The College Football Playoffs begin this week, and Dr. Pick’ Em–my favorite pigskin prognosticator, whose 83% success rate is as frightening as it is accurate–sent a postcard from the Caribbean to mark the occasion. On the front, a pristine beach. On the back, his verdict on the real winners scrawled in black Sharpie: “The Rich and Powerful.”
The bracket reveal is engineered to feel like the season’s crescendo, a pure celebration of merit. But Dr. Pick ‘Em, whose analytical precision is matched only by a cynicism grand enough to fill a stadium, sees the final rankings for what they are: the financial scaffolding of a system designed to protect two conferences, six high-rent bowls, and the owner’s box–the broadcast networks.
In the age of Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) and the open transfer portal, college football finally has the ingredients for its own version of a magical tournament. Any ambitious program is now one phenomenal class of transfers away from being a true Cinderella, much like the teams that make March Madness so captivating. The overnight success of teams like Tulane, Vanderbilt, and Indiana demonstrates that NIL brings us closer to NFL parity, where a year-to-year talent infusion can spark a rapid ascent.
Yet, the CFP selection committee does its level best to discourage these potential Cinderellas. Instead of rewarding the magic, we have a system that awards a county fair’s blue ribbon based on the pig’s grandfather’s pedigree rather than the quality of its bacon. The committee favors the brand over the product, the résumé over the reality on the field.
The bowls, the networks, and the established power conferences act as the evil stepmother, using their structural power–television slots, scheduling prestige, and the subjective final vote–to ensure their favorites get the spotlight. The CFP, as currently constructed, discourages the glass slipper moment.
The transfer market and the conference shield
The inclusion of Indiana as a top seed is the perfect, living example of an NIL-fueled Cinderella story, but it comes with a massive asterisk that the committee ignores.
For decades, Indiana was the quintessential “potato cellar” program. When Coach Curt Cignetti was hired, he utilized the one-year blitz. He built a gritty foundation with over 30 transfers in his first season, then proved the model sustainable by reloading in year two with difference-makers like quarterback Fernando Mendoza. He and defensive anchors Mikail Kamara and Aiden Fisher transformed a perennial Big Ten bottom-feeder into a powerhouse.
But let’s be honest: Indiana’s Cinderella story only has a happy ending because of the logo on its jersey.
If this same scrappy, transfer-fueled squad were in the SEC – take Vanderbilt as a prime example – it would have faced Georgia, Texas, Alabama, and LSU. Instead of a pristine record and a No. 1 seed, the Hoosiers would be sitting at 8-4 or 9-3, likely watching the playoffs from home. A mid-major with the same talent would be fighting for the single “Group of Five” crumb left on the table. Indiana got the invite not just because it is good, but because the Big Ten provided a path protected by brand bias.
The Big Ten’s mirage vs. the SEC meat grinder
This year’s bracket has reignited the sport’s oldest feud, with arguments echoing from Columbus barbershops to Tuscaloosa BBQ joints. Big Ten fans point to the top of the board: their conference secured two of the top four seeds. It looks like dominance. But the illusion shatters upon inspection. The Big Ten placed only one other team, Penn State, in the 12-team field – a stark lack of depth.
Contrast that with the SEC, which placed five teams in the bracket but saw three more top-25 teams excluded. This isn’t about conference pride; it’s about the brutal physics of the schedule. Metrics like SP+, which measure dominance, show the SEC’s top tier dwarfing the Big Ten’s. For an SEC contender, a “break” means facing a Kentucky team full of future NFL draft picks. The bruises are cumulative.
The committee, in a rare nod to reality, tacitly admitted that surviving the SEC gauntlet with two losses is a more impressive feat than navigating a top-heavy Big Ten schedule unscathed, ranking a 10-2 Texas A&M ahead of an 11-1 champion from a weaker conference.
The Aggie anomaly: earning the slipper
Which brings us to the Texas A&M Aggies (11-1, No. 7 seed), the team Dr. Pick ‘Em believes is currently playing the best football in America. By any measure, the Aggies are surging. Their defense is suffocating, and their offense has found a ruthless rhythm. Their body of work was forged in the SEC’s fiercest fires.
Their single blemish came not in a sleepy September game, but in the final week against a desperate Texas Longhorns squad fighting for its playoff life. In the cold calculus of evaluation, A&M was penalized for the difficulty of its environment and denied a first-round bye, a classic case of the system favoring the “clean” résumé over the “hard” one.
Meanwhile, contenders like Notre Dame built cases on “Soft Landings.” The Irish touted a win over a dysfunctional Arkansas as proof of grit, while padding their schedule with scheduled convalescences against the likes of Stanford and Virginia. By excluding the Irish, the committee sent a powerful message: a glossy win total built on cupcakes is a liability.
Cathedrals, chapels, and a ray of hope
The current two-tiered ecosystem is patently unfair. The big winners are the Cathedrals of Revenue – the major bowls and networks. The dozens of other bowl games became Sidelined Chapels.
However, there is a sliver of hope. An expanded playoff system might actually rescue the very bowl ecosystem it appears to be decimating. By moving the first four CFP games to campus sites, the quarterfinal and semifinal rounds are now exclusively hosted by the New Year’s Six bowls. That guarantees those premier games remain significant and hugely profitable.
If the CFP were to expand again to 16 teams, more bowls would be absorbed into the playoff structure, providing guaranteed relevance and financial survival for more of the postseason. In this way, the CFP’s growth could offer a lifeline to the institutions it previously left floundering.
For now, though, the system implicitly tells fans of “Chapel” schools that their passion is secondary. Notre Dame’s reaction–a public sulk with players sprinting for the portal–taught us that for many, only the Cathedral matters.
Prediction: the gauntlet’s payoff
Despite the bias, Dr. Pick ‘Em is betting on the one asset the system can’t purchase: Momentum. He sees this bracket breaking for the battle-tested.
First Round: Oklahoma survives a slugfest against Alabama, while Texas A&M smothers Miami in College Station.
The Run: A&M’s physicality breaks the will of Texas Tech’s high-flying offense, followed by a defensive masterpiece against Georgia.
The Championship: The moneyed favorite, Ohio State, against the fire-forged Texas A&M.
Final Prediction: Texas A&M 31, Ohio State 27
The rich usually get richer in this sport. But this January, Dr. Pick ‘Em is wagering that a team forged in fire will prove that a champion can still be crowned by the scoreboard, not by pedigree.
But don’t hold your breath for a total revolution. The system makes sure the stepsisters get to the dance while the Cinderellas stay home.
