There was a time when college football wasn't just about making it to the NFL.
It wasn't just about NIL deals, transfer portal announcements, or building a personal brand on social media. Those things didn't dominate every conversation. Instead, the focus was on something much bigger than any individual player.
It was about the team.
It was about the name on the front of the jersey, not the one on the back.
It was about leaving your program better than you found it.
Somewhere along the way, college football changed.
To be clear, I don't blame the players. If someone offered most of us hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of dollars to change jobs, we'd have a difficult decision to make too. Players deserve to benefit from their talent, and NIL has created opportunities that previous generations never had.
The transfer portal has also given athletes a chance to find better situations, whether that's more playing time, a better scheme, or simply a fresh start.
Those aren't inherently bad things. But let's also be honest about what we've lost.
Every offseason now feels like NFL free agency. Instead of talking about returning starters or offseason development, fans spend months wondering who's entering the transfer portal next. Coaches are forced to recruit their own roster every single year, and it's become increasingly difficult to build the kind of culture that once defined college football's greatest programs.
The sport has become more transactional than relational.
Instead of asking, "How can I help this team win a championship?" the conversation often becomes, "What's best for me?"
Again, I understand why. But understanding something doesn't mean you can't miss what came before it.
One quote from former Alabama running back Trent Richardson recently reminded me exactly what made college football so special, and why I hope Alabama is helping bring some of that culture back.
Richardson, who played for the Crimson Tide from 2009 through 2011, wasn't reminiscing about his stats or the NFL Draft. He wasn't talking about his Heisman Trophy finish or becoming a first-round pick.
He was talking about responsibility.
Appearing on The Dynasty podcast, Richardson shared that before declaring for the NFL Draft after the 2011 season, he wanted to make sure Alabama's running back room was ready without him. He recalled Eddie Lacey encouraging him to leave for the NFL, but Richardson wasn't ready to make that decision until he knew Lacey was prepared to carry the torch.
That speaks volumes.
Richardson described Alabama as "our baby" and "home." He explained how Mark Ingram handed the position to him, and how he wanted to leave it in Eddie Lacey's hands the same way. He wasn't just protecting a position group. He was protecting a standard.
He understood that wearing an Alabama uniform meant becoming part of something much bigger than yourself.
That's what made those Nick Saban teams so different.
Every player viewed himself as a steward of the program.
Mark Ingram passed the torch to Trent Richardson. Richardson passed it to Eddie Lacey. Lacey helped usher in T.J. Yeldon . Then came Derrick Henry . Najee Harris . Josh Jacobs . Jahmyr Gibbs . And so on, and so on.
The names changed, but the standard didn't.
Those players weren't simply trying to make it to Sundays.
They wanted to leave Alabama stronger than they found it.
That's why the Crimson Tide continued winning championships long after one star left for the NFL. The talent mattered, of course, but the culture mattered even more.
Each generation prepared the next. Each leader developed the player behind him. Each departing star wanted to know the program would remain in good hands.
That mindset feels increasingly rare in today's college football landscape.
Now, players often transfer if they're not guaranteed a starting job. Some leave after one season if another school offers a larger NIL package. Coaches spend as much time managing roster retention as they do preparing for opponents.
The rules have changed.
The incentives have changed.
And because of that, the culture has changed.
But maybe, not everywhere.
One of the things that has quietly encouraged me about Alabama's current roster is hearing players talk about competition instead of running from it.
Look at quarterback Trent Seaborn.
Despite knowing Alabama's quarterback room is loaded with talent, Seaborn hasn't backed away. If anything, he's embraced the challenge while actively helping recruit even more elite prospects to Tuscaloosa.
That isn't the mindset of someone worried only about himself. That's the mindset of someone who wants to build something bigger than his own career.
We've seen similar comments from current players who continue emphasizing team goals over individual recognition. That's not something that happens accidentally.
Culture is intentional. It's built every day. And it only survives when players buy into something greater than themselves.
That's why Richardson's comments resonated with me so much. He wasn't talking about football. He was talking about legacy. He understood that every Alabama player is simply borrowing the jersey for a few years before handing it to the next generation.
The uniform doesn't belong to them. The program doesn't revolve around one player. They're simply entrusted with carrying the tradition forward.
That's a perspective that feels increasingly uncommon in modern college football.
Maybe that's inevitable.
The sport isn't going back to what it was in 2009. NIL isn't disappearing. The transfer portal isn't going anywhere. College football will continue evolving, and schools will have to adapt. But adapting doesn't mean abandoning your identity.
You can embrace the new era while still valuing loyalty. You can support players earning NIL money while also celebrating those who choose commitment over convenience. You can appreciate the transfer portal while still believing that staying, competing, mentoring younger teammates, and leaving your program stronger matters.
That's the balance championship programs have to find.
And that's why I find myself hopeful when I hear stories like Trent Richardson's. Because greatness has never been built on individual talent alone. Championships are built by players willing to sacrifice for each other. They're built by leaders who prepare the next generation. They're built by teammates who care as much about who comes after them as they do about themselves.
That's what Alabama was built on under Nick Saban.
And if the Crimson Tide can continue attracting players who think that way, even in the middle of college football's new reality, I truly believe Alabama won't just compete for championships.
It'll continue preserving something that much of the sport seems to have forgotten.
After all, talent may win games.
But culture wins generations.
