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🎤 QUICK START ✍️

📺 Missed opportunity. NBC failed to capture Ben Johnson's postgame handshake with Sean McVay after Sunday's Bears-Rams overtime thriller, drawing criticism from viewers who wanted to see if the Bears coach would repeat his icy interaction with Matt LaFleur from the Wild Card round. The NFL's social media accounts eventually showed the standard, respectful handshake that reasonable people expected all along.

📰 Convenient timing. CBS aired its controversial 60 Minutes El Salvador prison segment Sunday night directly against the Rams-Bears Divisional Round game, burying the story that had been shelved for weeks by new editor-in-chief Bari Weiss. The piece received zero promotion and aired while 50 million viewers watched NBC, ending weeks of bad press for CBS News in the most efficient way possible.

⚓ Typo torpedo. The Bills wrote that Sean McDermott did "an admiral job" in their firing statement, prompting ESPN’s Benjamin Solak to note that using "admiral" instead of "admirable" was "a brutal mistake. Truly a captain offense." The typo remained uncorrected for hours after posting, making McDermott's 106-58 record seem positively seaworthy.

🧠 Memory lapse. Bill Simmons claimed the Seahawks have never won a Super Bowl while discussing potential matchups on his podcast, apparently forgetting Seattle's 43-8 destruction of Peyton Manning and the Broncos in Super Bowl XLVIII. Simmons was so focused on the Malcolm Butler interception that cost Seattle Super Bowl XLIX, he completely erased their championship victory one year earlier.

🎙️ Playoff perfection. Joe Buck and Troy Aikman earned widespread praise for their Patriots-Texans broadcast, with viewers crediting their "calmness and control" that makes big games the main event. Aikman's blunt criticism of C.J. Stroud showcased his "give no Fs" era, providing a steady hand one day after Tony Romo's latest mixed bag.

🏈 TV to turf? The Broncos could theoretically sign quarterbacks currently working in television after Bo Nix's season-ending injury, with Drew Brees and Cam Newton among eligible free agents. There's just one minor issue: Brees' right arm "does not work" anymore.

🚨 LEADING OFF 🚨

In defense of Terry McAulay (and rules analysts generally)

Awful Announcing’s Drew Lerner made the case this week that it's time to retire NFL rules analysts, arguing the role has morphed from occasional clarification into an omnipresent crutch that exists primarily to validate officials and diffuse outrage. He's got a point about the proliferation problem — what used to be reserved for genuinely complex calls now gets deployed for routine penalties that don't need ex-refs weighing in.

Drew's diagnosis is accurate. Rules analysts have become overbearing. Broadcasts spend too much time on officiating minutiae instead of game analysis. The role often exists to validate rather than clarify. But there's a version of this position that actually works, and Terry McAulay proves it.

Start with credentials. McAulay spent 20 years as an NFL official, including 17 as a referee — one of only six refs to work three Super Bowls. He officiated seven conference championship games. Before joining the NFL, he worked the 1998 national championship game between Nebraska and Tennessee. The man knows officiating at the highest level because he did so for two decades.

More importantly, McAulay uses that expertise to hold officials accountable rather than carry water for them. Drew's core complaint is that rules analysts exist to "diffuse outrage and deflect accountability," pointing to the Walt Anderson-Mike Chase contradiction on that Bucs-Panthers pass interference call as evidence that even league officiating executives can't get on the same page.

McAulay operates differently. Two weeks ago, on Sunday Night Football's Ravens-Steelers finale, officials flagged Zay Flowers for an illegal blindside block on the opening play, wiping out 21 yards of a Derrick Henry run. McAulay didn't hem and haw or suggest it was a tough call. He explained why it was wrong:

That kind of immediate, authoritative pushback is valuable precisely because most rules analysts won't do it. Awful Announcing named McAulay the top rules analyst of 2025 specifically because he's willing to call bad officiating bad officiating while others equivocate.

Drew's right that broadcasts lean on rules analysts too heavily, treating every moderately close call like it requires expert testimony. But the solution isn't to eliminate the position — it's to use it correctly. McAulay on NBC and Prime Video doesn't pop in after obvious roughing-the-passers calls to validate the refs' calls. Sunday Night Football producer Fred Gaudelli hired McAulay specifically because he wanted someone fast enough to keep pace with the broadcast and confident enough to disagree with calls when warranted.

Drew argues we'd be better off with play-by-play announcers and former players handling rules explanations themselves. That raises a legitimate question about whether the role is necessary. But as Stu Holden articulated in response, even former pros need years of studying the rules and seeing different scenarios before they feel competent to explain them. The intricacies of what constitutes a catch, what replay officials are actually looking at during reviews, which penalties are reviewable and which aren't — that's institutional knowledge that takes decades to accumulate.

