Category: History and More

For the first time in major college football history, we’re finally getting a playoff in the 2024 season.

Wait … what?

“But, Scott,” you say, even though I can’t hear you, “the Football Bowl Subdivision has had a playoff since 2014. You must be smoking your kale.”

Ah, yes – the College Football Playoff. Before this year, it involved four teams tapped by a 13-person selection committee. Call it what you like, but when you have four schools out of more than 130 vying for a championship, that’s not a playoff – that’s an invitational.

Starting this December, however, the FBS postseason will look more than an honest to goodness tournament since 12 teams will be in the hunt for a title. The field will include the five highest-ranked conference champions – which will receive automatic bids – plus the seven highest-ranked teams remaining in the CFP poll.

The top four conference champs get a first-round bye to the quarterfinals and will be seeded 1-4. Seeds 5-12 will play each other in the first round with the higher-seeded teams hosting.

So, the first round matchups will be:

• No. 5 vs. No. 12
• No. 6 vs. No. 11
• No. 7 vs. No. 10
• No. 8 vs. No. 9

“New Year’s Six” bowl games will come into play in the quarterfinal round, while the semifinals will be played in bowls on a rotating basis and the national championship site will be bid on and continue to be called the College Football Playoff National Championship.

It’s not as comprehensive or good as the 24-team Football Championship Subdivision playoff, but it’s good enough for now and has room to expand. I’m guessing in most seasons, the only teams with a  legitimate chance of wearing the crown will be among the 12 who are hand-picked to fight for it.

College football playoffs, of course, have been cussed and discussed for as long as I can remember, although the idea used to be little more than a pipe dream. Back in the mid-1960s the NCAA set up a committee to study the feasibility of a playoff, but that initial push died on the vine.

Then 50 years ago, legendary Notre Dame coach Ara Parseghian became a vocal supporter.

On December 31, 1973, his No. 3-ranked Fighting Irish upset No. 1 Alabama, 24-23, in the Sugar Bowl. The Crimson Tide had already claimed the United Press International title (UPI named its champion before the bowl games) but Notre Dame got the nod from the Associated Press after finishing 11-0.

Penn State was 12-0 that year, while Ohio State and Oklahoma closed their campaigns with 10-0-1 worksheets.

On. Jan. 1, 1974 – before AP released its final poll – Parseghian made his case.

“I’ll be disappointed if we’re not No. 1 … I think we deserve it,” Parseghian told AP. “Somebody has to take the bull by the horns. Our game with Alabama is the greatest proof that some sort of official playoff is needed.”

Parseghian suggested a 16-team tourney, based on either a team’s record or by NCAA selection.

“We have enough bowls now – in fact, more than enough – to handle the procedure,” he explained. “The final game could be rotated among the four major bowls, Rose, Sugar, Orange and Cotton.”

Back in the day – before we had made-for-ESPN games like the Extreme Disco Chicken Tenders Bowl and Buttcrack Plumbing Classic – postseason matchups really were special. In 1974, for example, there were only 11 bowl games available for “big time” schools. This year, there will be 41 – plus the national championship and four first round playoff games played at campus sites.

And in the 70s, some coaches didn’t want to mess with the holiday tradition of college football. One of them was Southern Cal boss John McKay, who was also head of the American Football Coaches Association in 1974.

“I think the NCAA would like to have it, but can they work it out,” McKay wondered when asked by an AP reporter. “No one has proved one way or the other whether it would eliminate the bowls. My feeling is we shouldn’t eliminate the bowls because they’ve been so good to college football.

“The biggest problem with a playoff is the number of extra games it would require. Most bowl games are played during non-examination periods.”

McKay added that he didn’t want the NCAA to follow the NFL model.

“We’d be getting tied up with what the pros do,” he said. “Their Super Bowl is the dullest game of the year. I won’t even watch it.”

And there were those who suggested the controversy surrounding “mythical national champions” was good for the game.

Maryland coach Jerry Claiborne thought so, even after Parseghian’s suggestion.

“Right now, you’ve got a champion in Notre Dame and teams like Ohio State and Penn State which think they should be No. 1,” Claiborne said. “Everyone keeps writing and talking about it.”

The world – and the college football world – has changed dramatically over the past 50 years. Major conference FBS football is now basically NFL Lite, with players able to earn compensation for their labor over the table instead of under it. And it probably won’t be long before the 50 or 60 elite programs break away and form their own version of a College Super League.

