reigning football hero of the moment, will don his fighting togs again Thanksgiving Day but he will not wear the famous “77” of collegiate days. For Red has turned professional to follow, as he phrases it, the business he knows best. Declaring that he had no training that would enable him to accept other alluring offers, the strawberry blonde warrior of the chalked field signed a contract yesterday that will place him in the Chicago Bears lineup for six games, after which he will invade Florida during the holidays.

A November 25 editorial in the La Crosse Tribune even provided Grange with a backhanded compliment on his decision to play for pay:

People who think that Red Grange is making a mistake in postponing his ‘career’ for professional football should consider that the game already offers a career in itself, comparable to that of league baseball. It is a less honorific career, perhaps, than one of the professions. We do not take presidents, supreme court judges or ambassadors from the ranks of ball-players. But we have had governors and congressmen who began their careers on the diamond.

The NFL certainly got what it paid for.

Grange’s Turkey Day debut against the Chicago Cardinals was played in front of more than 36,000 fans at what is now Wrigley Field, and 70,000-plus paid for seats at the Polo Grounds to see the Bears tangle with the New York Giants in his next outing.

Grange was the indisputable star of the show, and drew huge crowds everywhere he played.

When he couldn’t come to terms with the Bears in 1926, Pyle formed a new league (the short-lived American Football League) and new team (New York Yankees) to showcase the generational talent.

As it turns out, Grange never did return to Illinois to get his degree. He did, however, wind up in the Pro Football Hall of Fame – one of 17 charter members. He is also in the inaugural class of the College Football Hall of Fame.

A devastating knee injury in 1927 took away his speed, but he became a star DB during his last few seasons of pro ball. He retired in 1935 after playing in 237 games. He went on to be an assistant coach for the Bears before dabbling in acting. Later, he worked in everything from broadcasting to motivational speaking and private business.

(Grange was even tapped as commissioner of the 1940s iteration of the United States Football League. More on that here:

adamsonmedia.com/nfl-aafc-pro-football/

After hanging up his cleats, Grange was asked if jumping to pro ball in 1925 was the right decision.

“I’d probably do the same thing,” he said. “I wouldn’t sell the friendships and contacts I’ve made in professional football for anything. About the only thing I’m sure I wouldn’t do is make some of the investments I did, but I guess there are a lot of people in the same boat with me.”