College athletes should receive a direct share of the revenue they help generate because fairness should not end where institutional profits and financial priorities begin. Universities benefit financially from athletes’ performances through television contracts, ticket sales, sponsorships, and commercial partnerships. The athletes responsible for making those competitions possible deserve meaningful participation in that economic value. And this is no longer merely a theoretical proposal. According to the College Sports Commission, during the 2025–26 academic year, 307 schools made approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue sharing payments to nearly 35,000 student athletes across 45 sports. This is critical evidence because it demonstrates that direct revenue sharing is not simply an unrealistic concept. It has already been implemented on a substantial scale. Opponents often argue that scholarships are sufficient compensation. But scholarships serve an educational purpose, while revenue sharing recognizes athletes’ contributions to a commercial enterprise. Both can coexist. Providing an education does not automatically eliminate the justification for sharing revenue generated through athletic participation. Another objection is that athletic departments cannot afford direct payments without sacrificing smaller sports. Financial sustainability is a legitimate concern, but it does not justify excluding athletes from revenue sharing altogether. Institutions already make decisions about coaching salaries, facilities, administrative spending, and athletic priorities. Athlete compensation deserves consideration within those decisions rather than being dismissed before the budgeting process even begins. Importantly, supporting revenue sharing does not mean supporting unlimited payments or eliminating opportunities for athletes in less commercially successful sports. Responsible policies can establish financial limits, require transparency, and prioritize the preservation of broader athletic participation. The House v. NCAA settlement provides an existing framework for capped institutional payments. It does not guarantee that every school can afford identical compensation, but it demonstrates that direct payments can be structured and regulated rather than left entirely unrestricted. There is also a fundamental difference between NIL opportunities and institutional revenue sharing. Third party endorsement deals compensate athletes for commercial uses of their identities. Direct revenue sharing allows institutions themselves to compensate athletes within the financial structure of college athletics. The existence of one does not make the other unnecessary. The central issue is not whether every athletic program earns the same amount of money or whether every athlete should receive the same payment. It is whether athletes should be excluded from direct participation in revenue they help create simply because universities have traditionally controlled its distribution. I believe the answer is no. A system that recognizes the commercial value of college athletics must also recognize the athletes who make that value possible. Scholarships, educational opportunities, and responsible financial management are important, but none of them requires denying athletes a direct share of the revenue they help generate. College athletics can protect its educational mission while treating athletes as meaningful participants in its financial success. That is why I support direct revenue sharing.

My opponent asks a reasonable question: If a university’s athletic department has almost no surplus, where does the money for direct revenue sharing come from? But their argument makes a critical mistake. It assumes that supporting direct revenue sharing means requiring every institution to pay the same amount, regardless of financial circumstances. That is neither my position nor how the existing system operates. Let’s begin with the $8 million football program my opponent describes. They list coaching salaries, facilities, travel, medical care, and scholarships, then conclude that because little money remains, athlete compensation must be financially impossible. But this argument assumes every existing expense is fixed, every budget allocation is beyond reconsideration, and the only available response to compensating athletes is eliminating other sports. A budget is a record of spending priorities, not proof that those priorities are the only financially responsible choices. Nobody is suggesting universities should eliminate medical care, abandon scholarships, or disregard their financial obligations. But coaching contracts, administrative expenses, facilities investments, and other athletic expenditures are legitimate subjects of budget review. Athlete compensation deserves a place in that discussion rather than being automatically excluded. More importantly, my opponent’s example confuses the inability to afford a particular payment with the impossibility of revenue sharing itself. If a university cannot sustainably distribute millions of dollars, that does not mean it must distribute millions. A smaller, financially appropriate payment is still direct compensation. The question is how to structure it responsibly, not whether every institution can match the wealthiest athletic departments. And this is not merely theoretical. The House v. NCAA settlement established a framework allowing participating institutions to provide direct payments subject to financial limits. According to the NCAA’s implementation guidance, Division I institutions are not universally required to provide these payments, and institutions can determine how much to distribute within the applicable cap. That directly undermines my opponent’s repeated suggestion that revenue sharing necessarily imposes an identical financial obligation on every school. The actual results are even more significant. During the 2025–26 academic year, the College Sports Commission recorded approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue sharing payments to 34,915 student athletes at 307 schools across 45 sports. Of the 319 institutions participating in the framework, only 68 reached or came within five percent of the payment cap. That matters because real institutions are already making different compensation decisions within a regulated system. The supposed choice between identical multimillion dollar payrolls and no athlete compensation is a false dilemma. Now consider the claim that most athletic departments operate at a deficit. Even accepting that many programs face genuine financial