Flunking College Geography

I really shouldn’t get involved in this whole college sports “realignment” fiasco.

Nobody comes to this particular blog for sports stuff. There are, from what I gather, at least one or two other websites where those interested in sports might gravitate for their latest “hot stove” insights.

Not that I have insights. No inside info, no breaking news. And by the time I write and edit this bad boy, this’ll be such old news that’s been analyzed and overanalyzed to death.

But The Writing Wombat is where people come for snark, and assuming anybody is going to care about that annual Rutgers vs. Oregon barnburner deserves a shit-ton of snark.

I once opined that the Beavers and Cocks should play in the same conference with Ball State and Sac State. That seems about as random as putting Arizona and Central Florida in the same conference. So consider me an expert.

For you non sports-inclined readers, here’s a quick rejoinder on what the sports landscape looked like up until about five years ago. Then I can better explain just how whack-a-doodle it’s become.

Most sport leagues are divided up for geographic purposes.  The reason you always hear about the Boston Red Sox playing the New York Yankees, or the Chicago Bears’ long history versus the Green Bay Packers, or the grueling rivalry between the Los Angeles Lakers and Golden State Warriors, is because they 1) play each other more often and 2) are vying to “win” a four to seven team division. 

Even international sports divvies up by region. Sure, you might only pay attention to the World Cup, but to get to that World Cup, the teams have to play through regional tournaments. Maybe it’s not fair that the Dutch need to power through the Germans, French, and Italians to make the World Cup while the United States’ gauntlet includes that powerhouse of Trinidad & Tobago, but come on. If the U.S. had to play real countries, we’d never make the tournament and then FIFA would lose out on a bunch of advertisement dollars.

Not that money ever drives any sporting decisions. Qatar totally got the World Cup because of its vaunted sporting history. And Washington is totally right next to Pennsylvania.

The main reason for these divisions comes down to travel costs and fatigue. If the Los Angeles Dodgers get on a post-game plane in San Francisco or San Diego, they might be home by 1:00 am. If the flight’s from D.C. or Philly, it ain’t landing till tomorrow morning.

And bear in mind, those major league players aren’t flying Southwest. They’re got their own chartered flights. The college kids don’t. Sucks to be them. I’d tell them to unionize, but they aren’t making any money so no union would want them.

The divisions work out great for fans, too. The closeness of your rivals makes it easier to travel to those away games. It also means you’re more likely to intersperse with their fans while in all walks of life, which increases engagement.

College sports used to follow a similar pattern. There were twenty or so regional divisions. Most of these divisions overlapped with each other so the universities that were more focused on sports didn’t dominate those silly universities that care about those non-athletic weirdos walking around their campus quoting Kierkegaard. 

For instance, on the west coast, we had the likes of USC, UCLA, Stanford, and Oregon in the top division, called everything from the Pac (or Pacific)-8 to Pac-10 to Pac-12, changing the name to match the number of teams. Put a pin in that for later. 

The second level of West Coast teams play (at least for the last twenty years) in the Mountain West Conference. You might not have heard of all of their colleges, but you’re at least aware of their locations. San Diego, San Jose, Fresno, Reno, Vegas, Boise. Even Hawaii, which contains both Mountains and the West, but isn’t what normally equated with the western mountains. Rockies and Sierras, yes. Volcanos, not so much. 

Below the Mountain West is a handful of conferences, depending on the sport. My alma mater, UC Davis, is in the Big West for basketball but the Big Sky for football. 

Yes, colleges can be in different conferences for different sports. This might be something these universities might want to consider before the Pac-12 goes belly up for good.

Many other major and minor conferences spread out across the country. Historically, the Big 10 had its foothold in the Midwest while the Big 12 catered to the Great Plains. I’ll not insult your intelligence by explaining where you might find the Southeastern and Atlantic Coast conferences. All these conferences have unaffiliated conferences “underneath” them. 