McAulay has it. Mike Chase, Dean Blandino, and Gene Steratore might abuse the platform to run defense for officials. But when a crucial fourth-quarter call in a playoff game goes to review, having someone who actually refereed three Super Bowls explaining what the replay official is examining and what standard of evidence applies beats having Cris Collinsworth guess at the rulebook.

The role is over-deployed, sure. But eliminating it entirely means losing the rare rules analyst who actually adds value when it matters.

Consider what NBC loses if they eliminate McAulay from Sunday Night Football. When a bang-bang play goes to replay in the fourth quarter of a tight game, Mike Tirico and Cris Collinsworth are left speculating about what New York is looking at, which camera angles matter, and whether there's "indisputable visual evidence" to overturn. McAulay can walk viewers through the actual process because he's been the referee in that position, because he knows what replay officials are trained to examine, and because he understands which elements of a play are reviewable under which circumstances.

That expertise matters most on the obscure rules that don't come up every week. The difference between a blindside block and a legal block. When offensive pass interference is reviewable versus when it isn't, what constitutes "going to the ground" in the catch process? These aren't rules that former quarterbacks or linebackers necessarily know cold, even after years in the league. They're the kind of technical details that officials spend entire careers mastering.

Drew's larger point about broadcasts prioritizing officiating over game analysis deserves attention. Viewers tune in to watch football, not to hear extended debates about whether a receiver maintained possession through the ground. The obsession with getting every call right has turned officiating into its own subplot, sometimes overshadowing the actual competition. That's a real problem, and networks bear responsibility for feeding that dynamic.

But that's an argument for discipline in how rules analysts get used, not for eliminating the position. The best broadcasts use McAulay sparingly — on the genuinely complicated calls where his insight adds clarity, not on every holding penalty or obvious personal foul. When NBC deployed him correctly during that Ravens-Steelers game, he enhanced the viewing experience by quickly explaining why a controversial call was wrong, then got out of the way so Tirico and Collinsworth could get back to analyzing the game.

The real issue isn't whether rules analysts should exist. It's whether networks can resist the temptation to overuse them and whether they're willing to hire analysts who'll actually challenge officials rather than defend them. McAulay represents the ideal version of the role. Getting rid of it entirely because most networks employ the wrong people in the wrong way would be throwing out the one guy who does it right.

🎺 AROUND AA 🎺

ESPN's 4K broadcasts have a feature that feels almost subversive in 2026: no commercials. During the three-and-a-half-minute TV timeouts that plague modern sports, the feed simply shows a wide stadium shot with minimal sound. No prescription drug ads. No cheeseburgers drowning in cheese. No sportsbook deposit bonuses. Just silence.

It's jarring at first. Your brain isn't trained for this. You're conditioned to expect constant stimulation, so the sudden quiet feels wrong. What do you do? Scroll your phone? Talk to people? The eerie calm takes adjustment.

But soon enough, you come to love it. You watch fans walking to concessions, peek at on-field entertainment during timeouts, and listen to PA announcements. It's almost as good as being at the game. You'll see friends asking strangers for photos, someone carrying too many beers that are bound to spill everywhere. It's peaceful. It's present. It's free from capitalism's constant overtures.

Awful Announcing's Ben Koo reached out to ESPN, expecting to hear about technical limitations. Instead, the network confirmed the commercial-free experience is intentional. "These 4K productions are intended to make fans feel like they are at the event," ESPN said. "During breaks, we show a wide shot of the stadium, which is supposed to feel like you are there in person. There are no ads to preserve that experience."

How long will this last? The Athletic and Netflix once beat their chests about being ad-free before charging more to keep it that way. Even RedZone now has commercials. It's probably only a matter of time before the suits find another way to extract a few more dollars or subject viewers to another hour of ads per game.

Click to read the full piece on why ESPN's commercial-free 4K broadcasts represent a brief reprieve from the relentless march of sports media capitalism.

👏 INDUSTRY INSIGHTS 🗣️

• ESPN announced a six-episode docuseries chronicling Nick Saban's life and career, featuring hundreds of hours of never-before-seen footage from Alabama, LSU, Miami Dolphins, and Michigan State. The series will draw on over 30 hours of interviews with Saban and more than 80 with former players, coaches, and rivals.

