College athletics has spent decades treating athletes as essential to generating revenue while debating whether those same athletes deserve a direct share of it. But we have moved beyond the point where this question can be dismissed as an unrealistic proposal. Revenue sharing is already happening, and that changes the foundation of this debate. During the 2025–26 academic year, hundreds of colleges distributed approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue-sharing payments to student-athletes. This is not a hypothetical economic model. It is an actual system operating across college athletics. My position is straightforward: when universities generate substantial commercial revenue through the performance, labor, and public appeal of their athletes, those athletes deserve a meaningful opportunity to share directly in the financial value they help create. Let me address the predictable objections immediately. First, scholarships are valuable, but they are not equivalent to revenue sharing. A scholarship helps cover educational expenses. It does not automatically establish that an athlete has received an equitable portion of the commercial revenue generated through their performance. Educational opportunity and financial compensation serve different purposes, and recognizing one does not eliminate the legitimacy of the other. Second, NIL earnings are not a substitute for institutional revenue sharing. NIL compensates athletes for commercial uses of their identities, often through outside agreements. Direct revenue sharing recognizes their contribution to the financial success of the athletic program itself. These are distinct forms of compensation, and the existing college sports framework recognizes both. Third, I recognize that athletic departments have financial obligations and that non-revenue sports deserve protection. But those concerns are arguments for responsible allocation, transparent budgeting, and appropriate safeguards, not automatic arguments against athlete compensation. Some schools have considerably greater resources than others. A fair system should account for those differences rather than pretending every institution has identical financial capabilities. And protecting opportunities in smaller sports must be part of the solution, not used as a blanket justification for excluding athletes from revenue. My opponent may argue that revenue sharing turns college athletes into professional employees. But receiving a share of commercially generated revenue does not erase someone’s identity as a student. Universities already operate substantial commercial athletic enterprises involving broadcasting agreements, sponsorships, ticket sales, and merchandising. The commercial nature of those operations does not suddenly begin when athletes receive compensation. In fact, the current revenue-sharing framework provides a crucial reality check. Schools are already making direct payments while continuing to operate college athletic programs. That does not mean every financial problem has been solved or that every athlete receives a fair amount. It means the argument must now move beyond whether revenue sharing is possible and address how it can be implemented responsibly. And here is the fundamental issue: an athletic department’s budget is not a moral verdict. The fact that institutions have chosen to allocate revenue toward particular expenses does not, by itself, establish that athletes should have no direct claim to the value they help generate. We should absolutely protect scholarships, educational opportunities, and non-revenue sports. But we should also recognize that the athletes whose performances attract audiences, sponsorships, and broadcasting revenue are not incidental participants in that financial system. They are central to it. This debate is not about choosing between education and compensation, or between football players and swimmers. It is about whether college athletics can distribute its financial success responsibly while recognizing the people whose contributions make that success possible. Scholarships recognize the value of education. NIL recognizes the commercial value of identity. Direct revenue sharing recognizes the financial value athletes help create for their institutions. Those principles are not mutually exclusive. College athletes should not have to choose between being students and being fairly compensated contributors to a multibillion-dollar enterprise. They can be both. And a system that benefits financially from their performance should recognize both.

