College football is set for a massive structural change as the College Football Playoff prepares to expand to 24 teams. This shift, beginning in 2027, marks a significant departure from the traditional model that once made regular-season Saturdays feel inherently meaningful. By inflating the postseason, the sport is entering a phase characterized by systemic bloat, drawing comparisons to the insatiable gluttony of the character Violet Beauregarde from “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” Like all of a few months ago, when college football mastered the art of the regular season and college hoops solved the conundrum of the postseason, there was a time. And – even if it was an imperfect split – both got something right, the magnitude of fall football Saturdays gave way to the madness of March. College athletics officially enters its Violet Beauregarde stage, engorged by gluttony just like the famed character from “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” who essentially turned herself into a human blueberry, with the announcement that the College Football Playoff will expand to 24 teams. Squeezing her back to form, though leaving her permanently blue, the Oompa Loompas eventually rolled poor Violet into the juicing room. It is permanently bloated almost beyond recognition. What will it really matter come March.
The expansion ensures that a total of 100 Division I teams—24 in football and 76 in basketball—will secure postseason berths starting in 2027. Critics suggest this move caters to a generation accustomed to the “everyone gets a trophy” mentality, potentially diluting the value of postseason participation. Coaches now stand to earn bonus payouts for guiding teams into expanded, less exclusive brackets. Only one ends up happy at the end, whether the brackets include 24 teams or 76.
This transition threatens the urgency that defined past seasons. For instance, recent high-stakes matchups like Alabama’s victory over LSU and Utah’s win in the Holy War might carry less weight in the future. With more spots available, multi-loss teams could frequently find themselves in playoff contention, reducing the gravity of early-season losses that once could derail a championship run. This mirrors issues seen in college basketball, where early-season games often lack stakes despite efforts to improve scheduling quality. Next year, both likely survive for the first-round games between multi-loss teams that we once might have simply called the Poulan Weed-Eater Bowl. But Virginia’s 19-point drubbing of Arkansas in November is the sports equivalent of a tree falling in the woods with no one around to hear it, good teams are doing a much better job of playing good teams early. This spring, the beautiful basketball bracket will become but a bastardized version of itself. Similarly, middling power conference teams, given all of the resources and opportunities available but unable to win actual games, will instead be gifted a ticket to the ball.
Financial incentives appear to be the primary driver behind these changes. Reports indicate the expanded football playoff will generate at least $300 million in additional revenue, while the NCAA college basketball tournament is expected to bring in another $50 million. These power brokers, including conference commissioners, university presidents, and television executives, are structuring a model that favors revenue hoarding over broad distribution. The new football model guarantees four spots for Power 4 teams, while limiting the Group of Six to only one. Believe it or not, revenue, and this is a way to not merely generate more of it, but to ensure that it is properly distributed, revenue sharing requires. University presidents, athletic directors, TV executives whose eyes cartoonishly pop like Scrooge McDuck’s with slot machine dollar signs, and the NCAA administrators who preferred the ostrich approach to an incoming earthquake – have crafted a model where the revenue is not shared; it is simply hoarded, the power brokers – the conference commissioners. Allegedly, will continue its meritocracy approach but anyone who thinks the Southern Conference is getting an extra bid over the SEC hasn’t been paying attention, the NCAA Tournament.
The impact on the NCAA Tournament is also expected to be profound. While the organization claims to maintain a merit-based approach, historical data suggests the largest conferences remain the primary beneficiaries. Last year, the ACC, Big Ten, Big 12, and SEC captured 31 of the 37 at-large bids, signaling a trend where the wealthy athletic programs only stand to gain more influence. This economic cycle forces fans to shoulder the burden of rising costs for tickets, parking, and travel to fund the increasingly expensive pursuit of championships.
Despite the criticism, industry leaders assume that fans will continue to engage, even if reluctantly.
Informal feedback from long-time supporters suggests a conflicted outlook: while many oppose the expansion, they remain likely to tune in or attend if their teams participate. However, this raises long-term questions about fan retention and the diminishing returns of a postseason that prioritizes quantity over quality. Ultimately, regardless of the size of the bracket, only one champion can emerge, leaving the effectiveness of these expensive adjustments in doubt. Meanwhile, Cinderella sits outside barefoot, wondering about the frauds scurrying around in their Manolo Blahniks. This is not about expansion for the everyman and everywoman, the betterment of the game or a more engaging postseason, because to be clear. Pure and simple, it is about money. The scales always tip in their favor and – when they don’t – a well-placed elbow can ensure that they do.