These conferences have never been particularly static. Conferences poach from other major or minor conferences. Returning back to the Pacific, the Pac-8 added two Arizona teams to become the Pac-10, then Colorado (from the Big 12) and Utah (from the “underling” Mountain West) made it twelve. Colleges would base their decision to stay or leave on recruiting, as opposed to money because, last I checked, universities, particularly the public ones, are supposed to be… non-profit?

The difference between the old poaching and the new is that it used to be on the periphery. Does Colorado fit better with the West Coast than with the Great Plains? Once they legalized pot, I feel like they’re more likely to entice an Oregonian to attend than an Oklahoman. Nebraska followed their move by bolting in the opposite direction toward the Big Ten. Someone from Chicago might not consider Nebraska to be in the Midwest, but being in a conference with Minnesota and Iowa makes a certain amount of sense for Nebraska. 

This Nebraska defection was when the conference names started to make no sense. The Big 12, having lost two members, now had ten schools. The Big 10, meanwhile, which had actually had eleven teams for some time (but Big 11 sounds stupid) now had twelve. Everybody just shrugged and figured there was no reason to have institutes of higher learning be able to finish the Sesame Street counting song. 

Not sure where the wheels came off. A few years ago, the Big 12 lost its flagship schools, with Texas and Oklahoma joining the SEC. This was the first time it seemed to be about money more than wins.  The SEC is, far and away, the best conference in the country. Both schools moved from a conference where they were the preeminent power, virtually assured of winning their conference and being in the playoffs to a conference where they’ll be lucky to compete for fourth place. Trust me, Texas ain’t stealing the top recruits from Alabama any time soon. 

Still, you don’t have to squint hard to see Texas and Oklahoma being at home in a conference named Southeast. 

Then, about a year ago, USC (that’s the University of Southern California, in case you were wondering) and UCLA (the last two letters of which stand for Los Angeles, also in Southern California) decided that, instead of playing in a conference named for the ocean they played next to, they wanted to play most of their games three time zones away. Both schools joined the Big 10 and, starting next season, will be nestled into the standings with the likes of Ohio State, Michigan, and Penn State. Again, that Penn is short for Pennsylvania.

The Pac-12, which had just lost two of its premier programs (well, one premier programs plus UCLA), reacted by doing… well, not really much of anything. If you ignore a problem long enough, it’ll just go away. Unfortunately for the Pac-12, the “it” that their ignorance made go away was six more colleges and a t.v. deal. 

Colorado left first, returning to the Big 12 from whence it came, although now that Big 12 doesn’t have Nebraska, Texas, or Oklahoma, so they’ve got to be feeling good about their chances. There were rumors that the Pac-12, now down to nine members, might bring in San Diego State, or maybe Boise State, to get back up to ten or twelve. But first, they needed to figure out that whole t.v. thing.

They were finally on the cusp of a deal with AppleTV. Don’t bother looking for AppleTV on your cable or satellite offerings. Nothing screams great sport viewing like a service primarily watched on one’s phone or tablet. Brilliant strategy, especially once we learned, after its demise, that they turned down deals from ESPN, Fox, CBS, and probably every other network in order to be on a platform that fewer than half of Americans have. Glad it ended up falling apart, because I’m a Google guy and I didn’t want to have to choose between Android and football.

Then, within a few hours of each other on a recent Friday, five more teams left the conference. The three easternmost teams followed Colorado into the Big 12, while Oregon and Washington followed their L.A. brethren into the Midwest. If anything, they did those schools a solid with this move, as now they’ll have a few more games in their time zone.

If you’re keeping count, the Pac-12 is now down to four teams. They’ve got a lot more problems to worry about beyond their name, which is why I can’t find a Pac-4 shirt anywhere. Unfortunately, some of them are still planning on leaving. Personally, I’d stay in the conference if I were them, assuming the conference champion still gets an automatic bid to the Rose Bowl and March Madness. That path just got a hell of a lot easier. 

