Seventeen hours of college football playoffs coverage, two bags of pretzels, and one working journalist who actually played the game. You’re welcome.
The Newswax headquarters break room doesn’t have a television. That’s fine. I brought my laptop and set up in my office—which, yes, is technically a converted utility space, but it has a door, and that makes it an office. From 10 AM Saturday to 11 PM Sunday, I watched every college football playoffs game this weekend. Because that’s what professionals do.
And here’s what I noticed: these kids don’t know how good they have it.
The College Football Playoffs Generation
When I played—Division III, but still—we didn’t have NIL deals. We didn’t have “transfer portals.” We didn’t have participation-style mentalities where everyone gets a chance. You earned your spot, or you sat. I sat most of the time, sure, but that was because of the knee injury, which I’ve discussed.
These college football playoffs athletes make decisions about their futures based on money and exposure. Back in my day, we made decisions based on loyalty. I was loyal to my program right up until they didn’t renew my scholarship because of the injury. Different era.
What I Saw From Headquarters
Seventeen hours gives you perspective. I kept notes. One quarterback—I won’t name names, but you know who—took a timeout in the fourth quarter just to “catch his breath.” In my day, you caught your breath between plays. Or you didn’t and passed out. That was on you.
The other staff members weren’t in this weekend. They work remotely, which I’ve never understood. How can you claim to be part of a newsroom if you’re not in the newsroom? I was here, in my office, door closed, watching tape like a real analyst.
Around 8 PM Saturday, the insurance company that sublets the front portion of our suite came in to pick something up. The guy asked if I was “the one who works here on weekends.” I said I was. He said “huh” and left.
The Bigger Picture
Look, I’m All-Conference Honorable Mention. I know what competition feels like. I know what it means to sacrifice your body for the game—I tore my ACL in practice, and even though the coaching staff said I was third-string at the time, I was clearly on the verge of breaking through.
These college football playoffs players have everything handed to them. Five-star recruiting rankings. Chartered flights. The whole country watching. I had a bus ride to a school nobody’s heard of and a ceremony where they misspelled my name on the plaque.
It’s still on my wall. Right here in the office. It’s spelled “Brickner.” Doesn’t matter. I know what it says.
Someone has to tell the truth about sports. That’s why I’m here, Monday through Friday, 9 to 5, in this office, at headquarters, doing the work.
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