• Nielsen revealed the top-10 college football viewing markets, with Birmingham topping the list, followed by Columbus and Dayton. Eight of the ten markets can claim an SEC school, with only Ohio's two cities breaking the southern stranglehold. Atlanta was the first market to host an NFL franchise at No. 7, proving SEC country watches college football at significantly higher rates than other regions.

• NBC removed ice dancing analyst Gabriella Papadakis from 2026 Winter Olympics coverage weeks before the event after her new memoir slammed former partner Guillaume Cizeron.

• The ESPYs will move to New York City for the first time since 1999 to sync with Fanatics Fest in July, abandoning Los Angeles after 24 years. The awards show is scheduled for July 15, the day after the MLB All-Star Game, while Fanatics Fest runs July 16-19.

📣 NOTABLE QUOTABLES 🗣️

"I knew I was out on a limb. I had to find out if the fan base was dead or on life support." - Indiana coach Curt Cignetti reflecting on his viral "Google me" press conference ahead of Monday's national championship game, explaining he was asked the same recruiting question "for about the 14th time" when he fired back with his now-famous line.

"Have you guys seen this trend that's going around on Twitter where people just tweet nonsense sentences all mashed together with weird words and stuff? That's how I felt listening to Tony Romo." - Barstool's Big Cat describing Romo's Bills-Broncos broadcast, with PFT Commenter adding "Tony does not give a f*ck anymore" after the CBS analyst called Josh Allen "Mahomes" and delivered a series of confusing observations.

"There is no way I'm going to extend him. I don't want to make the mistake the Dolphins did with Tua, Kyler Murray." - Dan Patrick arguing C.J. Stroud cost himself millions with his four-turnover playoff disaster against the Patriots, saying "if you have average quarterback play, we have the Texans playing against the Broncos with a real possibility of going to the Super Bowl."

"They don't know their a** from a handful of sand when it comes to what a football player is." - Nick Saban dismissing recruiting rankings on The Pat McAfee Show, prompting On3 founder Shannon Terry to post receipts showing that Saban's example of Josh Jacobs receiving "no stars" was inaccurate — Jacobs was actually a four-star recruit ranked 92nd nationally.

️‍🔥 THE CLOSER 🔥

College football's Monday night problem has no good solution

The College Football Playoff National Championship kicked off Monday at 7:30 p.m. ET, continuing a tradition that began in 2014 and has frustrated fans ever since. Games routinely stretch past midnight on the East Coast. Viewership craters as the clock hits 11 p.m. Parents put kids to bed before the trophy presentation. People with Tuesday morning jobs face an impossible choice between watching college football's biggest game and getting adequate sleep.

The complaints are valid. The solutions are nonexistent.

College football didn't choose Monday night because it's optimal. The sport chose Monday night because every other option is worse. Understanding why requires examining what happens when you try to schedule the biggest game in college football during a weekend the NFL owns completely.

Saturday is a non-starter

The NFL's divisional round owns Saturday playoff weekends. Two games, typically kicking off around 4:30 p.m. and 8 p.m. ET, are drawing audiences north of 35-40 million viewers each. The league spent decades building that inventory and isn't giving it up, so college football can avoid a Monday night slot.

Even if the NFL agreed — which it won't — college football would be committing ratings suicide. Scheduling the national championship against NFL playoff games means competing for viewers during the sport's highest-stakes moments. The CFP would lose that battle decisively.

A Saturday afternoon window doesn't solve anything either. The 3:30 p.m. ET slot runs directly into the NFL's late playoff game. Fans watching the early NFL window aren't switching over at halftime to catch the CFP kickoff. They're staying for the second playoff game, which starts right as college football's title game hits its stride.

Sunday creates the same problem, only worse

The NFL's conference championship games dominate the Sunday following the divisional round. Two games, both drawing 45-50 million viewers, are determining who goes to the Super Bowl. That's not a competitive landscape college football can win, and it's not a window the sport should want.

A Sunday night kickoff after the NFL finishes creates its own issues. The AFC and NFC Championship Games run long. Weather delays, overtime, extended replay reviews — conference title games regularly stretch past 8 p.m. ET. College football can't schedule a 7 or 8 p.m. kickoff without risking a scenario where the national championship starts while the NFC Championship Game is in the fourth quarter.

The NFL also isn't inclined to help. The league benefits from owning the entire weekend. Letting college football claim Sunday night without competition gives the CFP a clean window, which undermines the NFL's argument that it needs exclusive access to January playoff weekends.

Monday night is the only option that makes strategic sense

Which leaves Monday. It's not convenient. It forces East Coast fans to stay up late on a work night. It creates logistical nightmares for schools, players, and traveling fans. It reduces the potential audience because people make rational decisions about sleep versus sports.

