Not convinced … ask any Penn State fan.
The poll is a tradition as old as that annual donation to the Nittany Lion Club and as reliable as a preseason Heisman shortlist scribbled on a cocktail napkin at Champs.
This year’s poll, released with the usual fanfare and self-congratulation of a royal decree, assured us, without any doubt, that the national championship would be a coronation for one of the usual college football aristocracies: Alabama, Georgia. Ohio State, or Michigan. This year that poll also included Penn State.
Back in August, analysts assured us that the preseason Top 10 was destiny as if the rest existed solely to provide a scenic backdrop.
By October, the preseason poll looked less like a prediction and more like a clay tablet dug up in Mesopotamia that was intriguing, irrelevant, and written by people who clearly had no clue what was coming.
By December, it was performance art.
By January, it was a fairy tale.
The preseason poll didn’t just miss; it whiffed so dramatically it reads like satire.
However, that is the beauty of college football.
It promises certainty and delivers chaos. It sells inevitability and hands you a plot twist. It gives you a preseason poll in August and a national championship in January that makes you wonder if the entire enterprise is held together by blind optimism, White Out mysticism, and the annual ritual of pretending the schedule is “favorable.”
The legion of credentialed blueblood writers and podcasters fumbled, while the playoff committee continues to pretend it understands its own convoluted criteria.
In a most poetic twist worthy of Shakespeare, two teams nobody ranked and everyone dismissed as “rebuilding” will square off for the national championship Monday night.
This improbable game feels like the sport is pulling a prank just to see if you will still tune in.