Indiana and Miami are Playing for a National Championship. Here’s Why That’s Insane
If Indiana’s dominance has been somehow both shocking and inevitable, Miami has made the trek to the title game under a perpetual cloud of suspicion, one almost entirely of their own making. Skidding in as the 10th seed, there were strenuous (and well-founded) arguments against handing them a playoff bid at all. Like a lot of modern Miami teams, they are stacked with talent, frequently sloppy, awash in penalties, and prone to occasional bursts of turnovers at the foot-shootingest possible times. They also put most of their ACC schedule in a headlock, and ripped through a truly impressive slate of postseason wins (Texas A&M, Ohio State, and Ole Miss) to get here.
You probably don’t need to be told that pitting Indiana against Miami constitutes a high-magnitude culture clash, but the winning edge might not lie where you think. Indiana fans, not nationally known for being particularly rabid outside of basketball season, traveled in vast hordes to both Pasadena and Atlanta. (The game taking place in Miami is a happy coincidence for the Canes, by the way; the title game rotates among a handful of stadiums. Looking at the current weather report for Bloomington, the Hoosiers probably aren’t mad about it either.)
The teams themselves might find more to talk about. Their styles differ slightly; their cussedness does not. And if there’s one element common to both of these unlikely runs, it’s this: Both squads know very well what they do and don’t do, and have the resumes to back up their deep commitment to specific bits. If nothing happens for a quarter, well, they’re going to stick to the plan: Miami will run straight at you until you cry, and Indiana will poke and poke until they find the weak spot in your armor.
Indiana wants to run the ball and exploit “every inch of grass“ through the pass game. This is what most teams say they’d like to do. Indiana actually does it. The game plan has not changed for the entire season, and really shouldn’t: Two running backs rotating in the backfield behind a precision-engineered offensive line, receivers capable of stretching the field horizontally or vertically, and a quarterback capable of making every throw required. (The back-shoulder throw Mendoza deploys is, by the way, a thing of pure art.)
Miami won’t change anything, either. They got this far by the grace of a kaiju-class pair of edge rushers in Akheem Mesidor and Rueben Bain Jr., and by whittling down their offensive machine to include only the parts that work. A huge offensive line plays the cudgel. Wide receiver/punt returner/wildcat QB/all-purpose menace Malachi Toney is the scalpel, lining up all over the field hoping to break one tackle and score. Carson Beck, when playing as his truest self, makes three plays a game no one in their right mind would expect him to make. (Whether these plays will benefit Miami or Indiana is something we all get to find out together.)
One final stat to ponder: While time of possession doesn’t always directly correlate with victory, it does hint at something about a team’s general disposition. Miami and Indiana rank fifth and sixth nationally in T.O.P., indicating yet another similarity: They both prefer to dictate pace. Which boa constrictor can swallow more of the other first? What better place than South Florida to find out?
