NFL overtime was supposed to make games fairer. Instead, it has become one of the most confusing and overbuilt systems in professional sports — especially in the playoffs, where the rules quietly change again and grow even more complicated.
What should be a simple extension of the game now feels like a rulebook within the rulebook.
Overtime still begins with a coin toss, and the winner isn’t just choosing who gets the ball — they can also choose to defer or even pick which end of the field to defend. Before a single snap is played, layers of strategy and technicalities are already in motion.
Under the current system, both teams are guaranteed at least one possession, even if the team that receives the opening kickoff scores a touchdown. That team must then kick off and allow the opponent a chance to respond. The only way the game can end immediately is if the defense scores a safety on the opening possession — another rare and oddly specific exception that fans must remember.
The postseason adds even more complexity. Overtime periods are 15 minutes instead of 10. If a team’s guaranteed possession is still ongoing when time expires, it simply carries over into another overtime period. The game is treated like a continuation of regulation, complete with three timeouts per team, two-minute warnings, and end-of-half clock rules. If the game remains tied, teams line up for yet another kickoff, with only a brief two-minute “halftime” if a second overtime is reached. And in the extremely unlikely event that four overtime periods are played, another coin toss resets the format yet again.
All of this exists in the name of fairness — but fairness has slowly been confused with overcorrection.
The NFL has rewritten its overtime rules multiple times over the years, most notably after Josh Allen never touched the ball in the Bills’ playoff loss to the Chiefs. That game sparked the guaranteed-possession rule, fundamentally changing overtime strategy. But in doing so, the league didn’t just tweak a flaw — it created a system that increasingly minimizes the need to actually play defense. Now, if you win the toss and have a capable offense, you’re almost guaranteed to at least extend the game, regardless of whether your defense can get a stop.
At some point, the league has to ask whether it’s designing rules for competition — or designing them around star players who feel they were wronged.
If the NFL is going to adjust overtime every time a high-profile quarterback is unhappy with how a season ended, it might as well take the next logical step and adopt the NCAA overtime model. College football’s system is cleaner. It’s clearer. And most importantly, it’s more exciting. Both teams know exactly what they’re getting: equal opportunities, immediate pressure, and a true test of execution in scoring situations.
Football thrives on simplicity — move the ball, stop the ball, score more points, win the game. The current NFL overtime system has drifted far from that. What was meant to be fair has become bloated, confusing, and increasingly disconnected from the core of the sport. If overtime is going to feel this manufactured anyway, the league may as well choose a model that fans can actually understand — and enjoy.