By Jack Edwards

It only took 100 years worth of disorganized effort, bickering and petty infighting, but finally, we have a national college football championship playoff. It’s run by an outfit with the snappy title of the College Football Playoff (CFP) Administration, LLC. The CFP didn’t waste any time lollygagging around. It got right down to business designing a new logo befitting the honor and prestige of the College Football Playoffs. After putting their heads together and logging countless hours, they emerged victorious with their new design and plastered it everywhere but the stadium toilet seats, most notably, smack down in the middle of the playing field. Oddly enough, the logo they chose is composed of two bananas facing one another.

I don’t like to criticize the sincere and passionate effort of others, but I fail to see the connection between bananas and college football. I don’t want to be the only one in the room who didn’t get the point, but the best I can imagine is that it’s a reference to the winner being the “Top Banana.” If so, shouldn’t the logo just be one banana? If they want to make a statement that that winner is the Top College Football Banana, then they should be more straightforward about it. In that case, I suggest the logo be a bunch of bananas with one golden banana hovering above the bunch. Perhaps put a crown on the hovering banana. Now, that would make sense. People with a meager public education such as my own could grasp that (i.e. we could grasp that banana.)

My wife is a rabid fan of the Oregon “Fighting Ducks.” So when Oregon earned a place in the finals, our family’s attendance was mandatory. However, our trip to Texas made the trouble in the movie Trains, Planes and Automobiles look like a delayed flight. We endured numerous hardships, including torturous day-long layovers and, one more than one occasion, stale airplane peanuts. I even “took one for the team” when I cut my hand and had to be rushed to the doctor by my experienced accident prone daughter. The doctor stitched me up and attached a metal thumb brace. Then she sent me off to the big game with a bandage on my hand the size of one of those prehistoric clubs that the cavemen used to whack dinosaurs over the head. Except that when the doctor found out why I was traveling, she wrapped it in neon green tape. (Oregon’s colors are yellow and green.) The Oregon football team, on the other hand, chose to make a statement wearing its unofficial team colors – gray and white. As it turned out, not their worse decision of the night. Our opponents in the national title game, the Ohio State Buckeyes, made the interesting choice of actually wearing their team colors.

In the end, as you know, it was not to be for the Ducks. They failed to conquer the Buckeyes (whatever a buckeye is). I don’t want to be a bad sport about it, but I blame the CFP. The fact is, I have never seen a duck eat a banana. Stale bread? Yes. They gobble that down like a drunk fan noshing Chex mix at a tailgater, but never bananas. On the other hand, I don’t know what the heck a buckeye is, but I bet it loves bananas. Craves bananas. Dreams about bananas. So if the CFP is going to insist on keeping that ridiculous logo next year, I only have one piece of advice for Oregon. For the love of Pete, please change your mascot to the “Fighting Chimpanzees.”