Candidates for BCS advocate certainly worthy of the concept

Even in an era of high unemployment, BCS officials could have trouble filling a job they want to create. According to an Associated Press report, the BCS has considered hiring a permanent advocate for its convoluted system of choosing a college football champion.

Until now, a rotation of conference commissioners has supplied part-time coordinators, but apparently, BCS officials believe their public-relations problems might require a full-time flak jacket. They could just scrap the whole system and adopt a playoff, but that would be too reasonable and too meritocratic. So with substance off the table, the BCS seeks a stylist.

The new employee can expect to spend a lot of time fending off pesky Congressional inquiries, batting away lawsuit threats from conferences perpetually relegated to the cheap seats and trying to make the nonsensical seem rational. Lehman Brothers alumni or private-jet-riding, bailout-seeking auto executives might not consider the heat of this job too intense, but none of them would make the ideal face of an organization.

The obvious candidates would be conference commissioners, past and present. But if the BCS had a taste for the obvious, it would have voted itself out of existence a long time ago.

So with the same sense of whimsy and a "just-because-we-want-it-this-way" attitude that seems to rule the BCS, we're offering a list of candidates:

Sarah Palin: She's available. She used to be a sportscaster. She knows how to use filler words and distracting facial gestures to obscure the fact that she has no real point. Of course, the presidential campaign didn't fully test her. Compared to the BCS, everything Palin said last year made sense.

Richard Heene could make people believe in the BCS. (Getty Images)

The Heene Family: Any pending felony charges notwithstanding, these people have demonstrated a real flair for promoting a farce. One CNN talking head, as the Heenes' big balloon came toward earth last week, suggested viewers might want to pray for the safety of little Falcon, who was nowhere near the scene. At least once, the Heenes should be able to convince the media that a deserving yet absent Boise State really, truly is in the national championship picture.

Jack Nicholson (as Colonel Jessup in A Few Good Men): Let's see. Deluded by his own power? Check. Overly fond of outdated traditions? Check. Certain that people want what he's providing, even if they pretend to be disgusted by it? Check.

"You don't want the truth, because deep down in places you don't talk about at tailgate parties, you want Notre Dame in that bowl; you need Notre Dame in that bowl." Perfect.

Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson or Paula Abdul: Think about how often the best singer has been voted off their show. Jennifer Hudson finished seventh. She is the Utah of American Idol.

Yet somehow, Idol maintains its audience. (At least Hudson got to compete in something approximating a playoff.) In fact, most reality TV has more credibility than college football's national title game. Those guys on The Bachelor never get married, but somehow, the show goes on. Surely, the people who sell this stuff could do wonders for the BCS, which picks a legitimate champion at least every other year.

Serena Williams: She, um, suggested that she wanted to shove a ball down a judge's throat at the U.S. Open. Then at the press conference, she said she didn't threaten the judge, or didn't remember doing it, or wouldn't have done it because she had never been in a fight in her life.

The explanation needed work, but this is how spin doctors are born. A natural capacity for delusion will be a prerequisite for this job.

Dan Snyder and Al Davis: Anything that diverts them from the NFL would be good for football.

Gwen Knapp is a sports columnist at the San Francisco Chronicle.