But after the Bowl Coalition, Bowl Alliance, Bowl Championship Series and a four-team CFP, what Parseghian hoped for in 1974 has now more or less come to pass.

It’s gonna be fun to see how it all shakes out.

For a team I never really cheered for and haven’t followed in, oh, about 40 years, I’m gonna miss the Oakland A’s.

I wasn’t around for their playing days in Philadelphia (1901-1954) and was born six years after they began their 13-season run in Kansas City (1955-1967). For much of my lifetime they’ve been in California and in my mind, that’s where they’re supposed to be. Their last stand in their longtime home came on Thursday with a 3-2 victory against the Texas Rangers in front of 46,889 fans at the Oakland Coliseum.

And once the final out is made in their road game against the Seattle Mariners today, the A’s era repping the East Bay will officially be done; it ends with a losing record and fourth place finish in the American League West.

They’ll hole up temporarily in Sacramento, starting with the 2025 season, before eventually moving to their new home in Las Vegas. That still seems so weird to me … a gambling hub in the desert is now a major league city that has claimed Oakland’s football and baseball teams.

Anyway, even though I’ve never been to Oakland, it still feels like I lost something with their slow walk to Sin City.

For one thing, I was one of those kids who goobed out over gimmicks, and the “Swingin’ A’s” caught my attention in the 1970s because of their unis. While the colors of Major League Baseball were primarily white and gray, the A’s were green and bright gold – and featured multiple combinations. I might’ve been young, but I was all about sartorial elegance.

And in 1973, A’s owner Charlie Finley introduced orange baseballs, which were used in a couple of spring training games.

The players didn’t seem to care for them, but I thought the concept was fantastic.

You deck out a team in green and gold and have them hitting orange baseballs and, well … be still my nerdy heart.

But my close (and only) encounter with the Oakland A’s came on May 15, 1975, when they were the first MLB team I was supposed to see play live.

They were at Birmingham’s Rickwood Field to take on their Southern League farm club, the Birmingham A’s, and it was to be the baseball event of the season for everyone in the Magic City.

A crowd upwards of 12,000 was predicted and Pop (my dad) had not only bought tickets early, but driven us to the park three hours before gametime to avoid any potential traffic issues.

Oakland won back-to-back-to-back World Series in 1972-73-74 and were the reigning giants of the professional game. While I gravitated more to the New York Yankees and Chicago Cubs (when I wasn’t obsessing over football), Pop explained that since most of Oakland’s players had once played in Birmingham, it made sense to follow the Alvin Dark-managed A’s even if I didn’t necessarily root for them.

I had never seen a pro baseball game of any kind, and I was about to see one of the best clubs in the history of the National Pastime.

Oakland’s announced starting lineup featured Vida Blue on the mound and Gene Tenace behind the plate.

The infield consisted of Joe Rudi (first base), Phil Garner (second), Bert Campaneris (shortstop) and Sal Bando (third).

Claudell Washington (left), Bill North (center) and Reggie Jackson (right) stood in the outfield, and Billy Williams was designated hitter.

Pretty impressive group, huh? Rollie Fingers was on the pitching staff, meaning I was in the presence of three future Hall of Famers (Fingers joins Jackson and Williams in Cooperstown).

I even got Garner’s autograph because kids were allowed on the field during warmups (and the crowd around him was less than that surrounding the bigger stars).

It was the perfect evening – right up until Rickwood Field became Rickwood Lake.

Heavy rains flooded the field before the scheduled 7:30 p.m. start and lightning knocked out a pair of light towers, sending fans scurrying for cover – and the big league A’s scurrying to the airport where they were headed to New York to take on the Yankees.

What was to be my first live baseball game was, unfortunately, a washout.

Still, Oakland had made its mark. The A’s jumpstarted my interest in Major League Baseball, and I watched them on TV every chance I got in 1975.
When they were swept three games to none by the Boston Red Sox in the ALCS, I was truly disappointed. I already despised the Sox, but felt I also had a connection with the A’s – waterlogged as it was.

Alas, my disappointment faded, as did my interest.

The Birmingham A’s weren’t much of a draw, and the franchise moved to Chattanooga in 1976 (and became the Chattanooga Lookouts).

With no more team in my town – and no more ties to Oakland – I became little more than a casual observer. I had moved on to other pursuits long before they officially changed their name to “Athletics,” launched the Rickey Henderson legend, signed Mark McGwire, won the 1989 World Series, and went through the “Moneyball” era.

