College football chaos is here. And it's Gotham City.

College Football Is Gotham City

College football feels like living in Gotham City on its worst day. The chaos. The villains. The constant sense that something’s about to blow up. I always said if I lived in Gotham when things got bad, I’d leave. The Joker’s out there. The Riddler’s playing games. You know it’s going to get worse. Why stick around?

But I also get the appeal. If you could watch the Joker from a safe distance — knowing nothing bad would happen to you — you’d watch. You’d have to.

That’s college football now.

College Football Chaos | The System Is Cooked

Let’s just look at early 2026.

A quarterback at Washington signs a $4 million NIL deal. Days later, he wants out — because someone else offered more. The university refuses to release him into the portal. They threaten legal action. A few days after that, he announces he’s staying. Back to Washington. Crisis averted, apparently. Who was right? Who would’ve won in court? Doesn’t matter. That’s the point. A few million dollars, a few legal threats, a few days of chaos — and we’re back to normal. Except none of this is normal. This is college football now.

Meanwhile, Indiana’s roster has an average age of 23. The Green Bay Packers’ average age is 25. Mark Ingram put it plainly — he was in his third year in the NFL at 23. We’ve got 7th-year seniors lining up against 18-year-old freshmen. This isn’t player development anymore. It’s roster assembly.

More than 4,500 players entered the transfer portal this year. That’s roughly 25-30% of all scholarship athletes. Coaches have said it out loud: there’s no loyalty on either side. Everything is transactional. If there are no guardrails, the sport will eat itself. These aren’t hot takes. These are the people running the programs.

The calendar is a disaster. Indiana wins the Rose Bowl, lands in Bloomington at 3:30 in the morning. The portal opens at midnight. Before his players wake up, Curt Cignetti is in the office meeting with recruits about next season. Ole Miss beats Georgia in the Sugar Bowl. Thirty minutes later, fans are wondering if their coaches are leaving for LSU. Spoiler: some of them did.

High school kids are skipping prom to enroll early, hoping to secure a roster spot — only to watch coaches recruit over them with portal transfers before spring ball even starts. Academic advisors are being asked to hold 70 class spots for players who haven’t committed yet. Faculty are letting kids into courses three weeks late, knowing they’re being set up to fail.

And then there’s the money.

Mark Cuban gave Indiana a “big number” last year after their 11-2 season. This year, after an undefeated run to the playoff semifinals, he gave again. His words: “Let’s just say they are happier this year than last year.” Indiana immediately landed some of the top players in the portal. Billionaires are now funding roster construction. The rich programs get richer. Everyone else gets raided.

That’s Gotham.

What Winning Actually Gives You

Less than 12 months ago, my team won a national championship.

Very cool. Sure. I watched. I celebrated. I talked to my dad, my brother, my son. That’s the part that mattered — the people, the moment, sports doing what sports are supposed to do.

But then… that was it.

Nothing changed. I didn’t need more gear. I didn’t need to tell everyone. I didn’t walk around differently. The win happened. It was fun. And then life continued exactly as before.

So when people say “championship or bust,” I wonder — what exactly are we chasing? Even when you win, you wake up the next day the same person. The title doesn’t fix anything. It’s a moment. A good one. But just a moment.

And then you’re right back in Gotham, watching the next building catch fire.

You Don’t Have to Leave

Most people won’t leave Gotham. That’s fine. The games are still entertaining. The moments still hit. The tradition — whatever’s left of it — still means something to a lot of people.

But something’s shifting.

More fans are watching on delay. Catching highlights instead of four-hour broadcasts. Skipping games that don’t matter to them. Finding out results the next morning and shrugging.

Georgia played on New Year’s Day. A lot of people probably skipped it for family stuff and caught the highlights the next morning. The result still landed. The four-hour commitment didn’t.

The all-in, appointment-viewing, emotionally invested version of fandom is getting harder to sustain when the product keeps changing, and the system keeps asking for more.

Some people will keep watching every snap. Some will check out entirely. Most will land somewhere in between — still engaged, but a little more guarded. A little less willing to let a Tuesday portal announcement ruin their week.

That’s not advice. That’s just what happens when you see the game for what it is.

Know Where You Are

College football is chaos. That’s not changing. The incentives are broken. The people running it are making it up as they go. The fans are caught between loving the game and hating what it’s become.

The system isn’t built for fans. It’s built for TV contracts, conference realignment, NIL collectives, and whoever can write the biggest check. The emotional investment gets monetized. The loyalty runs one direction.

None of that means you can’t enjoy it. A game can still be great. A moment can still matter. Sports can still bring people together — that part’s real.

But Gotham is Gotham.

The Joker might blow up the bridge. The Riddler’s leaving clues that don’t add up. And if you’re paying attention, you can see the whole thing for what it is — chaotic, entertaining, broken.

That’s Gotham. That’s college football.

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