But nope, the Pac-12 is officially in “Last Person to Leave, Turn the Lights Out” territory. Oregon State and Washington State are being mentioned as joining that “minor league” Mountain West Conference they’ve scoffed at for years. Cal and Stanford won’t slum it down there, though. So those two schools, which sit on the two sides of the San Francisco Bay, are flirting with joining the Atlantic Coast Conference. You know this whole DeSantis/Newsom feud is getting serious when Berkeley and Florida State consider themselves natural rivals.

That move was blocked by some of the ACC teams who finally decided to look at a map and realize that, if the S.F. teams were playing on the east coast, then the east coast teams would also have to play out west. Nobody wants to start their games at 10:00 pm. That aversion will cost at least a few more million to overcome.

So here’s your updated crib sheet: The Big Ten has eighteen members, the Big 12 has sixteen. The Atlantic Coast might stretch to San Francisco. Too bad there’s no Canadian Conference or  they could extend an invitation to Cuba.

Football will be fine. They play one game a week, usually on a weekend,  and the millions of dollars they earn in t.v. revenue can cover some charter flights. The real problem with this realignment is that the other sports have to follow suit. What’s it going to be like for a baseball or volleyball player from Washington who has to play a Tuesday game in New Jersey and a Thursday game in Ohio while also attending classes.

I’m sure that badminton scholarship sophomore is going to be absolutely thrilled with this new set-up. After all, their college is getting millions of dollars. From which the average student gets…. A few more books? Maybe faster internet? Nah. Any money will be invested back into the football stadium. Or maybe a few extra million dollars in the pocket of a “non-profit” regent. 

But it’s all about that education, right?

Not So Magic Mountain

Growing up in Southern California, Six Flags Magic Mountain was always one of my favorite places. So the second my daughter was old enough (tall enough, really), I couldn’t wait to take her there. Unfortunately, when that time finally came around, a few Mondays ago, my first visit in twenty years didn’t live up to those childhood (teenage, really) expectations. 

Back then, the various SoCal amusement parks could be broken down by the ages they catered to. Disneyland, despite its Mickey Mouse and Snow White foundation, wasn’t necessarily the youngest option. That distinction belonged to Knott’s Berry Farm, with not much in the way of rides. Mostly Old West shows and maybe a log ride. It was even the first amusement park to offer a kiddie area in Camp Snoopy, although it was added after the time I would’ve been interested.

While the characters and overall motif at Disneyland caters to little kids, many of the best rides are far from that. That’s probably why it has such staying power and parents can’t wait to take their kids. Hey kids, look at Mickey and Minnie over there while I ride Space Mountain again. 

Now if you took the characters and the Fantasyland rides out of Disneyland, and add in about ten more Space Mountains, you’ve got Magic Mountain. All thrill rides, no frills. My happy spot.

It’s odd that Magic Mountain became a favorite since the single most miserable day of my upbringing happened there. I was about 46 1/2 inches tall. So I had to sit on some benches with my aunt while my mom and older sister went on and then gushed about all the rides. This was back in 1980 or so when there wasn’t any kiddie land. Or misters or tv’s in line or, really, anything other than thrill rides. Fucking brutal. I hope my mom didn’t pay full admission for me. Or my aunt. There ought to be some sort of “Designated Driver” discount for someone who isn’t going on rides. 

Actually, a waterslide park I recently went to was free for anyone over the age of seventy, presumably because they aren’t likely to ride many water slides. Magic Mountain, unfortunately, did not follow that logic, so my mom had to pay full admission when she and I took Daughter, despite not going on any rides. She sat on some of those very benches she left me on back in the Carter administration. 

Revenge is best served cold.

