Musings from Arledge: Oregon and the Big Ten

I apologize for being lazy with my Musings in recent months. It’s always hard during the off-season, and it’s especially difficult since I’ve been in trial for over two months now. 

So in the meantime, I’ve decided to start putting the script of my monologue from the previous week’s program here for those who haven’t been able to watch the show. I may add some of the older ones in the coming weeks, also.

So, here you go, and I hope you enjoy:

In the Three Amigos, Chevy Chase, Steve Martin, and Martin Short are talking to the head of the movie studio about their next project, and Steve Martin jumps in to handle the negotiations for the group. Martin starts his speech with a lot of bluster. He assumes that the Amigos are big stars and very important. He’s going to demand big money. By the end of the discussion, the studio has taken the Amigos’ clothes, their house, their jobs, and has thrown them out on the street. It’s a funny scene.

That’s Oregon football today. They thought they were stars. They walk in with a lot of bluster. Then they got their dressing down from USC, UCLA, and the bluebloods that run the Big Ten. Now they’re not sure they even have jobs. That was also a funny scene.

But, my fellow Trojans, this is not a time for gloating. No. This is a time for compassion. It’s the time to be a good friend. So I have a message for my friends from Oregon. 

Listen, Ducks, I know you’re hurting right now. You’re discovering that you’re not nearly as important or wanted as you thought you were. You’re discovering that you’re exactly what I’ve been telling you you are for quite some time.

And I know that truth hurts.

But this is an opportunity. A chance to grow. You can learn a lot from a good dose of reality. And you can start to make some changes. I don’t mean uniform changes. That’s your solution to everything. I’m talking about real changes, changes that can make you better. Better people. A better program. Changes that can get you where you want to be. And, spoiler alert, I truly believe everything is going to be alright for you in the end. 

But first let’s start with the reality of the present. 

Oregon, you are a solid second-tier program. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. For most of your history, you weren’t close to being a second-tier program. But Uncle Phil’s money has brought you to that point. You’re a solid opening act, that decent band that comes on right before the headliners.

The problem right now is that you thought you were more than that. You thought you were headliners. You thought you were elite. A blueblood. In the same class as USC, Notre Dame, Alabama, Ohio State, Oklahoma. 

But this conference expansion business is based on reality, on dollars and cents, not Nike’s marketing money, and with hundreds of millions of dollars are on the line, when serious people have to make serious decisions, it turns out, you’re not one of those guys. You don’t sit at the lunch table with the quarterback and the cheerleaders. You just don’t.

And you’ve been living in denial. You’re the guy whose band has one song get a little bit of radio play and you start comparing yourself to John Lennon. You start telling your friends that you’ll probably hang out with Springsteen in a couple of weeks. You’re the guy at the bar telling a girl how he just got an acting gig on a soap opera and then Brad Pitt walks in, and she stops listening. You’re the girl who gets stopped by the bouncer at the door of the hot club right after he just let 10 other prettier girls in. You just discovered your place in the pecking order, and it hurts. 

And, yes, you’re a little surprised, and I get that. I mean the Big Ten took Rutgers and Maryland, how picky can they really be? But they’re not sure they want you. You’ve been telling the world you were the SEC of the West. Now you find out you’re not quite the Rutgers of the West. Ouch. You’re going to want to ice that.

And it’s not just that the Big Ten went to other people first. It’s the way this went down. The Big Ten unanimously and immediately takes two of your conference foes. You then run hat in hand begging for a seat on the bus, and the Big Ten says, yeah, you know, I’m not sure I want to talk about giving you guys a seat right now. We’re kind of full. We’re just dealing with the big fish right now. But maybe later.

Some of this was predictable. I mean, you should have had some idea this could happen. You did happen to notice that every time one of your coaches has any level of success he runs away and takes a better job. You’ve seen that happen a few times, right? 

You’ve heard, “There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else, there’s Mastercard.” We just learned there’s one thing that money apparently can’t buy. True college football relevance. Money can get you stadium upgrades, NIL deals to throw around, uniforms — lots and lots of uniforms. But money alone can’t make you a product that people really care about. It can’t get you over the hump. It can get you from bottom feeder to second rate. Nike money did that for you. Thank you, Uncle Phil. But it can’t get you to the A list. You actually have to win something at some point to get on the A list. And you haven’t. You just haven’t.

But there’s still an opportunity here. 

Because, look, maybe, just maybe, you’ll get in the Big Ten after all. The league can’t afford to get too top-heavy. Hulk Hogan can’t wrestle Macho Man Savage or Andre the Giant every night. Not every show is Wrestlemania. Sometimes, on a Tuesday in Milwaukee, you need to throw Hulk in there against what they call a jobber, a no-name, second-rate guy that’s just there to lose. The Big Ten has some jobbers already: Illinois. Indiana. Northwestern. But now that the Big Ten is adding all of these major stars, this top-shelf talent, they probably could use another jobber or two. And I think there’s a good chance Oregon can be one of those new jobbers. 

So I still think you guys will ultimately get in. You just won’t be sitting at the table with John and Paul, Keith and Mick. You don’t belong there. You’ll be sitting at the table with the backup singers and a couple of roadies. But you’ll be in the room. You’ll be in the room. That’s what matters. 

And if you get in, and I think you will, maybe you’ll be a little more grateful now. Because you’ll recognize just how close you came to playing San Diego State at 9:00 am on ESPN 8, the Ocho. And you’ll realize that you’re around primarily because USC needed some other west coast schools just to keep all of its road trips from being too far away. 

Or, maybe USC negotiated a deal with the Big Ten that would keep you out. Think of it as a college football zoning ordinance to keep out the riff-raff. You don’t necessarily want to move into a new neighborhood and have your old neighbor – the one with a lawn full of sofas and cars on blocks – follow you to the new place. So maybe you’re just out.

Which means, yes, it’s possible you’ll be playing in the Mountain West in a few years. But that’s not the end of the world. I think you guys will be very competitive there. I could see many exciting Emerald Bowls in your future. And you can wear a different uniform combination in each one. I promise.

And, Oregon, never forget where you came from. You may have to go back someday.