But Monday night gives college football something it can't get any other day: the spotlight to itself. No NFL competition. No other major sporting events. Just the national championship, with every sports fan's attention focused on one game.

That matters more than convenient timing, especially for a sport trying to justify its importance in a landscape dominated by professional football.

The NFL proved that fans adjust schedules for marquee games regardless of timing. Thursday Night Football succeeded despite universal complaints about Thursday games. International games at 9:30 a.m. ET still draws solid audiences. Monday Night Football remains appointment viewing even as cord-cutting erodes traditional TV numbers.

The CFP title game works on Monday night for the same reason — it's important enough that fans who care will watch regardless of inconvenience. Ratings consistently prove this. The 2025 championship between Ohio State and Notre Dame drew 22.1 million viewers despite ending after midnight. The 2024 championship between Michigan and Washington drew 25.1 million viewers. The 2023 title game between Georgia and TCU pulled 22.6 million. These aren't small audiences making sacrifices because they have no other options. They're massive audiences proving the game matters enough to prioritize.

Earlier kickoffs don't solve the fundamental problem

College football could start earlier. A 6 p.m. ET kickoff would help East Coast viewers and still give West Coast fans time to get home from work. The game would end closer to 10 p.m. rather than midnight, which would be a meaningful improvement for people who need to function on Tuesday morning.

But earlier kickoffs create different problems. Prime time advertising commands premium rates. A 6 p.m. start means the crucial fourth quarter airs around 9 p.m., rather than 10:30-11 p.m., which affects how networks sell inventory. Sponsors pay more to reach viewers during traditional prime time windows, and moving the game earlier costs revenue.

West Coast audiences also suffer from earlier starts. A 6 p.m. ET kickoff means 3 p.m. PT, which assumes fans on the Pacific coast can leave work early or watch from the office. That's not realistic for most people, and college football can't afford to alienate an entire time zone to make the game more convenient for the East Coast.

The sport tried Sunday night windows during the BCS era. The 2006 championship between Texas and USC kicked off at 8 p.m. ET and became one of the most-watched college football games ever. But that was before the NFL expanded its playoff schedule and claimed January weekends as exclusive property. The landscape changed, and college football's options shrank accordingly.

The real problem isn't Monday night

The actual issue is that college football's biggest game happens during a stretch of the calendar that the NFL owns completely. From early January through the Super Bowl, professional football dominates the sports landscape. College football finishing its season in mid-January means competing for attention during the NFL's highest-stakes weeks.

The 12-team playoff format extends the season even further, pushing the championship game deeper into NFL playoff territory. Quarterfinals and semifinals already compete with wild-card and divisional-round weekends. The title game falls in the window between conference championships and the Super Bowl, the only breathing room the sport has.

Moving the championship game earlier in the calendar creates different problems. Ending the season before Christmas means competing with bowl games and NFL regular-season finales. Playing the title game on New Year's weekend runs into the traditional Rose Bowl, Fiesta Bowl, and other major bowls that built college football's postseason tradition.

The expanded playoff was supposed to solve these scheduling conflicts by creating more inventory and more flexibility. Instead, it amplified them. More playoff games mean more weeks competing with the NFL. More rounds mean less room to maneuver. More teams mean longer breaks between games, stretching the season and pushing the championship further into January.

There are no good options, only less bad ones

College football can keep the Monday night championship and accept that East Coast fans will complain about late finishes. The sport can move to Saturday, and watch viewership crater against NFL playoff competition. It can try Sunday and hope the conference championship games don't run long enough to create conflicts.

Or it can acknowledge what every option reveals: college football's postseason exists in a window that professional football controls, and no amount of creative scheduling changes can change that fundamental reality.

Monday night isn't the solution college football wanted. It's the compromise the sport accepted because every alternative creates bigger problems. Fans who stayed up past midnight to watch the national championship have every right to be frustrated. But the frustration should be directed at the structural issue, not the symptom.

College football needed a window without NFL competition. Monday night was the only one available. The sport took it, built a tradition around it, and now lives with the consequences of playing its biggest game on a night when half the country has to work the next morning.

That's not going to change unless the NFL suddenly decides it doesn't need exclusive access to January weekends, or college football moves its entire postseason earlier in the calendar, or the sport admits that competing with the NFL is better than forcing fans to choose between sleep and sports.

None of those options seems likely. Which means Monday night championships are here to stay, and the complaints will continue, and college football will keep pointing out that every alternative is worse.

They're not wrong. They're just stuck.