The golden age of college football is slipping through the fingers of traditionalists like sand in a storm. The soul of the sport—its sacred rivalries, regional pride, and century-old pageantry—is under siege. In its place, a slick, profit-driven machine churns ever forward, powered by the roaring engines of NIL money, the chaotic swirl of the transfer portal, and now, the seismic tremors of conference realignment. Among the latest casualties? The iconic Notre Dame–USC rivalry—a cornerstone of American college football, now teetering on the brink of extinction. And caught in the crosshairs? Marcus Freeman, Notre Dame’s rising head coach, who suddenly finds himself navigating a maelstrom not of his own making.
It all began when USC’s President Carol Folt pulled the trigger that sent shockwaves through the sport: a bold, calculated departure from the Pac-12 to the money-flushed Big Ten. Her move wasn’t just about competition—it was about cash. Cold, hard, $63 million-a-year Big Ten Network revenue cash. In doing so, USC not only redefined its future but, perhaps unknowingly, rewrote Notre Dame’s. What was once a guaranteed annual clash—an unmissable, spine-tingling rivalry for the Jeweled Shillelagh—is now potentially headed for the vault of forgotten traditions.
USC and Notre Dame have faced off since 1926—95 battles steeped in blood, grit, and legend. A rivalry that stood the test of time, even through world wars and cultural upheavals, now finds itself derailed by the almighty dollar. The latest reports suggest that the 2025 game may be the last foreseeable meeting between the Trojans and the Irish. No handshake deal. No verbal agreement. No lifeline. Just silence, disappointment, and questions.
So why now?
On the “Get Ba-l See Ba-l” podcast, co-host Brent Rollins laid it bare. “This doesn’t shock me,” he said, resigned. “USC is in the Big Ten now. They’re not prioritizing the Notre Dame game anymore because they don’t need the extra risk. It’s another potential loss in an already brutal schedule. Notre Dame, though—they need it. That rivalry gave them national relevance on an independent schedule.”
It’s a gut punch for Marcus Freeman, whose team relies on marquee matchups like USC to impress the College Football Playoff committee. As an independent, Notre Dame doesn’t get the luxury of a conference championship to bolster their postseason resume. Games like USC? They’re everything.
In a last-ditch effort, Notre Dame reportedly offered to keep the rivalry alive at least through 2026 while they hashed out the logistics. USC declined. The message was unmistakable: tradition is expendable, especially when it threatens the bottom line.
Freeman now faces a growing crisis. While coaching expectations in South Bend remain sky-high, his scheduling arsenal is being stripped. And it’s not just about nostalgia—it’s about playoff positioning, national perception, and recruiting leverage. A weakened schedule could mean fewer primetime slots, less exposure, and more questions from top-tier recruits wondering where Notre Dame fits in this evolving power structure.
David Pollack, speaking alongside Rollins, echoed the sentiment—and the heartbreak. “We’re losing everything we grew up loving,” he lamented. “Bedlam’s gone. Colorado-Nebraska is shaky. Florida-Miami is in limbo. And now this. That’s the price of ‘progress’ in today’s college football economy.”
Let’s not kid ourselves—this isn’t just a Notre Dame problem. It’s a nationwide epidemic. Schools are uprooting historic rivalries like old shrubs in favor of television contracts and coast-to-coast matchups. Regional identity is evaporating. Fan traditions are being bulldozed. All for what? A seat at the mega-money table.
Still, Notre Dame’s independence—a cherished badge of honor—is now under greater scrutiny. With no conference to protect them and fewer elite opponents available, the Irish may finally be forced to consider assimilation. Will this be the moment that nudges the golden-domed program into the arms of a Power Five home?
As for USC, the question lingers: will their $63 million annual boost be worth the cultural collateral damage? The fan base is already grumbling. Even Lincoln Riley expressed frustration over losing the rivalry, signaling this wasn’t purely a coaching decision.
For now, Marcus Freeman is left to pick up the pieces, recalibrate his schedule, and find new marquee opponents to keep Notre Dame’s playoff hopes alive. But make no mistake—this isn’t just a scheduling hiccup. It’s a seismic warning shot that tradition alone can’t protect you anymore in the new college football arms race.
One thing’s for sure: if the Jeweled Shillelagh does gather dust in 2026, it won’t just be a trophy sitting still—it’ll be a symbol of what college football has lost chasing billions.
