How College Football’s Realignment and Playoff Expansion Has Put One of the Sport’s Most Iconic Rivalries in Jeopardy
All the reshuffling of schedules, conferences and playoff formats in college football has placed one of the sport’s best rivalries in jeopardy. As realignment continues to reshape the landscape of the game, time-honored traditions are increasingly being sacrificed for television contracts, conference affiliations, and playoff logistics. Rivalries, which once served as the beating heart of college football’s identity, are now being treated like optional features—at best—and expendable complications—at worst. Among those facing uncertainty is a rivalry that for decades has served as a pillar of intensity, drama, and history.
College football thrives not because of its uniformity, but because of its regional passions. Unlike the NFL, where parity is king, college football is built on traditions, loyalties, and deeply rooted rivalries that define fan identities across generations. Rivalries like Michigan–Ohio State, Alabama–Auburn, Oklahoma–Texas, and Notre Dame–USC have transcended sports to become cultural events. These are games that shape legacies, define seasons, and stir emotions in ways few other athletic contests can. They are part of the soul of college football.
But as the sport chases television revenue and national expansion, these rivalries are being stressed in ways few would have imagined even a decade ago. Conference realignment, once an occasional ripple, has turned into a tidal wave. Programs are jumping from one league to another not out of geographical or historical alignment, but in pursuit of financial windfalls and competitive advantages. The Big Ten, long considered the Midwest’s regional conference, now stretches coast to coast, from Rutgers in New Jersey to USC in California. The SEC has expanded west to include Texas and Oklahoma. The Pac-12, once home to some of college football’s most storied programs, has all but evaporated.
This frenzy of change has sent shockwaves through the sport’s scheduling traditions. Games that once happened annually—no matter what—are now subject to contract renegotiations, conference permissions, and television priorities. Rivalries that have been played uninterrupted for over a century are suddenly on the chopping block. And when you add the new 12-team playoff format into the mix, the calculus becomes even more complex. Coaches and athletic directors are being forced to think not just in terms of wins and losses, but in terms of resume strength, playoff seeding, and strategic rest for key players.
Nowhere is this tension more evident than in the Notre Dame–USC rivalry, one of the game’s most storied matchups and arguably the greatest intersectional rivalry in college football history. Since 1926, with few interruptions, the Fighting Irish and the Trojans have met nearly every year, often with national title implications on the line. It’s a rivalry rich with Heisman winners, legendary coaches, unforgettable moments, and a mutual respect born from tradition, not proximity. Yet today, that very tradition is at risk.
With USC’s move to the Big Ten, logistical and scheduling challenges have emerged. The Trojans will now face a rigorous conference slate that includes Penn State, Michigan, and Ohio State, along with annual games against rivals UCLA and Notre Dame. That’s a daunting schedule, especially in a playoff era where one or two losses could mean the difference between a home-field playoff game and a treacherous road trip. Already, there are murmurs in athletic departments and television offices that these traditional matchups could become less frequent or even shelved entirely in certain years.
Notre Dame, as an independent, also faces new pressures. While the Irish have long enjoyed the freedom of crafting their own schedule, the new playoff system may force their hand. Without a conference title game, Notre Dame will need to build a resume strong enough to impress the playoff committee without the benefit of a final conference showdown. That puts even more importance on strength of schedule, which cuts both ways. On one hand, traditional games like USC, Stanford, and Navy offer brand recognition. On the other hand, too many tough games, and Notre Dame could be left out of the playoff altogether.
The rivalry with USC becomes a double-edged sword. It is perhaps the most prestigious regular season game on Notre Dame’s schedule, a clash of blue bloods with decades of history behind it. But it is also a game played late in the season, often with playoff implications, and it pits Notre Dame against a team that will now be battle-tested (and potentially battle-weary) from its Big Ten grind. The incentive to keep the rivalry alive is strong, but the forces working against it are mounting.
And it’s not just Notre Dame–USC that’s at risk. The ripple effect of realignment is destabilizing other traditional rivalries as well. Oklahoma–Oklahoma State, known as Bedlam, has already announced its uncertain future. The Civil War between Oregon and Oregon State is on life support. Even non-conference rivalries like Florida–Florida State or Georgia–Georgia Tech could soon face pressure if schedules become overloaded with conference mandates and playoff positioning.
The new playoff format, which expands the field from four to twelve teams, was supposed to solve many of these issues by giving more teams access to the postseason. But in practice, it may be adding more strain to the regular season. A single loss now doesn’t end a team’s playoff hopes, but two or three might. Coaches and administrators may become increasingly conservative with scheduling, opting for easier paths to 10+ wins rather than gambling on a gauntlet filled with rivalry games that carry more pride than playoff value.
That’s the core issue—rivalries carry immense emotional weight, but not always strategic value in the playoff era. Notre Dame and USC both know what this game means to their history, alumni, and fan bases. But in a system where losses are penalized and resumes are scrutinized, there’s a growing incentive to avoid potential pitfalls—especially when conference championships and playoff seedings are on the line. Would USC really risk playing Notre Dame every year if it means one more tough game that could knock them out of the top four? Would Notre Dame continue to load its schedule with marquee opponents if it finds itself edged out by 10-2 conference champions?
These are the difficult questions being asked in athletic departments across the country. And while fans long for tradition, decision-makers are increasingly focused on strategy, optics, and finance. Television executives may favor high-profile games, but they also want playoff games with the biggest brands involved. If preserving a rivalry means risking a playoff spot, some programs may begin to rethink their priorities.
It’s a sobering reality, but not an inevitable one. College football still has the power to protect what makes it special. The Notre Dame–USC rivalry is not just another game; it’s a time capsule, a showcase of college football’s best values: passion, history, competition, and pride. The idea that it could be diminished—or worse, eliminated—because of scheduling constraints or playoff positioning would be a tragedy for the sport.
The solution lies in leadership. Conferences and schools must recognize that college football’s soul lies not in TV contracts or playoff expansions, but in the games that matter to people. Rivalries are the lifeblood of the sport. They are what make November Saturdays unforgettable and what carry fans through years of mediocrity or championship contention alike. There must be mechanisms—formal or informal—that protect these traditions even as the sport evolves.
For Notre Dame and USC, the answer may lie in cooperation and shared commitment. They must make the rivalry a priority, building it into their schedules regardless of conference pressures. They must be willing to endure the risk that comes with playing a premier opponent every year in order to preserve the legacy that so many legends helped build. And fans must voice their support loudly and consistently, making it clear that this game is non-negotiable.
Because once a rivalry is lost, it is rarely regained. The memories fade, the narratives lose their weight, and the players who never got to compete in those matchups miss out on experiences that define careers. Rivalries are not just games—they are chapters in a story too rich to be rewritten.
So as college football continues to reshape itself into something bigger, broader, and perhaps more national than ever before, it must not forget what made it beloved in the first place. If it does, it risks becoming just another sport—professional in structure, sterile in emotion, and stripped of the traditions that made it great.
Notre Dame vs. USC deserves to endure—not as a contractual obligation, but as a centerpiece of what college football can and should be. Let us hope that amid all the changes, this rivalry, like the sport itself, remains rooted in passion, history, and pride.
