Last night’s Notre Dame vs. Ohio State game felt like watching a surreal blend of college tradition and professional sports theater. These “kids” on the field—most of whom are barely out of their teens—are anything but ordinary students. They are near-professional athletes, arriving on campus early to squeeze in a few classroom hours between grueling practices. Many are free agents in the transfer portal, traded to the highest bidder, their value bolstered by massive NIL (Name, Image, Likeness) deals that dwarf the earnings of most entry-level professionals.

For those destined for the NFL, college football has become a proving ground, a high-stakes audition wrapped in school colors and marching bands. It’s thrilling, no doubt, but it also raises questions about the soul of the game. Is this still the college football of tradition and unpredictability, or is it just a feeder league for the pros?

And yet, moments of old-school charm remain, and they are the reason I still love the spectacle. Take, for example, the Texas A&M “12th Man,” a kickoff team of walk-ons that embodies unpredictability, grit, and heart—qualities that seem increasingly rare in this era of big-money athletics. Or the wacky, wonderfully irreverent marching bands that are just as much a part of the show as the players themselves.

Music, too, is evolving in these iconic stadium sing-alongs. The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” seems to be overtaking the once-ubiquitous “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes and Steam’s infectious “Nah Nah Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye.” Meanwhile, the traditions still linger: Ohio State’s “Hang on Sloopy” (courtesy of The Vibrations) is a spirited classic, while Notre Dame holds steady with the timeless ND Victory March, as if to remind us that some things shouldn’t change.

The tension between the commercialized spectacle and the enduring quirks of college football creates a fascinating paradox. We cheer for the future stars who could someday dominate the NFL, but we also savor the absurdities—the kid with no shot of going pro making a game-changing play, the band’s hilariously off-key rendition of a pop hit, and the palpable energy of a student section that doesn’t care who’s being paid what.

College football isn’t what it used to be.

Maybe it’s not supposed to be.