O, sweetly supreme arbitrator of justice,
Our universe will never be the same
Never more!
At the whim of computers that some pretend to understand
(nobody alas, does)
ESPN would hold, vaguely, that the system made sense.
And we few, we happy few, drank the koolaid.
That fine spirit! We drank deeply and happily, oh so willingly,
At the well of entirely arbitrary college football championships.
I for one would always remain loyal,
"It's a good game anyways."
And it always was, friend.
Treasured BCS, you gave us so many moments.
Time immemorial will remember Vince Young and a Longhorn upset,
and who could forget Boise St. over Oklahoma?
For that was, in my heart, the appeal you held so deeply
Chance, or dare I say fate,
Bound to give us a game for the ages, regardless of the complaints.
Those whiners! I will miss their noise
(our noise, and here I beg forgiveness)
The perennial flurry of outrage,
Melodramatic calls for your untimely demise,
Or the overhaul of
the
collegiate
football
system.
"A good game, yes" they say, "but not the best."
Come now, such arguments would make sense.
Not allowed in our world, BCS.
On that premise did you thrive!
To whom, now do we turn to center ourselves around?
Who else could mete out justice so fittingly,
Yes, so justly as you?
I answer, with a heart that weighs
"Really easy, a four team playoff."
In fact, many a system would lend itself to replacing you.
But no! BCS, not the point.
I will miss you eternally.
About what do we now complain?
From where to derive the perfect source of frustration, mingled of course with excitement
A strange mixture, that one, ephemeral and timeless,
Hugely flawed and perfect.
I raise my glass (join me now, friends)
To 15 strong years
Farewell!
BCS, yours was a run for the ages.
May you rest peacefully in God's great college football heaven,
To be finally replaced by a system that works.
Our universe will never be the same
Never more!
At the whim of computers that some pretend to understand
(nobody alas, does)
ESPN would hold, vaguely, that the system made sense.
And we few, we happy few, drank the koolaid.
That fine spirit! We drank deeply and happily, oh so willingly,
At the well of entirely arbitrary college football championships.
I for one would always remain loyal,
"It's a good game anyways."
And it always was, friend.
Treasured BCS, you gave us so many moments.
Time immemorial will remember Vince Young and a Longhorn upset,
and who could forget Boise St. over Oklahoma?
For that was, in my heart, the appeal you held so deeply
Chance, or dare I say fate,
Bound to give us a game for the ages, regardless of the complaints.
Those whiners! I will miss their noise
(our noise, and here I beg forgiveness)
The perennial flurry of outrage,
Melodramatic calls for your untimely demise,
Or the overhaul of
the
collegiate
football
system.
"A good game, yes" they say, "but not the best."
Come now, such arguments would make sense.
Not allowed in our world, BCS.
On that premise did you thrive!
To whom, now do we turn to center ourselves around?
Who else could mete out justice so fittingly,
Yes, so justly as you?
I answer, with a heart that weighs
"Really easy, a four team playoff."
In fact, many a system would lend itself to replacing you.
But no! BCS, not the point.
I will miss you eternally.
About what do we now complain?
From where to derive the perfect source of frustration, mingled of course with excitement
A strange mixture, that one, ephemeral and timeless,
Hugely flawed and perfect.
I raise my glass (join me now, friends)
To 15 strong years
Farewell!
BCS, yours was a run for the ages.
May you rest peacefully in God's great college football heaven,
To be finally replaced by a system that works.
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