Are Targeting Calls Ruining College Football?

Few rules in modern sports inspire as much confusion and controversy as college football's targeting penalty. Brought in to protect players from concussions and spinal injuries, targeting was meant to safeguard the game's most vulnerable athletes. Yet, over a decade after its introduction in 2013, many fans, players, and coaches are asking whether the rule, once hailed as a landmark in player safety, has become a threat to the very spirit of college football.

The Rule That Changed Everything

The NCAA defines targeting as any forcible contact with the crown of the helmet, or any hit to a defenseless player's head or neck area. On paper, it's a necessary deterrent in an era increasingly aware of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and head trauma. In practice, however, its enforcement has become one of the sport's most polarizing issues.

The rule carries an automatic 15-yard penalty and ejection, often sidelining a team's best defensive player for the remainder of the game

or even the first half of the next one if the call occurs before halftime. Worse still, these penalties are frequently decided in slow-motion replay, with officials dissecting frame-by-frame footage that can transform what once looked like a routine football hit into a game-changing expulsion.

The Human Cost of a Split-Second

Consider the 2021 Fiesta Bowl, when Ohio State's star linebacker James Skalski was ejected for targeting after a helmet-to-helmet collision that occurred during a routine tackle. Clemson lost its defensive leader early, and the game's momentum shifted. Similarly, in 2023, Iowa's Cooper DeJean, one of the most disciplined safeties in the Big Ten, faced a borderline call that wiped out a key turnover—leaving fans and analysts debating whether intent or physics should matter more.

In both cases, the players weren't head-hunting; they were playing instinctive, split-second defense. As former coach Urban Meyer once put it, "You can't ask a linebacker to change the laws of motion." Football is, by nature, a collision sport. Players train to hit hard, close fast, and protect their teammates. When a defender lowers his head by a few degrees, it can be the difference between textbook form and expulsion.

Replay Review: Fair or Fatal?

The NCAA's attempt to "get it right" through replay has ironically made things worse. Review officials are required to confirm all elements of targeting beyond doubt—yet the standard of "indisputable evidence" seems to vary wildly. One week, a player is ejected for brushing a receiver's helmet; the next, a nearly identical hit goes unpunished.

This inconsistency fuels fan frustration and, more importantly, undermines credibility. When viewers can't predict how rules will be applied, the outcome begins to feel arbitrary. Analysts on ESPN's College GameDay have routinely highlighted the "gray area" of targeting enforcement, calling for a more tiered approach: differentiating between malicious hits and incidental contact.

The Emotional Fallout

Targeting doesn't just cost teams field position; it can derail seasons and reputations. In 2022, Oklahoma linebacker Danny Stutsman was tossed in the first quarter of a crucial rivalry game against Texas. The Sooners' defense unraveled, and fans erupted on social media, blasting officials for "ruining" the game. For the players themselves, the emotional impact is profound: being branded as "dirty" or "reckless" for what may have been an honest mistake.

Even coaches, normally diplomatic about officiating, have voiced concern. Nick Saban, known for his emphasis on fundamentals, has argued for "a better balance between safety and fairness." He's not alone. Conference commissioners have floated proposals to classify targeting as either "flagrant" (resulting in ejection) or "incidental" (resulting in a penalty without ejection).

The Spirit of the Game

At its heart, the targeting debate isn't about whether player safety matters; it's about how we define football itself. The game has always thrived on controlled aggression, discipline, and sacrifice. When officiating turns that into hesitation, defenders start to pull up, tackles become tentative, and the game's physical rhythm breaks down.

Modern football already contends with shortened attention spans, NIL drama, and the chaos of conference realignment. The last thing it needs is a rule that alienates both athletes and audiences. When fans spend more time debating officiating than celebrating athleticism, something vital is lost.

The Way Forward

Few suggest scrapping the rule entirely, as it has saved players from severe injuries. But reform is overdue. A two-tiered system could preserve safety while restoring fairness. Incidental contact could result in a 15-yard penalty without ejection, while flagrant hits may still warrant dismissal and review. Additionally, more transparent communication from replay officials explaining why a call was upheld would go a long way toward restoring public trust.

College football thrives on passion, unpredictability, and human drama. Targeting calls should protect players, not punish them for playing the sport as it's meant to be played. Until the rule is rebalanced, every big hit will carry not just the sound of pads colliding but the echo of uncertainty about whether the game itself is being lost to overregulation.