difficulties, the conclusion does not follow. An institution’s accounting deficit does not independently establish which expenditures should receive priority. Nor does the absence of an accounting surplus mean athletes have contributed no economic value. Revenue and profit are different concepts, and I have never claimed otherwise. But my opponent is also making an economic mistake by implying that compensation is justified only when an organization has money left over after every other expense. Compensation is itself a legitimate operating expense. It is not inherently something that must wait until all other financial commitments have been satisfied. My opponent’s next argument is that revenue sharing would destroy opportunities for softball, track, volleyball, and other sports. This is a serious concern, and it deserves a serious response. I support protecting those programs. But the possibility that an institution might choose to cut them does not establish that those cuts are unavoidable or that direct athlete compensation is inherently unfair. Universities can evaluate payment levels, spending priorities, fundraising, and protections for broader athletic participation. Those choices involve real tradeoffs, and some institutions may face difficult decisions. However, a predicted negative consequence is not an inevitable consequence simply because my opponent describes it confidently. There is also a contradiction in portraying athletes in smaller sports as deserving protection while treating compensation for athletes in revenue generating sports as inherently illegitimate. Both groups matter. Protecting opportunities for one group should not automatically require denying fair financial participation to another. The scholarship argument is equally incomplete. Scholarships, stipends, coaching, and medical support provide valuable educational and athletic benefits. I do not dismiss them. But those benefits serve different purposes from direct revenue sharing. Receiving an education does not automatically answer whether athletes should participate financially in the commercial value their performances help generate. And NIL is not an adequate substitute. Third party NIL deals involve compensation from outside entities for commercial uses of an athlete’s identity. Institutional revenue sharing involves payments from the university itself. The College Sports Commission explicitly distinguishes these two compensation systems. My opponent cannot simply point to NIL opportunities and declare that the question of institutional compensation has already been resolved. Finally, the claim that direct payments transform student opportunities into professional payrolls is a rhetorical characterization, not a demonstrated consequence. Students can receive compensation while remaining students. Educational benefits and financial recognition are not mutually exclusive. I want to emphasize something important: The first year of revenue sharing does not prove that every school can afford every payment level, or that no smaller athletic program will experience financial pressure. Those would be claims beyond the available evidence. But the evidence does establish something my opponent’s argument fails to recognize: direct institutional compensation is already operating within a structured system, with different schools making different financial commitments. My opponent has presented a hypothetical institution, assumed every existing expense is untouchable, assumed athlete compensation must be financially inflexible, and then treated the resulting threat to smaller sports as inevitable. That is not proof that direct revenue sharing is wrong. It is an argument against one poorly designed version of it. The question before us is not whether universities should spend money they do not have. They should not. The question is whether athletes should be eligible to receive a direct share of the economic value they help create, through a financially responsible framework that respects the needs of the entire athletic department. My position recognizes financial limits, educational priorities, and the importance of smaller sports. My opponent’s position treats those concerns as reasons to exclude direct compensation rather than challenges to address through responsible policy. Financial sustainability and fairness to athletes are not opposing principles. A responsible system must pursue both. And the existence of difficult budget decisions does not justify declaring that athletes’ financial contributions deserve recognition only after every other institutional priority has been funded.

Before my opponent delivers his final response, I want to make the central distinction unmistakably clear. I am not arguing that every university can afford unlimited payments, that scholarships have no value, or that smaller sports should be sacrificed. I am arguing that athletes deserve a legitimate place in the distribution of the revenue they help generate, subject to responsible financial limits. My opponent can repeat that athletic budgets are constrained. I agree. He can repeat that smaller sports deserve protection. I agree. He can repeat that the current settlement does not guarantee long-term sustainability. I agree with that limitation as well. But none of those statements establishes that direct revenue sharing is inherently unfair or should be rejected. To defeat my position, my opponent must demonstrate something more substantial: that meaningful athlete compensation and responsible protection of broader athletic opportunities cannot coexist. He has not demonstrated that. Financial challenges are arguments for careful implementation, not automatic arguments against the underlying principle. And if my opponent’s final response simply repeats that money is limited and difficult choices exist, it will not resolve the fundamental weakness in his case. I have acknowledged those realities throughout this debate. What he still needs to establish is why they justify excluding athletes from direct revenue sharing rather than designing a system that accounts for them. The existence of tradeoffs does not eliminate the obligation to pursue fairness. It makes responsible decision-making more important. That is the distinction I ask this debate to be judged on: whether financial complexity is sufficient reason to deny athletes direct participation in the commercial value they help create, or whether institutions should address that complexity while recognizing athletes’ contributions. I support the second approach because it takes both financial sustainability and fairness seriously.