I don’t say that as a pundit. I say it as someone who lived inside the “old version” of college sports.
I never really liked football, not in high school, and had no interest in the sport as I entered college. I was a design student that was in the studio day and night. Even on weekends. But when you hear 15,000 fans cheering just down the street, I decided it was time to get a ticket and walk into the stadium.
It was late ’90s at Georgia Tech, and we had an explosive quarterback---Joe Hamilton. On the field, he was unstoppable. Off the field, he was a student, just like me. In fact, we shared a classroom building. I remember standing in the hallway before class, surrounded by the usual pre-lecture loitering and chatter, and there he was—on the other side of the hallway.
Joe wasn’t much taller than me, but there was a presence about him. Strong. Composed. Quiet. We barely spoke, but the proximity mattered. When he exploded on the field—taking down one team after another—it didn’t feel distant or manufactured. It felt personal. His wins felt like ours.
We were all figuring out who we were becoming, and his meteoric rise felt symbolic of that season of life. College sports weren’t just entertainment; they were woven into the fabric of campus life.
That thread still exists—but it’s thinner now. And as we head into another championship game, it’s hard to ignore how much strain is showing.
NIL: A Necessary Correction, With Complicated Side Effects
What it was meant to be
NIL was overdue. Student-athletes deserved to benefit from the value they create—especially in a sport that generates billions and leaves many players injured, undrafted, and forgotten.
Watching talented young men and women secure financial stability—or even create generational change for their families—is something worth celebrating.
What we’re seeing now
It’s clear NIL has also accelerated a market-driven mentality. Recruiting feels less like development and more like acquisition. Rosters change rapidly. Loyalty is harder to identify—not because players are selfish, but because the system now rewards movement over continuity.
It’s not wrong.
But it is different.
The Transfer Portal: Volatility on Display
What it was meant to be
The transfer portal gave athletes agency. It corrected a power imbalance that had existed for decades.
What it has become
On the eve of the biggest game of the year, entire rosters are already in flux. Star players preparing for the playoff are also weighing offers elsewhere. Depth charts for next season are unknowable. A hero today can be a rival by spring.
In professional sports, contracts create stability. Fans know the arc of a team. In college football, that arc now resets annually—or even midseason.
When that happens repeatedly, the emotional thread starts to fray.
Conference Realignment: The Road Trips We’ll Never Take
What it was meant to be
Conferences once made sense. They were regional. They created rivalries, road trips, and packed visitor sections. Students piled into cars and drove a few hours to hostile territory, bonded by shared exhaustion and shared joy.
What it looks like now
As this championship cycle wraps up, we’re watching conferences that span entire continents. “Conference games” that require cross-country flights. Matchups that make sense on a television grid—but not in real life.
It’s hard to imagine today’s students driving 12 or 14 hours for a Saturday game. And when that disappears, something else disappears with it: shared memory.
The Rich Getting Richer—In Plain Sight
This postseason has also made one thing clear: the gap is widening.
Without anything resembling a salary cap, collective bargaining agreement, or competitive guardrails, the biggest programs are consolidating power. Talent clusters. NIL money compounds. The same logos dominate the biggest stages.
Parity—the quiet promise that made college sports feel alive—feels increasingly theoretical.
What This Means Right Now
As this championship approaches, the games will still be thrilling. The athletes were extraordinary. The production was flawless.
But it’s worth pausing to ask:
What happens when the thread finally breaks?
I don’t think we can—or should—undo everything. NIL is here to stay, and rightly so. The transfer portal needs refinement, not removal. Some change was inevitable.
But conference realignment driven by fear and greed? That feels different. That feels corrosive.
And as someone who experienced college sports when they were deeply embedded in campus life—not just broadcast from it—I want my kids to know what that felt like.
Because college sports were one of the rare spaces where difference dissolved. In the student section, none of the usual labels mattered. When your team scored, you hugged a stranger. You high-fived someone who might become a lifelong friend.
That kind of unity is fragile.
And once it’s gone, it’s incredibly hard to recreate.
As we celebrate another national champion, it’s worth asking—not cynically, but honestly—what we’re trading away beneath the confetti.
Because the magic of college sports was never just about who won. It was about belonging.
