The Big Ten and SEC Are Out of Their Mind with Whacky Playoff Format Proposal
College football fans were still adjusting to the 12-team playoff format when news broke that the College Football Playoff (CFP) might soon expand to 16 teams. But the real shock wasn’t just the size of the field—it was the structure proposed by the sport’s two biggest power brokers: the Big Ten and the SEC. In a move that raised eyebrows from coast to coast, the conferences released a joint proposal that critics say would effectively give them complete control over college football’s postseason.
According to sources close to the negotiations, the Big Ten and SEC want automatic bids for the top six teams from each of their conferences, regardless of national rankings. That’s twelve of the sixteen playoff spots reserved for just two leagues. The remaining four slots? Left for the rest of the country—ACC, Big 12, Group of Five, and independents like Notre Dame—to fight over. It’s a power play so brazen that even seasoned insiders were stunned.
Under this “Whacky Format,” as it’s being dubbed by fans and media alike, traditional concepts like national parity, regional balance, and conference equality would be thrown out the window. Imagine a 9-3 SEC team earning a higher seed than an undefeated AAC champion or a Pac-12 revival squad with a Heisman-winning quarterback left out entirely. That’s the reality this format could produce.
Big Ten Commissioner Tony Petitti and SEC Commissioner Greg Sankey argue that their conferences consistently produce the best teams and generate the most revenue, so the playoff should reflect that reality. “We’re protecting the integrity and quality of the postseason,” Sankey said in a press release. But critics say it’s a naked money grab and a blatant consolidation of power.
The proposed format has drawn backlash from across the college football landscape. ACC officials have called it “a betrayal of the sport’s tradition,” and Big 12 Commissioner Brett Yormark labeled it “a hostile takeover attempt.” Even coaches and athletic directors from within the Big Ten and SEC are reportedly uneasy about the public optics.
At the heart of this chaos lies a fundamental question: Who owns college football? Is it a national game with regional flavor, or has it become a duopoly controlled by two super-conferences willing to bulldoze tradition in favor of television ratings and sponsorship dollars?
If this proposal becomes reality, the playoff might resemble more of an invitational exhibition than a legitimate national championship tournament. Lawsuits, NCAA intervention, or even federal antitrust scrutiny could be on the horizon if the format is rammed through without broader consensus.
As the sport teeters on the edge of another seismic shift, fans are left to wonder: Is more always better? Expansion should mean more opportunity and fairness—not more exclusion. And if the Big Ten and SEC get their way, college football’s beloved chaos may be replaced by something far more predictable—and far less democratic.
