Urban Meyer Wrongly Criticizes Georgia for Playing Nine Home Games in 2025, Ignoring Common Scheduling Practices Across College Football
Urban Meyer, the former national championship-winning head coach at Florida and Ohio State, found himself back in the spotlight recently—this time not for his coaching acumen, but for an ill-informed and misguided jab at the University of Georgia’s 2025 football schedule. Speaking during a media appearance, Meyer mocked Georgia for scheduling nine home games during the 2025 season, implying that such a move reflects a lack of competitive ambition or courage. However, a closer look reveals that Meyer’s criticism is not only factually shallow but also fails to acknowledge widespread scheduling practices used by most Power Five programs, including those he once led.
Georgia’s 2025 schedule includes nine home games, a configuration that is not unheard of, nor unprecedented in the modern landscape of college football. The Bulldogs’ home slate features traditional SEC matchups, key non-conference games, and a neutral-site contest that annually takes place in Jacksonville against Florida. With the 2024 expansion of the SEC and the elimination of divisional play, teams have faced logistical challenges in crafting balanced and revenue-sustaining schedules. Georgia, like many others, made choices that ensured competitive fairness, fiscal stability, and fan engagement. Meyer’s implication that Georgia is somehow ducking competition reveals more about his misunderstanding of current scheduling dynamics than anything about the Bulldogs’ intentions.
To understand why Meyer’s mockery rings hollow, one needs to consider the complexity behind college football scheduling. Every year, athletic directors must juggle conference obligations, long-standing rivalries, contractual home-and-home series, and financial considerations. Playing nine home games isn’t about avoiding road challenges—it’s about maximizing home revenue, minimizing travel fatigue, and maintaining program momentum. For powerhouse programs like Georgia, every home game generates millions in ticket sales, concessions, and local economic activity. With no divisions and only eight conference games in a 16-team SEC, there is flexibility in how schools organize their non-conference opponents. If that results in nine home games in a given year, it’s typically a rotational consequence, not a strategic avoidance of competition.
It’s also worth noting that Urban Meyer has himself benefited from similar scheduling models. During his time at Ohio State, the Buckeyes routinely stacked early-season home games against lesser opponents and occasionally had years with as many as eight home contests. That strategy was not questioned when it helped his teams cruise into College Football Playoff discussions. Moreover, during Meyer’s tenure at Florida, the Gators almost always played seven or more games in Gainesville, including warm-up games against mid-major or FCS teams—often derided as “cupcakes” by the media, but never openly mocked by Meyer when they benefited his programs.
The 2025 Georgia schedule includes notable matchups that deserve recognition. In addition to the annual rivalry game against Florida in Jacksonville—a neutral site that Meyer himself once called “one of the greatest traditions in college football”—the Bulldogs face a challenging SEC slate. The conference will likely send multiple teams to New Year’s Six bowl games and the expanded 12-team College Football Playoff. Dismissing Georgia’s schedule simply based on the number of home games overlooks the quality of the opposition and the rigors of SEC competition. Road trips to Knoxville and Oxford or battles in Athens against LSU or Texas offer more than enough tests for any elite program.
The irony in Meyer’s comment is underscored by the fact that scheduling nine home games is not an anomaly exclusive to Georgia. Programs across the country, from Alabama to USC to Michigan, have adopted similar scheduling in recent years, particularly when the calendar and rotating conference obligations allow. Even the College Football Playoff selection committee has publicly stated that strength of schedule is evaluated more holistically, emphasizing the quality of opponents over the location of games. The idea that playing on the road inherently validates a team’s toughness is outdated. What matters is the competitiveness of the opponents, the balance of the schedule over multiple seasons, and performance in key matchups. By these metrics, Georgia has been elite.
Since Kirby Smart took over as Georgia’s head coach in 2016, the Bulldogs have made it a priority to challenge themselves out of conference. They’ve scheduled home-and-home series with the likes of Clemson, Texas, UCLA, Florida State, and Ohio State. The willingness to face top-tier competition is evident, and when the calendar lines up, some years feature more home games than others. That’s a product of negotiation, logistics, and pre-existing contracts—not a deliberate attempt to manipulate rankings or dodge tough games. Meyer’s framing of the issue seems to ignore this reality.
Another dimension worth considering is the player experience. Nine home games provide Georgia athletes with more opportunities to play in front of their families, friends, and supportive fans. For many, these are once-in-a-lifetime moments. It also helps with team cohesion, game preparation, and injury management. The grueling nature of travel in the SEC can wear down even the most well-conditioned athletes. Strategic scheduling ensures that players have the best chance to stay healthy and perform at their peak, especially with the expanded playoff format placing greater demands on roster durability.
Urban Meyer’s comments also fail to recognize the evolution of the sport itself. With the introduction of NIL, the transfer portal, and playoff expansion, the emphasis is no longer on traditional notions of grit determined by venue. Today’s success is about adaptation, player management, and winning consistently against top opponents. Georgia, under Smart, has become the gold standard in recruiting, development, and performance. In a span of three years, they’ve won multiple national championships, sent a fleet of players to the NFL, and redefined modern defensive dominance. If anything, Meyer’s dig at Georgia may have less to do with scheduling and more to do with lingering rivalry resentment and a desire to stay relevant in the commentary world.
Public reactions to Meyer’s jab were swift and largely critical. Fans, analysts, and former players pointed out the hypocrisy and selective memory embedded in his critique. Many reminded him of the cupcake-laden schedules his teams enjoyed or the off-field controversies that eventually tainted his coaching legacy. Others used the moment to highlight the lack of uniformity in how different programs are judged by former coaches and media pundits. It raises a broader question about how narratives in college football are shaped and who controls them. When someone like Meyer, with national media reach, issues a flawed take, it risks misleading fans and undermining the complexity of program management.
Georgia’s track record speaks louder than any misguided critique. They are a perennial playoff contender, consistently produce NFL talent, and have become one of the most formidable programs in the sport. Whether they play six, seven, eight, or nine home games in a given season should be irrelevant when the quality of their opposition and the results on the field are considered. The 2025 season will offer another stage for Georgia to prove themselves, and history suggests they’ll rise to the challenge.
Urban Meyer’s swipe at Georgia’s 2025 schedule misses the mark entirely. It’s a critique rooted more in perception than reality, more in personal bias than objective analysis. The modern college football landscape demands flexibility, strategic foresight, and balance. Georgia has exhibited all three while continuing to compete at the highest level. If Meyer wants to remain a voice of authority in college football commentary, he would be better served by embracing nuance over nostalgia and facts over jabs. Because in this instance, his take on Georgia wasn’t just wrong—it was completely out of bounds.
