Everyone wants to ditch BCS, but here's the reality

	Chris Leak and the Gators earned a spot in the national-title game against Ohio State, but it wasn't without controversy. Bob Rosato/SI
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Some people dread tax day in April. Others loathe their annual visit to the dentist. Me? Having experienced nine of them, I can safely say my least favorite day of the year is the Monday after the BCS and other bowl pairings are announced.

While the exact nature of the controversy changes from year to year, the reaction is more predictable than The Real World's casting methods. Sports columnists who haven't written about college football all year will suddenly come out of the woodwork to proffer their annual "Scrap the BCS" diatribe. Coaches from the teams that got shafted will rant about the unfairness of the system (many of them are the same coaches who, two years earlier, when their team wasn't that good, were saying what a "great reward" it was to play in the Sun Bowl). And worked-up fans will flood my inbox with their thoughtful but not-exactly-original proposals for how a college playoff would work.

It's not that I don't share in everybody's frustration with the status quo (though I'm certainly not a hardcore playoff proponent) or empathize with your desire for change -- it's just that I don't live in fantasy land. Having covered this mess inside and out, I can tell you that all the crying and screaming in the world isn't going to bring about a playoff any sooner. For all the various absurdities the BCS' first eight years brought, the only real change to the system has been to add another BCS game (and of course bowls in Toronto and Albuquerque). I highly doubt Steve Spurrier's admission he voted Florida No. 2 because, "Heck, I'm a Gator" is going to suddenly break the dam.

But I'm also aware that no one within the sport has ever bothered to give the general public an honest, objective explanation as to why these things are the way they are. I can imagine most fans hear coaches, writers and TV commentators crying for a playoff and wonder, "Well ... what's stopping them?"

If only it were that simple.

For the past year and a half, I've been working on a book that will be published next September about the inherent chaos of college football. Half serious, half satirical (kind of like the Mailbag), each chapter addresses a different hot-button topic in the sport today and explains the various political, economic and other forces driving them. As you can probably guess, the BCS is Chapter 1.

If I could sum up the BCS/playoff conundrum using a real-life analogy, it would be this:

Let's say you work in an office and you come into work on Monday to find that the copier has died. There would seem to be one clear, obvious solution to this problem: Replace the copier. After discussing the matter with several of your co-workers, they're all in agreement: the copier is broken and it needs to be replaced. You bring this up to your office manager, and she also agrees that, yes, something needs to be done about the broken copier.

Three weeks later, you walk into work and the same, non-functioning copier is sitting right where you left it. Why? Because your office manager needs clearance from her supervisor before making such a major purchase. And while the supervisor shares everyone's concerns about the copier, he's facing pressure from his supervisor to reduce spending in the office and is going to need a thorough review of company copying needs before determining whether a new copier is truly the best course of action. Finally, your office has a longstanding relationship with Kinko's, and Kinko's has been reminding your boss on a weekly basis how loyal it's been to your company over the years and how it hopes you will keep that in mind when making any future copying decisions.

The end result of all this is that, while nearly everyone involved agrees that something should be done about the broken copier, it will wind up staying there for the conceivable future.

The broken copier represents the BCS.

You and your co-workers represent the vast majority of college football fans and coaches who feel that replacing the current system with a playoff should be a no-brainer.

The office manager represents college athletic directors, who, while firmly in control of their own domains, are largely powerless to make changes to the broader sport.