The Blame Game

Don’t let it be said that the Tennessee Vols have only themselves to blame for last Saturday’s debacle in the Georgia Dome. And having not said that, don’t say it wasn’t the Vols’ fault. It’s a measure of the cockamamied state of college football this week that Tennessee is simultaneously a victim and a perpetrator—just like the other rejected contenders for the mythical national championship.

Round up the usual suspects, and you may determine that all of them did it and none of them did it. Consider the evidence for yourself.

Tennessee, of course, unquestionably has blood (mostly their own) on their hands. Look just about anywhere on the Georgia Dome field, and you can find enough coulda/shoulda/wouldas to create your own Top 10 list:

1. Phil Fulmer’s team looked tentative and unready—like a team that was playing not to lose.

2. Two disastrous, drive-killing fumbles.

3. Three ignorant penalties that sustained LSU’s first touchdown drive.

4. Seven other equally boneheaded infractions—particularly an intentional grounding by QB Casey Clausen as the Vols threatened to go up by two touchdowns.

5. A busted play on fourth-and-one.

6. The Orange’s failure to reach the end zone after a first-and-goal at the LSU four; a TD would have tied the game.

7. A team-wide brain lock that appeared to set in after the Vols went up 17-7 and LSU’s starting quarterback and running back went down.

8. Three potential interceptions dropped by the UT secondary. One of them, on LSU’s final scoring drive, would almost certainly have resulted in a Tennessee TD.

9. Only 14 piddly stabs for Tennessee’s dagger, Travis Stephens. Credit LSU’s defense for stuffing the run early. Discredit the Vol braintrust for giving up after that.

10. The Vols averaged 6.3 yards per play but scored only 20 points. What’s wrong with that picture?

Still, for all the self-flagellation that the Vols are deservedly in for, a few other fingers (we won’t say which ones) are worth pointing, too. For starters, how about a big one at the Southeastern Conference?

In a grab for more clout, more exposure and, most of all, mo’ money, the SEC expanded to 12 teams. Having 12 far-flung teams meant the league had to re-organize itself, like the Roman Empire, into eastern and western divisions. Having two divisions meant staging a championship game—which, as the Athletic Director and SEC Commissioner’s Office Geniuses envisioned it, would produce even mo’money.

And having a championship game meant that the league would have to place its national title contender at risk. In effect, Tennessee was penalized by having to prove themselves in an extra game that all but one of the other major-conference champions doesn’t have to play.

Not only that: The SEC championship placed the Vols in the difficult position of having to get up for a team they had defeated earlier in the season. It was a mismatched matchup from the beginning. Tennessee had everything to lose; LSU had nothing to lose.

You could do worse than to bet consistently on the “nothing-to-losers.” Stuff just happens. Ask Texas, which right now shares the same miserable boat with the Volunteers.

The Longhorns, too, were dreaming of a Rose Bowl spot. But, because of the Big 12’s divisional format, they had to replay Colorado, whom they had already trampled by 34 points. Guess which team played tentatively, made uncharacteristic mistakes and blew its chances for greater glory?

Not coincidentally, Pac-10 champion Oregon—a 10-1 team that is probably not better than Tennessee or Texas, arguably not as good, but definitely did not have to play an extra game within its very competitive league—finished well ahead of both in the final BCS standings.

For that matter, and you may have to take off your shoes to cipher this one, Florida finished ahead of the Vols in the BCS tally. So 9-2 Florida, of course, gets to play in the Orange Bowl, one of the BCS games, while 10-2 Tennessee, which beat Florida, is left out in the relative cold of the Citrus Bowl.

That brings us to the other hiney that needs kicking this week, the Bowl Championship Series. (Note to irate Vol fans: Please take a number; a bunch of other would-be kickers are in line ahead of you.)

By the BCS’ tortured reckoning, not only are the Gators better than the Vols, the country’s eighth- and tenth-best teams—Illinois and Maryland—are worthy of better bowls than sixth-ranked Tennessee. Why? Because the ACC and Big Ten (which, with 11 members, wisely stops one team short of having to set up divisions and its own title game) made sure their leagues’ champions were locked into a BCS bowl.

Meanwhile, Nebraska, which didn’t even win its own division, much less its own conference, will play for the national crown in the Rose Bowl. Why? Because they didn’t have to play an extra game either, so they moved up in the standings when higher ranked Tennessee, Texas and Oklahoma all unexpectedly faltered.