By F. Walt Museli

The college football season has ended once again on an impossible Gordian knot of identical records and conference ouroboros victories and fanbases are howling about exclusion. And what do the football honchos do? They turn to the same group of deluded, simple animals who have never been able in their history to solve this intractable problem — that’s right I am talking about human beings, in all their primitive, simian ignorance, who have no business settling the matter of National Football Championships. That’s why the only solution is to bring back the BCS computers, larger and more powerful than anyone could have envisioned in 1998.

Yes, there were some problems with the BCS system. The main one was that the pure computer rankings, formulas and algorithms that reached far beyond the imagination of people influenced by recency bias and potential television rankings and people calling into sports radio shows to scream about their teams while constantly tearing their shirts off, were tainted by the inclusion of human polls. The solution is obvious: to purge the BCS system of these cretinous human polls and turn them over exclusively to larger, more powerful BCS computers that will determine championships so authoritative that no one will dare challenge them or write newspaper columns alleging that people who prefer computer rankings do not understand football and live in their mothers’ basements while it is empirical fact that it was just a temporary arrangement.

Imagine entire banks of gleaming, whirring BCS computers churning out endless reams of rankings in real time. These machines would transcend the minuscule limits of the human imagination to project every football variable: team tendencies, probabilities of success, weather, referee effectiveness, and the precise shade of red that a holding penalty will turn Brian Kelly’s face in the midst of an apoplectic, jowly sideline rage fugue.

The BCS computers can project a near-infinite spectrum of college football outcomes simultaneously freed from myopic constraints of space-time or whether or not the Big Ten can compete with SEC speed. They can instantaneously conjure millions of alternate configurations from the history of football assessing the rise of different football powers, effects of heretofore unknown global conflagrations on recruiting, and unrecognizable hypothetical football universes where Purdue becomes a football power and forces other teams to join, becoming a blob of train-worshiping fanatics swallowing up every football program in the midwest, its terrifying whistle signaling its approach to towns that forces their most hard-nosed fullbacks and beefiest linemen to flee to the Rockies. Can Barry Alvarez do that? No, all he can do is swagger around coaching bowl games instead of building thirteen million virtual frameworks a second to accurately weight the exact meaning of a nonconference win against Kent State, that sad sack of blood and organs.

Soon, we won’t need players or stadiums or the NCAA at all as city blocks full of computers project endless reams of rankings for all potential football games. We won’t have a human coach punting on fourth and short because his BCS computer athletic director will understand the punting algorithm as will the computer-generated fans generating millions of identical posts on virtual message boards in agreement and the virtual boosters ordering an infinite number of airplanes with banners saying “the coach is objectively correct” to darken the skies over tailgates. Let Kirk Ferentz try to rewrite that punting software and he’ll be torn asunder by the BCS computers’ metallic claws. After another year of endless bluster and unaccountability, this is the only way forward to crown a true football champion.