Auburn’s decision to add seven new national championships in mid August may sound absurd to some but I say let Auburn cook proudly
College football thrives on history, tradition, and debate, and nowhere is that clearer than in the way programs decide to tell their own stories. Auburn’s decision in mid-August to suddenly recognize seven additional national championships has been met with equal parts laughter, skepticism, and excitement. To critics, the timing feels absurd, like a marketing stunt dreamed up in the dog days of the offseason. But to Auburn fans and many who follow the sport with a deeper appreciation for its complicated past, there is something admirable in the audacity. Let Auburn cook, because this move says more about the spirit of the program and the nature of college football than any snide comment from a rival could possibly diminish.
For decades, Auburn football officially recognized two national championships: the Associated Press title of 1957 and the BCS crown of 2010. These two seasons were iconic, the bedrock of Auburn’s modern tradition, celebrated in banners, media guides, and stadium lore. Yet they were not the only years in which Auburn could reasonably claim supremacy. The history of college football before the creation of the Bowl Championship Series in 1998 and the College Football Playoff in 2014 was messy, fragmented, and often contradictory. Championships were awarded by multiple selectors—newspapers, polls, organizations, computer formulas—and rarely was there consensus. Teams could finish undefeated and be ignored, while others lost and still found themselves crowned champions. Into this chaos, Auburn has now stepped boldly, choosing to recognize the full breadth of its historical claims.
Adding seven more national titles might feel sudden, but the evidence has been there all along. Historical selectors such as the Billingsley Report, the Helms Athletic Foundation, and various mathematical ranking systems named Auburn champions in multiple seasons, yet the university never placed its official stamp of recognition on those years. Fans talked about them, historians documented them, but the school itself stayed silent. That silence placed Auburn behind its peers. Alabama, for example, has long claimed 18 national championships, including several from selectors few outside the state have ever heard of. Minnesota, Michigan, Texas A&M, Princeton, and Yale also recognize titles from a broad range of sources, many from eras when multiple teams laid claim to the same crown. Auburn’s reluctance made its history appear thinner by comparison, even though its teams were just as deserving.
The decision to finally embrace those additional titles is both a correction and a declaration. It is a correction in the sense that it validates what Auburn supporters have always known: that their program’s greatness extends well beyond two shining seasons. It is a declaration because it announces that Auburn is ready to stand toe-to-toe with rivals in the narrative wars that shape college football tradition. Let Alabama boast of its 18. Let Notre Dame speak of its 11. Let Michigan rattle off its titles. Auburn will now hold nine, and those nine will be celebrated as proudly as if the trophies had been lifted yesterday.
Of course, critics are quick to dismiss the move as absurd. They argue that retroactive championships cheapen the meaning of the sport’s greatest prize, that Auburn is inflating its legacy for marketing purposes, or that championships should only be counted when universally agreed upon at the time. But such critiques misunderstand the nature of college football history. There has never been universal agreement. Before the BCS and CFP, there was no playoff, no definitive system. Every champion crowned before those eras is the product of interpretation. If Auburn is guilty of absurdity, then so is nearly every other major program with retroactive titles. What Auburn has done is no more unusual than what Alabama has done for decades.
The timing, mid-August, is almost comical, arriving just as the long offseason nears its end. But maybe that timing is perfect. College football thrives on stories, and Auburn has provided a new one just as fans were desperate for fresh debate. Message boards light up, radio hosts argue, rivals scoff, and Auburn fans celebrate. The timing ensures maximum attention, turning what could have been a quiet historical footnote into a national conversation. If the move feels absurd, it is only because college football itself is absurd—a sport where debates over “real” championships stretch back over a century, where tradition carries as much weight as statistics, and where perception often matters more than fact.
For Auburn fans, the addition of seven titles is not absurd but vindicating. It honors the players and coaches of past generations who built dominant teams, only to see their accomplishments minimized by quirks of the system. Those teams now stand alongside 1957 and 2010 as equal champions, woven into the program’s official identity. Fans who always believed their history was richer than outsiders admitted now have validation. For a fan base that has endured decades of hearing Alabama fans boast endlessly about national championships, this move provides long overdue ammunition. The Iron Bowl rivalry, already fierce, gains another chapter, with Auburn fans proudly able to counter Alabama’s boasts with a fuller historical record.
Recruiting is another area where perception matters greatly. Recruits are not historians; they are teenagers weighing options. When a program can present itself as a nine-time national champion, that number carries weight. It signals tradition, prestige, and greatness. Auburn coaches can now sell a vision of excellence that stretches across generations, not confined to two isolated seasons. Even if rival coaches mock the move behind closed doors, the impact on recruits is real. Nine championships look better than two, and in the competitive arms race of the SEC, every edge matters.
Beyond rivalry and recruiting, Auburn’s decision speaks to the broader nature of storytelling in sports. Programs are not just collections of wins and losses; they are narratives, built on memory, identity, and pride. By recognizing these championships, Auburn has chosen to tell a fuller story of itself. That story may not satisfy every critic, but it will resonate with the Auburn family, and that is what matters most. Sports are about community, about the bond between a program and its people, and this decision strengthens that bond. Fans will walk into Jordan-Hare Stadium and see banners celebrating nine championships. They will bring their children and grandchildren to games, pointing to those banners, passing down a sense of belonging to something grander than the present moment.
The beauty of Auburn’s move is that it acknowledges the messiness of history rather than pretending it doesn’t exist. College football’s past is filled with contradictions, overlapping claims, and subjective judgments. No program’s championship count is free from debate. Auburn’s decision to embrace its full history is an honest acceptance of that reality. It is a recognition that history is not fixed but constantly interpreted and reinterpreted. Let Auburn cook, because in choosing to tell its story more fully, it has not diminished the sport but enriched it.
In the years ahead, these new championships will become part of Auburn’s identity, no longer debated within the fan base but celebrated as fact. Critics will continue to scoff, but their scoffing will only reinforce the pride of Auburn fans who know their program’s greatness is real. The Iron Bowl will be fought not only on the field but in the history books, as Auburn and Alabama battle over perception as much as points. And the rest of the college football world will watch, argue, and laugh, as they always do, because that is the essence of the sport.
Ultimately, the absurdity is what makes college football special. It is a sport defined by passion, rivalry, and tradition, where facts and myths intertwine until they are indistinguishable. Auburn’s addition of seven championships in mid-August fits perfectly into that tradition. It is bold, it is controversial, and it is deeply Auburn. Critics can roll their eyes, rivals can laugh, but Auburn fans will celebrate, and that celebration is what gives the decision meaning. Let Auburn cook, because in doing so, the program has stirred the pot of college football’s greatest ingredient: debate.
Auburn football now stands as a nine-time national champion, and whether outsiders agree or not, that title will be carried proudly. In the end, championships are as much about the stories we tell as the games we play. Auburn has chosen to tell a story that is fuller, prouder, and more defiant than before. That story may be absurd to some, but it is beautiful to those who believe. And in college football, belief is everything.
