Question: What do you call it when colleges play a game of musical chairs inside a large revolving door just outside Madison Square Garden?
Answer: the Big East Conference.
The game goes on, and so does the Big East, in one form or another.
Because of the game, nobody knows what the Big East will look like one day — like, day after tomorrow. Because of the uncertainty, nobody knows what will happen to other leagues and other schools, especially East Carolina.
Some vocal ECU supporters envision Big East membership as a grand prize that would affirm the program's arrival in an elite conference with a contractual path to major bowls. That's why ECU applied to the fluctuating Big East in September and why folks often write the Big East office, happily applying pressure while contemplating a departure from Conference USA.
Other factors pose other problems, however.
The Big East doesn't seem nearly so elite after the recent exodus of traditional powers Pitt, Syracuse and West Virginia prompted Texas Christian to cancel its impending membership.
The Big East vows to keep old schools around through two more football seasons.
Louisville tried to join the Big 12 at the moment coach Rick Pitino was lobbying the Big East to add Memphis and other basketball heavies. Louisville probably will try again. Connecticut would love to join the ACC, which will grow to 16 teams if Notre Dame becomes No. 15.
Rutgers would salivate over an ACC invitation.
If the Bowl Championship Series follows through on a trial balloon and shrinks to only a national-title game, automatic BCS qualifying for the richest bowls would disappear. That would dilute the incentive for far-flung schools (Boise State, San Diego State, Southern Methodist, Houston, Central Florida) to execute their Big East membership plans, which could leave the Big East in an even bigger mess.
Navy has agreed to become another football-only member (and the Big East's sixth addition this month in pursuit of 12 football teams), but Navy might not compete on Big East fields until 2014 or later.
Terry Holland, the ECU athletics director who grew up nearby in Clinton, assesses the moving targets daily. His basic goals remain clear — finding the best future home, competitively and economically — but the dream neighborhood isn't as obvious and immediate as some fans imagine.
C-USA and the Mountain West are involved in merger talks, which could produce a model closer to Holland's vision, with an expanded East Division and football title game. Because school presidents prefer silence during the negotiations, Holland refrains from elaborating.
He wants to broaden exposure while preserving Saturday football (rather than chasing midweek TV slots). For budget reasons, he wants teams in all sports to travel the shortest feasible distances.
ECU's historic drive for athletics visibility began nearly 50 years ago, steered by Chancellor Leo Jenkins and fueled by the public university's hunger for public recognition.
The Pirates chose football as the primary vehicle, which ran counter to the state's basketball addiction. The strategy blended the combustible elements of a successful athletics uprising: the spectacle of intense Saturday competition unfolding against the backdrop of socially spectacular tailgating. Nothing opens the donor wallet like winning the party.
At different moments across the decades, ECU proved its point. The school used a loyal following to secure a regular date at N.C. State, which needed revenue to pay off stadium debt.
The 1991 team (11-1) rallied past State in the Peach Bowl and nailed down the No. 9 spot in the final AP poll. The Pirates recently won consecutive C-USA titles under Skip Holtz. Again this season, ECU averaged more home fans (50,012) than every school outside the automatic BCS leagues except BYU, more than every Big East school except West Virginia and more than seven ACC schools.
That settles the football gate argument, but nearly everything about the Big East and the eventual landscape remains unsettled.
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