There has been a lot of talk about VCU and Butler's run through the tournament to end all tournaments: about how these teams shouldn't have been there, or that the other teams flopped. This is really offensive to both teams. If I were Georgetown, Purdue, Florida State (a ten seed, mind you) or Kansas, I would be offended if someone suggested that VCU didn't just beat us. That we lost to an inferior team. Who wants to lose to someone who sucks? I would rather lose to someone who is just better than I am. Kansas put up a hell of a fight, and clawed their way back into that game. Kansas had been dominant throughout the tournament, destroying what some considered to be a decent Illinois team, and making short work of the upstart Richmond Spiders. VCU was just better than Kansas, full stop; and there is no dishonor to losing to a better team.
The same can be said of Butler, the mid-major darlings of the Tournament. Every year, Butler wins a few games and everyone is surprised. Like Boise State and TCU's football program, Butler continually shows that clever coaching, strong fundamentals and a no-fear attitude will win you games experts predict you will lose.
It's sad that Butler is going to play second fiddle to VCU. The Rams just have a better story this year: a team no one thought should be there, a team scorned by pundits, played in a play-in game for the chance to compete, went on to win more games than anyone else left in the tournament and stands poised to do what George Mason failed to do not too long ago: advance to the finals as the lowest seed in history.
Everyone loves to root for underdogs; the only problem here is that both Butler and VCU are underdogs. Unfortunately for the Bulldogs, VCU is just slightly more underdogish.
The narrative of the NCAA Tournament is what makes it so great. It has the right amount of David-and-Goliath appeal, mixed with the surety of history and the excitement of every sports movie in history. The people in charge of seeding the bracket have a job that would rivals weathermen for the most unpopular clairvoyant. No bracket is ever going to make everyone happy, and this year there were particularly loud moans from Colorado (who beat Kansas State, a #5, three times), Virginia Tech and Alabama. USC, who lost to six suspicious teams and really didn't win against anyone exciting, raised some eyebrows. Harvard, who lost to Princeton in the Ivy League tournament, had a better overall record than Florida St. (#10), Clemson (#12), Louisville (#4), St. John's (#6), West Virginia (#5), Georgetown (#5), Villanova (#9), Marquette (#11), Illinois (#9), Michigan (#8), Michigan State (#10), Kansas State (#5), Missouri (#11), USC (who lost to VCU for a #11), and UAB (who Clemson beat for a #12). Harvard might have been able to do as well as any of those teams (most of which were out after the first two rounds).
I know the argument about schedules and opponent strength, but wins are wins. Princeton was a missed three away from beating Kentucky, who is in the Final Four. I also understand that the NCAA is there to make money, and the four or five guys who live for Harvard basketball aren't going to bring in the same revenue that the legions of Big East fans will. Couple that with the number of games each Big East school plays against other big name, heavy hitting schools, and one can understand why eleven of the sixteen teams made it while only one of the Ivy League teams got the nod. Still, knowing how much America loves a surprise victory, and knowing how well the underdog score card gets people in their seats, you think the NCAA seeders might float a chance on Harvard instead of one of the half-decent major conference schools.
But if they did, what would we, the arm chair pundits, have to complain about?
What I think should be taken from this, though, is the necessity for a college football playoff system. Right now, the Bowl games are an atrocity. There are countless Bowl games (last year, 35 total; who knows how many next year will have), half of which are uninteresting at best and down right esoteric at worst (The R+L Carriers New Orleans bowl where Troy faced University of Ohio [the wrong school in Ohio]). There is no purpose to the game: two teams play each other and then it's over; trophies are awarded to the winner while no one watches or cares. Here's a fun game: name the winners of the last three Beef 'O' Brady Tropicana Bowl? If I played in that game, I don't think I'd want a t-shirt to remind me of the horrible shame of being relegated to the Beef 'O' Brady Bowl.
But, make that Bowl a game needed to make it one step closer to a shot at the Championship Game, and suddenly I'm interested.
Of course, uprooting an entrenched system like the BCS is not easy. Some Bowls have tradition (like the Rose Bowl features representatives from the Big Ten and the Pac-10 conferences, unless they are occupied in the Championship Game), and that tradition is not impressed by a nation's desire to see a Championship earned, not named. Others, though, are just Bowls so certain divisions get a bowl game (like the Fiesta Bowl, which was created so that WAC teams got a bowl game). The point is: for most games (Rose Bowl and the Championship game aside), win or lose, no one but those fans of teams involved care. In the end, the winner of the Advocare V100 Independence Bowl wins only that game, which has little bearing to that team's championship status.
Now, if we took those same Bowls, and attached a one-and-done style playoff system to them, suddenly people would be interested. To make sure that the BCS still gets their money, the games could be played in a variety of locations across the country, just like the NCAA tournament. Because football needs an entire week between games to rest and prepare, the tourament might have to feature less teams, but that's fine. There is plenty of time between the last of the regular season games in late November/early December and the Championship game in January. Stretched out over five weeks with four divisions, the BCS could slot in 32 teams. The championship could rotate between the BCS Championship Bowl Stadiums (Rose, Fiesta, Orange and Sugar).
This way, little schools like Boise State and TCU, teams with impressive records and spunky spirit, could make an attempt at the Championship game. More often then not, the higher seeded teams win. According to Wikipedia, in the opening round of the basketball tournament, the higher seed is between 60 and 100% more likely to win the game (save the #8 v #9 game, in which the #8 wins only 47% of the time; but those teams are often very close in ability). More often than not at least one of the four #1 seeds make it to the Final Four. In 2009 all of the #1 seeds made it. But that's fine; it shows the world what the NCAA seeders knew all along: which teams were the best. No one is surprised or upset when a #1 seed wins, but everyone secretly prays to see that amazing game where a deep seeded underdog plays their hearts out and wins in the end.
Plus, with a football tournament, everyone would get to draw up brackets twice a year, predicting which David is going to best which over-hyped, overrated Goliath this winter. That's what picking the correct combination of underdogs can show: that we can more accurately judge the talents of these faceless college athletes better than our friends, family, and the experts that are paid to watch the games.
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