By Jackson Posey | Sports Writer
In 2021, Baylor football fans rushed the field at McLane Stadium after knocking off No. 8 University of Oklahoma 27-14. It was a thrilling moment — a high point in a season full of them.
And it will never happen again.
Baylor will win more big games — I’m not saying otherwise — and the university may have to pay more fines if a second wave of Baylor Line jerseys hits the field. But just two years after the Sooners lost in McLane Stadium for the first time, it’s becoming more evident they might never return to Waco.
“Realignment” has become a boogeyman term for college football fans, understandably so. No one wants the Power Five to become a Power Four. But more than on-field competition, the overnight reshuffling of entire athletic departments has created nonsensical, Frankenstein-esque conferences with only one goal in mind: making as much money as possible for as long as possible. College sports are an economy, and we — the fans — are the product.
Not long ago, Texas A&M University didn’t share a conference with Vanderbilt University. Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey didn’t make regular trips west of Lake Michigan, and the University of Connecticut’s football program (sort of) meant something. Then the University of Nebraska and the University of Colorado left for greener pastures up north. Texas A&M and the University of Missouri turned their sights eastward. In hindsight, perhaps the University of Texas and Oklahoma’s departures shouldn’t have surprised anyone. If anything, the most shocking part is the Big 12’s high-wire escape from seemingly certain demise.
But is it even worth it?
The best part about college sports isn’t the big games or the big talents or the oh-so-renowned TV deals. (Those who like corporatized sports can tune in on Sundays for their dreams to come true.)
No, the heartbeat of college football is the passion. The deep, honest vitriol — not toward a people, but toward a brand. Toward an ugly shade of orange and a logo that should turn 180 degrees — at least, according to my estimation. Toward a purple school that couldn’t hack it in Waco, as far as I’m concerned. Toward some tumbleweed town that admittedly has some pretty sick tortilla throwing skills.
Everyone who grew up in Texas has a friend who went to Texas A&M or the University of Arkansas. Norman, Okla., is close enough for a day trip. These schools recruit the same players and students. Their logos pop up in the same high school libraries and jersey days. Nothing is better than ribbing one’s buddies from back home, wherever that is, about how badly their teams lost. But as the sport forsakes the very regional ties that make it so great, much of that will be lost.
Sure, Baylor and Brigham Young University will play some great games, and they already have. But the University of Utah? The University of Cincinnati? Those rivalries are contrived at best and nonexistent at worst. People will show up because people love football. But will anyone storm the field against the University of Arizona? Is a University of Central Florida game billboard material?
We’ll learn to love the conference because we always do and because we have no choice. But it’ll never be the same. College sports’ manifest destiny will make millions of dollars, but at what cost? The very thing that made it so special in the first place.
