FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — It is so easy to forget how great this sport can be, to forget why it consumes so much of the country in ways we in New York City can’t quite fathom.
In its own way, college football is a little bit like soccer: across the globe, entire nations come to a standstill when important matches take place … or, for that matter, when even the wonderfully titled exhibitions called “friendlies” are on the schedule. There is still a large segment of the American population puzzled by this hypnotic effect.
It’s the same with New York and college football. We are a pro town, with our own professional obsessions, with no major-college team any closer than Syracuse or State College or Piscataway. Our connections are peripheral at best: where we went to school. Where our spouse went to school. A particularly enticing point spread. Heck, there isn’t even a fantasy aspect to the sport. What’s all the fuss about?
Only this is different. For the sport, sure. For the rest of the country, for whom this is only a few yards shy of the Super Bowl. But also for us, in our regional cocoon. This is Notre Dame versus Alabama, Crimson Tide versus Fighting Irish, and there isn’t another matchup available that could plug itself as completely into New York City.
“We are acutely aware of the interest surrounding this game,” Notre Dame coach Brian Kelley said this past week.
“It’s a privilege to be associated with this game,” Alabama coach Nick Saban said.
They weren’t necessarily speaking directly at us when they said it, of course. But they could have been. Notre Dame. Alabama. There isn’t another way this could have shaken out better for a city without a specific rooting interest.
There is Notre Dame, of course, and let’s face it: when the term “subway alumni” was coined, it wasn’t as if the coiner had the subway system of Ottumwa, Iowa in mind. Historically, New York City has been a Notre Dame satellite campus, whether it was for the epic games against Army back in the day or their periodic trips to the Meadowlands, or just the fact millions of Catholic-school pupils were taught Notre Dame football was a just and righteous cause every Saturday.
Just try walking down a Manhattan street these days without seeing a “ND” baseball cap, an “IRISH” sweatshirt, a “Catholics vs. Cousins” T-shirt, a blue-and-gold windbreaker, a shamrock-faced ski cap.
And there is Alabama, which yielded two things dear to the New York heart. The first, of course, is Joe Willie Namath, who nearly 50 years after leaving Tuscaloosa for Fun City has managed a most remarkable feat: he is a New York icon unscathed, unscarred, despite his various dalliances with private (and sometimes very public) demons, a man who has managed to be both beloved by Jets fans and (as time heals all wounds) unhated by Giants fans.
But Alabama also means — will forever mean — Paul “Bear” Bryant, and there is something about Bryant that speaks directly to a New Yorker’s heart, even if he was raised in Arkansas, played and coached in Alabama, coached in Kentucky and Texas, making him as Deep South as geography allows. He was the towering figure of his times, with a growl and a houndstooth hat Madison Avenue should have trademarked. Saban may be the guy with the title now, but he is what every other coach there has been since 1982: a temporary caretaker for the giant’s chair.
We needed a game like this in the worst way. Last year’s title game, LSU-Alabama, featured what were far and away the two best teams in the country, but they were contained to the same region, the same league — hell, the same division in the same league. That wasn’t just oppressive to New York, but to the Big Ten and everyone else. Maybe that doesn’t matter everywhere else. It does to us.
So we have our icons back. We have Notre Dame. We have Alabama. We have titans to watch, giants to root for, just what we needed to remind us what a splendid sport this really is. Give us the upstarts and the rest again next year. This’ll do just fine for now.
michael.vaccaro@nypost.com