My mom wasn’t the only one who paid more than her fair share. All summer long, I tracked prices that consistently showed the day we wanted to visit at $70. There was also a season pass option that would allow us as many visits as we wanted for the rest of 2023 for only $100, including free parking! That free parking made me think long and hard about paying the extra $30 to upgrade from one day, but I would’ve had to get three season passes. It’s not like I would return without Daughter and if the two of us were going to trek all the way to SoCal for an amusement park day, Mother would probably join us again. So $30 extra bucks times three? Meh, let’s pay for parking.

If only. The walk-up admission wasn’t actually the $70 that was showing on the website as recently as yesterday. This paying a little extra for walking up has become relatively common. My local minor league baseball team was the first place I saw it, about fifteen years ago. At first I thought it was stupid to discourage last-minute customers. Hey, what do you want to do tonight? Should we head to the ballgame? Nah, they charge two bucks more because we didn’t buy it yesterday.

Still not a fan of the practice, but much like assholes backing into parking lots, I’ve made peace with it as a permanent addition to this hellscape. You see, discouraging walk-ups isn’t a glitch in the plan, it’s the actual plan. They need to make staffing decisions, and if they don’t know how many customers are going to show up, they have to pay more hourly wages. If they can predict 24 hours in advance, they can staff (or lack of staff) accordingly. Maybe the issues we had once we were inside Magic Mountain were our own damn fault for not “letting them know” we were coming. That would be their explanation, I’m sure. 

But shouldn’t an amusement park in the middle of summer budget for a handful of walk-ups?

So I expected them to charge us an extra ten percent or whatever. Tag on the minimum wage they’re paying the employee mumbling through an explanation of how one day costs more than an entire year. Because that’s what it came out to. One twenty per person. Plus parking.

Naturally, we asked if we might just get the season pass instead, seeing as it was twenty dollars cheaper than the daily admission. They said no with some gobbledygook explanation of adding the season pass onto the top of today’s admission. In all honesty, I couldn’t tell you what the total price would be. It sounded like we’d get no discount whatsoever for actually having already purchased that day’s tickets. So for $100, you can come all season, but to come today and all season, it’ll put you back $220.

Our Magic Mountain experience didn’t improve much once we were inside. It felt like a ghost town. 

We got there around just before noon, a little over an hour after it opened, but you wouldn’t know that anywhere other than lines for a few rides. I had specifically picked a Monday to avoid  terrible crowds, but sheesh, this place felt at maybe twenty percent capacity. Monday, sure, but it’s still a Monday in Summer. Did the former overshadow the latter? Or is this par for the course these days?

Almost nothing was open between the entry gate and the first batch of rides, about a quarter of the way around the park. We walked past closed Dippin’ Dots stands, closed souvenir shops, an entire closed kiddie land. Perhaps this should’ve been a hint about what the rest of the park was going to be like, but it wasn’t a foreshadowing I portended at that moment.

Of course, Daughter wanted to go on the ride she saw from the parking lot first, so we had to truck all the way over to the far corner. Not a bad starting point, since we’d be starting the day at the back of the park while other attendees (if there were any) would start at the front. If more than half the rides were open, it might’ve been a great plan.

Not that we could track how long lines might be like at Disneyland. Because the Six Flags app absolutely sucks. On the way to the Scream we passed a cool looking ride called Full Throttle. It didn’t seem to have anybody in line, but when I checked the app, it said it was a 55 minute wait (that’s where all the customers are!). No way was Daughter waiting an hour for her very first ride of the day, so we continued on to Scream and Colossus (I refuse to call it by its new name), where we found a “Ride Wait Time” TV that showed Full Throttle only had a 15 minute wait. That jibed more with the line we had seen. Meanwhile, the app on my phone still showed close to an hour. Throughout the day, the screens said one thing, the app said another, and neither seemed to have much bearing on reality.

Scream, meanwhile, had a five-minute wait, so we rode that not once, but twice in a row, which, it turns out, wasn’t great for my constitution. I know I’m getting older, but holy crap, that ride zips you back and forth fifteen different directions. Then went on Batman, the Ride, which also had virtually no line and similar movement. I had to take a breather after riding those back-to-back. 

