Boise State's Slipper Still Fits . . .

What is there to add about one of the greatest games you or I have ever seen? Last year's Rose Bowl (which I only saw after the fact, as I was in Africa for the bowl season) was a truly great game, but the Fiesta Bowl, which pitted traditional power Oklahoma against upstart Boise State, best known to most casual fans as the team that plays on the blue "Smurf Turf," had the added benefit of presenting one of sport's favorite scenarios: The plucky underdog against the fearsome powerhouse; David versus Goliath; windshield versus bug. Because of this confluence of circumstances, Boise State won a game from which we will be seeing highlights until our alien overlords take control.

And yet a funny thing happened on the way to the coach turning into a pumpkin: Boise State did not play like an underdog. They did not play like a team filling their role in a script. They did not back down. And as a result they won the game, they won respect, and they changed the nature of the debate over how college football ends its season.

Let's forget for a minute the spectacular ending -- the perfectly executed hook and ladder, the pass from the non-quarterback (wide receiver Vinny Parretta), the decision to go for two when one would have continued the overtime, the modified Statue of Liberty play to score on the two-point attempt, that running back's (his name is Ian Johnson) proposal to the cheerleader (Chrissy Popadics) that almost assured that someone will make a movie out of the 2006-2007 Boise State football team. (If you insist on details you can and should read EDSBS's coverage here.)

The reality is that it was Oklahoma that had to muster a feverish, improbably comeback after Boise State came out and punched the Sooners in the mouth. Boise State was winning the game handily and in such a way that the final outcome, while wild, and while predicated on opening up a playbook, should make Boise State's head coach, Chris Petersen, the new crush for all AD's looking to fill coaching vacancies. Petersen thoroughly outcoached Bob Stoops, Oklahoma's erstwhile genius. And Boise State was simply better than Oklahoma on New Year's Day.

Back in November, after the Ohio State-Michigan game, I made the case for Boise State. I concluded my argument by writing:

Since the solons who control NCAA football do not care about legitimately deciding the championship on the field, I will continue to preach the virtues of Boise State, the people's national champion. A team that has done what Michigan, Florida, and USC could not do. A team that deserves a piece of Ohio State until we have a playoff system that gives every conference at least one berth in a tournament that decides the national championship where every other NCAA football division manages to establish these things -- on the field. Go Broncos!

Of course at the time, mine was a protest voice, an argument railing against a power structure that has proven both unjust and inflexible. But suddenly my argument, and that of thousands like me, does not seem so quixotic. There is no doubt in my mind now that whoever wins the "national title" will be a dubious champion. This will be especially true if Florida upsets the heavily favored Ohio State Buckeyes. Suffice it to say, I am jumping on the Gator bandwagon, hoping that the coach of the last non-BCS-conference team to win a BCS Bowl, Urban Myer, can validate his own ascent from it boy to savior, have-not to have, and in so doing, can cement Boise State's claim (with the help of AP voters) to at least a share of the most improbable national championship in the history of college sports.