Alabama Should Be Kicked Out of College Football After 73-0 Bloodbath — This Wasn’t a Game, It Was Abuse

What happened in Tuscaloosa on Saturday night wasn’t football. It wasn’t sport. It wasn’t competition. It was a public beating on national television. Alabama’s 73-0 obliteration of Louisiana-Monroe wasn’t just a win — it was the kind of performance that raises serious questions about the very structure of college football itself. At what point does domination turn into something more dangerous? More disturbing? More shameful?

This wasn’t just the Crimson Tide flexing their muscles — it was a calculated demolition of an overmatched program with no hope of survival from the opening kickoff. Alabama’s victory margin was its largest since 1951. That’s over 70 years ago. They also racked up the most points in a single game since 1973. And they didn’t just do it in the context of a high-stakes rivalry or a playoff-deciding battle — they did it against a team from the Sun Belt that had no business being on the same field.

The score wasn’t 42-10. It wasn’t 55-3. It was seventy-three to nothing. Not a single point for Louisiana-Monroe. Not one field goal. Not one mercy touchdown. Just humiliation, drive after drive, whistle after whistle, with no sign of compassion, no interest in sportsmanship, and no regard for the humans on the other side of the ball. This wasn’t college football. This was abuse.

Alabama is no stranger to dominance. Under Nick Saban, they’ve turned into a machine — an institution built on five-star recruits, NFL-caliber athletes, and expectations of perfection. But even for them, this was excessive. There’s a difference between making a statement and leaving permanent psychological scars. And if you watched the final minutes of the fourth quarter, it became clear: Alabama didn’t just want to win — they wanted to erase their opponent.

This wasn’t a neutral beatdown. This came just one week after Alabama’s rare stumble in their opener, where they were embarrassed by Florida State. The headlines all week were about whether Alabama had lost its edge. Whether the dynasty was fading. Whether Saban had finally lost his touch. So what did they do? They scheduled Louisiana-Monroe and turned it into a public execution.

That’s the part that makes this so sinister. This wasn’t random. It was intentional. It was emotional. Alabama came into this game angry — and ULM became the sacrificial lamb. That’s not speculation. You could see it in the way the starters played deep into the game. You could see it in the play calling, even in garbage time. You could see it in the body language, the celebrations, the unwillingness to take the foot off the gas. This wasn’t about game reps. This was about revenge.

And who pays the price? A team full of 18-to-21-year-olds from a mid-major program that accepted a paycheck to help fund its athletic department. Let’s not forget the ugly truth here — Louisiana-Monroe was paid to take this beating. They didn’t schedule this game because they believed they could win. They scheduled it because these kinds of matchups keep their entire program afloat. But should the cost of survival be national humiliation?

Alabama, a program valued in the hundreds of millions, with a training facility that looks like an NFL compound, decided to take out their frustration on a team that plays in front of crowds a quarter the size. That’s not just unfair. It’s obscene.

College football has always tolerated these mismatches under the guise of tradition, warm-up games, and “tune-ups” before conference play. But the reality is, games like this are often legalized bullying — and what Alabama did Saturday night crossed a line that college football refuses to acknowledge even exists.

You can point to the scoreboard and say “they just executed.” You can point to the stats and say “ULM didn’t belong.” But that’s exactly the point. They didn’t belong. And everyone knew it — from the fans to the announcers to the players. And Alabama didn’t just exploit that mismatch — they weaponized it.

Some will argue that Alabama had a right to dominate. That the scoreboard is the only measure that matters. But that mindset is exactly what’s turning college football into an arms race where only the elite survive, and everyone else exists to be cannon fodder. If there’s no ceiling to the punishment, no mercy rule, no internal governor, then what are we doing here? What are we teaching these athletes? That winning isn’t enough — you have to destroy?

And what does it do to the game itself? How many fans were still watching in the fourth quarter of a 73-0 game? How many ULM players walked off that field thinking they’d ever want to play football again? How many Alabama backups felt good about scoring their 10th touchdown on a defense that had mentally checked out halfway through the third quarter?

This isn’t about participation trophies or softening the game. This is about basic sports ethics. There’s a difference between competition and cruelty. And Alabama crossed that line with a smile on its face.

Nick Saban is a genius, no doubt. A legend. A coach whose success speaks for itself. But legends are also supposed to model leadership. They’re supposed to know when to call off the dogs. They’re supposed to elevate the sport, not cheapen it. And on this night, Saban didn’t just fail to set that example — he torched it.

This wasn’t just a bad look for Alabama. It was a black eye for college football. It reinforced everything critics say about the sport: that it’s exploitative, that it prioritizes profit over parity, that it enables the strong to prey on the weak. That it’s less about student-athletes and more about national branding machines steamrolling whatever’s in their way.

If college football wants to evolve, games like this have to go. No more top-5 teams feasting on low-level programs for highlight-reel blowouts. No more padding schedules with teams that have no path to relevance. And if the NCAA won’t step in, maybe the fans should. Because if you bought a ticket to that game expecting a contest, you were sold a lie.

This wasn’t about football. This was about ego. About proving a point. About silencing critics by inflicting maximum damage on the most vulnerable opponent available. It was calculated, it was merciless, and it should make every athletic director in America rethink how these games are scheduled.

Alabama may have made history on Saturday night, but it came at a cost. Not to their record. Not to their playoff chances. But to their integrity — and to the integrity of a sport already on the edge of losing its soul.

There will be fans who defend it. There will be pundits who praise the dominance. There will be players who say, “It’s just business.” But deep down, everyone watching that game knew something didn’t feel right. That it went too far. That we crossed a line and didn’t even stop to acknowledge it.

Alabama won the game. But college football lost something bigger. And if no one’s willing to say it, then the silence is complicity.

Because what happened Saturday wasn’t a celebration of greatness. It was a cautionary tale.

And maybe — just maybe — Alabama should be suspended from scheduling these matchups ever again. Because what they did wasn’t about building a resume.

It was about breaking an opponent. And there’s no trophy for that.