New London

Said this before, I'll say it again: Some of the best college football coaching in the country - the country - happens on fall Saturdays by the Thames. Just because Coast Guard Academy doesn't attract national media doesn't mean the story is any less significant. Bill George and his staff, handcuffed by a number of standards antithetical to football, get more from less. Faithfully.

And so what follows shouldn't be construed as a slap at George, Ray LaForte, CC Grant, Dana Fleischmann or any of the other coaches. I bear the utmost respect for them.

But as I sat there watching the 2014 home opener Saturday at steamy Cadet Memorial Field, I kept asking the question: Why does Coast Guard continue to offer football?

I mean, we watch what happened Saturday pretty much every fall Saturday: The Bears play hard, honor the uniform and the institution … and are physically unable to negotiate the bigger, stronger, heavier opponents in front of them, thus making their margin for error thin enough to be spread across a saltine.

It was St. Lawrence this time. Next week: Kings Point. The week after: Hampden Sydney. On it goes. The "little team that could" storyline only gets so much mileage before the tires flatten and gaskets begin to leak.

And so I ask: Why continue to offer football if the Academy's parameters run counterintuitive to football?

Of course, I could argue that no other events on campus outside of graduation expose the Academy to the public more than football games. Hence, an argument could be made that football's significance is beyond rhetorical, even perhaps practical, given the number of visitors, alumni and brass that inevitably return for the games.

You win. Everyone's happy. Rinse. Repeat.

But then, if it were really that important, George and his staff could actually coach like their colleagues. Except that they can't. Academic restrictions are parlayed with height and weight standards, strict adherence to which suggests football is a waste of time.

Example: The Coast Guard handbook says that a person who is 75 inches tall - that's 6-foot-3 - can't weigh more than 220 pounds. You know what happens to 220-pound linemen?

You watch football. I watch football. Linemen are built like Mt. McKinley now. They pinch more than an inch. Their job is either to create running lanes by moving comparable masses of humanity out of the way or to make piles so the other team has to run through more traffic than I-95 between Old Lyme and East Lyme in the summer.

Problem: George can't recruit mountains. More like molehills. Tough molehills? You bet. But days like Saturday when it's hotter than Satan's socks, the molehills have less sustainability.

Coast Guard's tackling in its 45-14 loss was hideous. Made you wonder if they actually tackled anyone in preseason. I asked George after the game. He said that he puts the kids through tackling drills, admitted he perhaps might consider more of them, but, no, they don't tackle each other. There is no "live" hitting. They can't. If they hit live, the attrition rate would imperil the season. They're not big enough to withstand it.

Yet here is a sport that's a veritable liaison between the Academy and the public. Common sense suggests that, with so many different eyes on your place during football games, you'd want to succeed. They don't apparently. If they did, they'd accommodate the coaching staff by bending a height and weight requirement or two in the name of practicality, knowing that there are five months between football and graduation. If weight must be lost, there's ample time.

I was reminded of the absurdity of it all during halftime of Saturday's game. Coast Guard honored its 1988 team that won the Eastern College Athletic Conference championship, inviting players from that team to compete in punt, pass and kick competitions with current cadets on the field. All in good fun.

I saw two cadets - one male, one female - embarrass themselves. One couldn't kick a football 10 yards. The other could barely throw it 10 feet. And I ask: They bust George's chops about height and weight … and this is who they're admitting?

I understand that prowess with a football doesn't necessarily constitute good (or bad) leadership skills. But whom would you rather have in charge of a ship chasing the bad guys: former football linemen with the experience of hand-to-hand combat against other behemoths, or somebody who might be good at differential equations but as the athletic ability of a rhododendron?

And please: If you're coming at me with the old "we're here to build officers, not football players" drivel, keep it moving. I believe the real-time decision making sports require are practical preparation for real life situations on the water.

I'm not suggesting Coast Guard becomes Florida State. Just understand football's role. And what it requires.

Or just stop the charade now.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.

Twitter: @BCgenius