And if I’m being honest (and I am), I don’t even know what happened to Garner’s autograph. After 49 years, I’m fairly sure it’s lost forever.

Today, though, I’ll pour one out for the green and gold wearing, orange baseball bashing, Swingin’ A’s of my youth.

I’m so glad I almost got to see them play.

Fifty years ago, the NFL was ready for a makeover.

Despite a work stoppage that disrupted the preseason, the league entered the 1974 campaign hoping to fend off a challenge from the new World Football League by adding some excitement to the established professional game.

With fans complaining about too much defense and not enough explosive plays, league officials decided to open things up with some major rule changes.

The WFL had already thrown down the offensive gauntlet with radical innovations such as touchdowns being worth seven points, an “action point” to replace the PAT, one back allowed in motion toward the line of scrimmage, the elimination of fair catches on punts, kickoffs from the 30-yard line, and an overtime period divided into two, seven and a half minute segments.

The NFL wasn’t willing to go quite as far as the upstarts, but did make some significant tweaks:

• Kickoffs from the 35-yard line
• Goal posts situated at the back of the end zone
• Prohibiting the offensive team from moving downfield until the ball was kicked on punts
• The addition of a sudden death overtime period for regular season games. The first team to score in O.T. would win, and if the score was still tied after 15 minutes the game would end in a tie.

All 26 NFL teams got a taste of the new rules during the exhibition slate, and during one weekend the overtime procedure was used in three different games. But in the second week of the 1974 regular season, fans finally experienced an official bonus round of football, courtesy of the Pittsburgh Steelers and Denver Broncos.

In 1973 the league standings were littered with ties, with Cleveland, Kansas City, Denver, and Green Bay each having two draws on their worksheet and six other teams involved in stalemates. In fact, there had been 256 ties since the NFL was formed in 1920.

During contract negotiations in the summer of 1974 (which led to a brief strike) the NFL Players Association demanded that the overtime rule be scrapped.

“We reject this demand on the basis that it subjects the players to undue risk of injury and because the rule constitutes a unilateral change in working conditions,” wrote NFLPA executive director Ed Garvey.

However, once play began, the new rule was in place.

“I think it’s important for a team to control its own destiny,” Kansas City Chiefs coach Hank Stram said to United Press International. “As a result, I think it’s good we will have an opportunity to win a football game by the sudden-death rule.”

With an extra quarter to settle the issue, the chances of a game ending without a winner decreased dramatically. And after 60 minutes at Denver’s Mile High Stadium, the Broncos and Steelers had an even split of 70 points.

At 35-35, offense had already won the day, so it stood to reason the NFL’s new rule would result in its intended consequence.

Unfortunately, while there were plenty of points scattered across the first 60 minutes, there were none in the extra 15.

Jim Turner had a chance to win it for Denver late in overtime, but his 41-yard field goal attempt sailed wide right. And when the horn sounded after 75 minutes of football time (and three hours, forty-nine minutes of real time) the issue still hadn’t been settled.

“I don’t think either team deserved to lose, and neither team did,” Denver coach John Ralston said in a Greely Daily Tribune story. “We had our shot and they had theirs. I think it is very fitting to end in a tie.”

Even so, Ralston hinted that another rule change might’ve been better.

“If we had (the 2-point conversion) rule, that would’ve decided it, likely without overtime,” Ralston said. “But 15 minutes of extra playing is enough.”

Pittsburgh boss Chuck Noll was relieved his team didn’t lose, but would’ve preferred to have earned the tie the old-fashioned way.

“I don’t like the idea of overtime,” Noll told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. “I have a tired football team that has to get ready to play next week. If we’d have one of these every week, it’d kill our team.”

Obviously, the Steelers didn’t have to play five quarters every week, although overtimes have been quite common over the last half century. The only other O.T. contest in 1974 was between the New York Jets and New York Giants, with the Jets winning, 26-20, after scoring a touchdown at the 6:53 mark of the fifth quarter.

There have been 29 regular season ties since 1974, with the last coming on December 4, 2022, when the New York Giants and Washington Commanders finished at 20-20. Starting with the 2017 season, O.T. periods were shortened to 10 minutes.

College football has already figured out to way to make sure every game ends with a winner, and perhaps the NFL will, too – someday. Until then, there’s always a chance both teams will get a share of the spoils.