I’m fine with loops and corkscrews and most of the other things a ride will throw at you, but those rides did this weird bob-and-weave on the drops that brought up a dizziness I’ve never really had on roller coasters. Clearly my center of gravity ain’t where it was when I was nineteen.  I should add to my list of reasons for taking Daughter to Magic Mountain now the fact that, at the rate I’m going, she might not have a ride partner much longer. Then again, Scream pretty much never had more than a five-minute wait (if my app and the screens were to be believed), so maybe I’m not the only one that took a hard pass on that one.

Fortunately I rallied shortly thereafter and didn’t experience that vertigo on any other rides. Waiting an hour for the thirty-second Superman ride, which only goes straight, probably helped.

The lines seemed to fall into that all or nothing range. Less than ten minutes or pushing an hour. Two of the rides with short lines were Ninja, which was state of the art back when I was a regular here in high school, and Revolution. Ah, poor Revolution. The world’s first “successful” loop roller coaster. I’m curious about some of those unsuccessful ones. At one point, Revolution and Colossus were the lifeblood of the park. Now, they’ve rebuilt Colossus to add some upside downs and corkscrews and they’ve rebranded Revolution as “The New Revolution – Classic.” What the hell does that even mean? As far as I could tell by riding it, it’s the same ride it’s been since 1976. 

I guess it’s to be expected for a park that adds a new ride every year. The old ones become obsolete instead of classic. You don’t see that happening at Disneyland, though. Matterhorn, Space Mountain, and Big Thunder might not require a virtual queue like their fancy new Rise of the Resistance, but I’ve never been able to walk right on Space Mountain three times in a row like we did Viper. Maybe a paint job is in order? Because every ride more than a decade old at Magic Mountain looked like it belonged at the state fair. 

The ones I was able to get on, at any rate. Because on a Monday in the middle of summer, half the damn park was closed. Riddler’s Revenge:  closed. Goliath: closed. Lex Luthor: closed. Ninja: closed. Apocalypse, which was my favorite ride and now that Colossus is fancy-dancy upside-down and loop-de-loop, the only genuine, straightforward wooden coaster: closed.

Not just the thrill rides, either. The Justice League building was closed. The carousel might’ve even been closed. The most unconscionable decision on a 100-degree day, they even closed one of the two water rides. Maybe they were pissed more of us didn’t pre-buy access to Hurricane Harbor, their waterslide addendum next door. 

Yes, I know amusement parks have to refurbish from time to time, but don’t they usually try to do those one at a time? Also, there’s this wonderful thing called an offseason. Okay, maybe Disneyland doesn’t have a legitimate offseason, but I’m pretty sure Magic Mountain is literally only open weekends between October and April. Tons of time to close down rides for a paint job. And preferably, one at a time.

Especially the water slides. Did I mention they used to have misters in line? How thoughtful!

So yeah, much like childhood friends or a class reunion, the intervening thirty years hasn’t been kind to my simpatico with Magic Mountain. Once upon a time, we were on the same wavelength regarding the proper types of rides and lines and everything an amusement park should be. Now they’re my stoner friend who never left our hometown and has no clue that the rest of the world has moved on to bigger and better things. Even Universal Studios!

A friend of mine calls this the Sizzler Syndrome. He loved Sizzler growing up, but he refuses to go to it as an adult, because he knows he will be disappointed. There’s probably an element of that going on with me, where the things that entice me about an amusement park today aren’t what I would’ve enjoyed back then. But while Sizzler is probably the same it’s always been, I’m standing my ground and saying Magic Mountain is mostly at fault.

It felt rundown, unkempt, and ignored. There’s been talk that many developers want to tear it down and sell the land. Ironically, the reason it’s in Valencia in the first place is because you couldn’t give that land away sixty years ago. Now it’s prime real estate.

At the rate they’re going, a strip mall might be an improvement.