If college football coaches can put their careers ahead of programs by bypassing bowl games, which at least four have done this postseason, then nobody can blame players for skipping the same event for similar reasons.
If college football coaches can put their careers ahead of programs by bypassing bowl games, which at least four have done this postseason, then nobody can blame players for skipping the same event for similar reasons.
They are just as entitled. So America understands the decisions of Stanford’s Christian McCaffrey and LSU’s Leonard Fournette to skip the Sun Bowl and Buffalo Wild Wings Bowl, respectively, to preserve their health for the NFL draft.
But congratulate them? I’ll hold my applause.
Make no mistake, just like the coaches whose premature exits preceded them, the players acted selfishly. Selfish: Adj. Concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself … without regard for others. Thank you, Merriam-Webster.
That’s not criticizing McCaffrey or Fournette as much as acknowledging reality that society is more willing than ever to accept from businessmen disguised as college athletes. Football’s well-documented dangers help prevent the court of public opinion from coming down hard on the running backs. Heck, a majority probably even favors them.
But populists need to be honest interpreting this: McCaffrey and Fournette quit on their schools and teammates. Their decisions betray any ideal of commitment. Dress it up and defend the reasons, but they quit. Period. Their actions, justifiable or not, contradict everything kids ever learn about putting the team first and finishing what they started. If coaches like Tom Herman, who left Houston for Texas before the Las Vegas Bowl, are opportunists, then McCaffrey and Fournette deserve the same label. What’s next, a projected first-round starting quarterback quitting after his team’s second loss in September knocks it from playoff consideration?
This move was right for Fournette and McCaffrey. It isn’t for everybody. It isn’t always about the NFL.
As someone who still cherishes the memory of playing in the 1989 California Raisin Bowl for Ball State, I view the bowl experience through the same prism as so many college football players who aren’t counting the days until the NFL draft. Bowl games like the now-defunct Raisin Bowl mean nothing in terms of standings or rankings or championships. Yet they can mean everything in the context of fulfilling all that a college scholarship promised. It’s a dated concept, sure, but not a dead one. It represents the rule in college football more than the exceptions we spend our days tweeting and talking and writing about constantly.
Former Notre Dame linebacker Jaylon Smith, now a Cowboys rookie, understands. Smith tweeted: “Honestly, with everything I’ve been through, if I could go back to Jan. 1, I’d play again.” Estimates suggest Smith lost as much as $19 million dropping in the draft due to an injury suffered in the Fiesta Bowl. The meaningless, non-playoff Fiesta Bowl.
I get the marketplace realities, even if I suspect there are more players like Smith than Fournette or McCaffrey. I even agree with those who have claimed (ad nauseam) the proliferation of bowl games has diluted their value. I understand why Fournette and McCaffrey did what they did in a college sports world polluted by profiteers. I realize how defensible their argument is and how negligible the decisions will be for NFL teams who like what they see of the running backs on film.
I still can hate it.