Written by Rodger Sherman at The Ringer.com
There was no drama in the College Football Playoff semifinals on New Year’s Eve.
No. 1 Alabama did to no. 4 Washington what we expected, the football equivalent of an actual elephant fighting an actual husky. Washington raced out to a 7–0 lead, much like Florida raced out to a 7–0 lead on Alabama in the SEC championship game on December 3. The Gators lost that contest 54–16. The Huskies dropped this one 24–7, crossing midfield only twice as Alabama’s defense slowly suffocated them. Watching Bama is like watching a nature documentary. The Crimson Tide destroy their competition in a horrible way, and while it’s disconcerting for us to watch, it’s perfectly normal for them. (If I ever see a nature documentary that features an elephant fighting a husky, I will turn it off so quickly.)
No. 2 Clemson did something to no. 3 Ohio State that we didn’t quite expect: The Tigers rolled 31–0, the first time the Buckeyes have been shut out in more than 20 years. This was supposed to be the competitive semifinal matchup. Instead, it let college football fans dip out to parties with a few hours to spare before the ball dropped.
This brings us back to where we started. Bama and Clemson met in last January’s thrilling title game, when Tigers quarterback Deshaun Watson threw for 405 yards and ran for 73 more, but the Crimson Tide won 45–40 after using a brilliant onside kick to gain an extra possession. Alabama was crowned the champion, but Clemson made the Tide seem tantalizingly mortal. Alabama hasn’t lost since, and honestly, it hasn’t even come close to losing, unless you count a quickly squashed scare against Ole Miss in September. And so this works out perfectly: The rare team that made Bama bleed will get a second shot.
But second shots aren’t supposed to happen in college football. This sport has had dynasties, but seldom do two powerhouses concurrently reel off back-to-back top-notch seasons. Other sports have temporal rivalries, matchups between teams that call to mind a specific era. In basketball, Bulls-Jazz was part of the fabric of the 1990s, just as Warriors-Cavs is part of the fabric of this decade. College football programs have permanent rivals, the ones they play every year at the same time — hate week — and make gatherings with family from the other side of the state awkward. But those matchups don’t happen in the national championship game. At the end of the year, a team gets plopped in a bowl against X school from Y conference, an opponent whose games fans have possibly seen on TV.
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