Why College Football Stands Above Rest

It had been building all week. Seven matchups within the top 25 of college football. If you were a sports fan, you couldn't go anywhere with out one of the numerous sports outlets previewing the upcoming smorgasbord of games. It was dubbed "Separation Saturday."

So when September 16 came around, you better believe that I was hyped up for the occasion. It was one of the rare times that I actually felt the build-up and entrusted that it would deliver. It did come through, but not in the way I imagined it to, or predicted that it would. I had an epiphany while watching college football put on a display of great games throughout the day. College football is far and away the most exciting sport to watch.

Now before you get up and arms and cite March Madness, or the Super Bowl, or the World Series, or the World Series of Poker, let me explain my point.

This wasn't a postseason matchup. It wasn't a special event that only comes around once a year. These were just regular season matchups. The thing that made it great is the thing that separates college athletics from every other genre. The passion.

All professional sports have passion, but not in the way that makes college sports and specifically college football head and shoulder above the rest. Every player in the NFL wants to win, they want to get to the Super Bowl and get a ring. Time and again we see players yearn for that jewelry, analysts rate a player's career on their bling. As Herm Edwards once said, "you play to win the game."

For many athletes who are on teams who are incapable of winning a sufficient amount of games right now, they begin to look elsewhere. There is no such thing as rebuilding, because the star athletes on those teams don't want to be around for that. The superstars of this generation want it easy. They use free agency to go to the top teams, and get the top dollars, or in some cases, pull a Clyde Drexler or Ray Borque — turn in their loyalty for the almighty bling.

We've seen it in every sport. Every year the Yankees go out and get the top players because they can put up the most money. We see players like Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine who were cornerstones in the Atlanta Braves dynasty let go for younger and more promising talent. Professional fans can't cheer for players, they can only cheer for teams, because one day you're celebrating "The Idiots" and the first World Series title in 86 years, the next, you notice only five players from that team still call Boston your home.

The rivalries of professional sports are over. Green Bay against Chicago last week warranted FOX's "No. 4" announcing team. We are talking about one of the most hallowed rivalries in professional sports, and not only was it not front-page news, the Bears wiped the floor with the Packers.

In the NBA, there is no Boston/L.A series, no New York/Chicago battles. It's gotten to the point that three years after the break-up of the Lakers, ABC and the NBA are still trying to build up a Kobe/Shaq throw-down on Christmas Day.

It's the same everywhere you look in professional sports — money is the root of all evil, and it has ruined the professional sports atmosphere.

That's what makes college athletics so great. You don't get your heart ripped out of you when your favorite team's star player gets lured over to a bigger school for bigger dollars. People play for tradition, they play for rivalries, they play for their respective colleges.

In this day and age, there are only two sports in college that generate the type of sponsorship and income to be discussed as rivaling professional sports. Basketball and football.

Football stands out for two reasons that mesh cohesively together. Every game counts and you can't control your own fate. This breeds an atmosphere where after every big play, everyone on the sideline is jumping up and down — the coaches, players, fans, it's mayhem — for a five-yard out.

In basketball, there are too many games. A team can lose one to seven games and be considered a contender. If you're hot going into the tournament, watch out because five months of games won't mean didly-squat if you put it all together, or blow it all in those three weeks of madness. For me, March is the best time of the year, the tournament is the best thing to happen to sports since sliced bread. However, that's the only time that matters — college coaches like Lute Olson use the regular season as a tune-up for the tourney, because no matter how many games you lose, if your strength of schedule is tough enough, you'll get a chance as long as you have a winning record.

In college football, one loss, and you're chances of winning the national title have just gone from great to non-existent. In addition to that, the majority of the colleges in the nation don't even have a chance to win a national title, but the fanfare is still the same at 25,000-seat stadiums like Alcorn State and University of Michigan's "Big House" that seats over 107,000 people.

In one of the early games, 18th-ranked Oregon hosting number 13 Oklahoma, the Ducks were down 33-20 with less the 90 seconds left in the game. Oregon scored on the next down, attempted an onside kick—succeeded, drove down the field, scored to take the lead 34-33; kicked off to Oklahoma, who in turn drove down the field with less than 20 seconds left to get into field goal range, only to have their attempt blocked. The Quack attack flooded the field, players, coaches and fans alike. Anyone who has been in college and has gone to a football game or two has a story like this. It's college football at its best, and the reason why its passion and atmosphere is second to none.

As Oregon ran off the field in jubilation, the Sooners, shocked at what happened, stood there stunned. At one end of the spectrum, jubilation, on the other utter despair. In September — only in college football.