My opponent has presented a financially dramatic example, but there is a fundamental problem: they have constructed a hypothetical payment requirement and then treated the financial damage caused by that requirement as proof that direct revenue sharing itself is unsustainable. Let’s examine the numbers. A program generates $20 million, spends $18 million, and has $2 million remaining. My opponent then imposes a mandatory 20% share of gross revenue, creating a $4 million obligation and a $2 million deficit. The arithmetic is correct. But the conclusion is not. All this demonstrates is that requiring a financially constrained institution to distribute more than its available resources, without adjusting other expenditures, can create a deficit. It does not establish that every responsible revenue-sharing arrangement would produce that outcome. More importantly, my opponent’s example misrepresents the actual framework already operating in college athletics. Under the House settlement, participating institutions can provide direct payments up to an established cap. That cap is a maximum, not a requirement that every institution distribute a fixed percentage of its own gross revenue. Schools retain discretion over how much they distribute, and the framework allows institutions outside the major defendant conferences to decide whether to participate. This distinction completely changes the financial argument. A school with limited resources does not have to follow the unrealistic formula my opponent invented. And we have evidence that revenue sharing is more than a theoretical possibility. During the 2025–26 academic year, 307 schools reported approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue-sharing payments to nearly 35,000 student-athletes across 45 sports. Those figures do not prove every institution can afford identical payments, but they demonstrate that direct athlete compensation is already being implemented across a substantial portion of college athletics. My opponent correctly states that revenue is not profit. I agree. But that observation does not settle the issue of athlete compensation. Coaching salaries, travel expenses, facilities, and administrative operations are also paid from institutional resources. We do not argue that coaches should receive no compensation because athletic departments have expenses. Instead, institutions budget for their contributions. Why should athletes, whose performances are central to generating commercial athletic revenue, be categorically excluded from that same consideration? My opponent also assumes that swimming, tennis, and other non-revenue sports must be sacrificed to compensate athletes. But that is a possible institutional choice, not an unavoidable mathematical consequence. Schools can evaluate spending priorities, determine affordable compensation levels, and establish protections for existing athletic opportunities. I fully recognize that some programs face genuine financial constraints. Those constraints deserve serious consideration. But financial responsibility and fair compensation are not mutually exclusive principles. There is another weakness in my opponent’s argument. They claim revenue sharing rewards spending on spectacle and punishes programs that need money. Yet the danger of competitive overspending is not unique to athlete compensation. Institutions can already compete through coaching contracts, facilities, recruiting resources, and other expenditures. Singling out athlete payments as the cause of financial pressure ignores the broader incentives already operating within college athletics. Ultimately, my opponent has established that a poorly designed, inflexible revenue-sharing mandate could damage a financially vulnerable athletic program. That is a valid warning about policy design. It is not a persuasive argument that athletes should be denied a direct share of the financial value they help create. The question before us is not whether every athletic department can afford to distribute 20% of its gross revenue. That was my opponent’s hypothetical, not my proposal. The question is whether college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue, structured responsibly around institutional financial realities. My opponent has demonstrated the danger of an unrealistic payment formula. They have not demonstrated the unfairness or impossibility of revenue sharing itself. A budget constraint determines what an institution can afford. It does not determine whether an athlete’s contribution has value. Responsible compensation recognizes both realities, and that is precisely why I continue to support direct revenue sharing for college athletes.

My opponent’s final argument reveals something important: we are no longer debating whether athletes deserve to share in the financial success they help create. We are debating how that compensation should be structured. And remarkably, my opponent’s proposed solution actually supports the central principle of my position. They suggest targeting actual surplus while protecting broad athletic participation. But distributing a portion of athletic surplus directly to athletes is itself a form of revenue sharing. If my opponent now accepts that athletes should receive direct compensation when institutional finances permit it, then the disagreement is no longer about whether revenue sharing is justified. It is about designing a financially responsible system. That is precisely what I have advocated throughout this debate. My opponent repeatedly argues against a mandatory, fixed percentage of gross revenue applied identically to every institution. But I have never defended that model. My position has consistently recognized differences in institutional resources, the importance of financial safeguards, and the need to protect non-revenue sports. A hypothetical policy that ignores those realities may be poorly designed. But demonstrating the weaknesses of that hypothetical does not invalidate the broader principle of direct athlete compensation. And there is another fundamental problem with relying exclusively on reported surplus. Athletic departments do not simply discover how much surplus exists. They make decisions that determine it. Coaching contracts, facilities, administrative spending, travel arrangements, and other institutional priorities all influence the amount remaining at the end of the year. If athletes are entitled to compensation only after every other expense has been paid, institutions may have little incentive to preserve a surplus for them. Under that approach, athlete compensation becomes the last priority rather than a recognized component of responsible financial planning. That does not mean ignoring expenses or forcing financially struggling programs into deficits. It means treating athlete compensation as a legitimate budgetary consideration alongside other necessary expenditures, rather than assuming it can only come from whatever happens to remain. My opponent also warns that revenue sharing could threaten swimming, tennis, and other non-revenue sports. Those concerns deserve attention, but they are not inevitable consequences of every compensation model. Protecting broad participation can be an explicit requirement of responsible revenue sharing, through appropriate financial limits, transparency, and safeguards for athletic opportunities. In fact, the existing system demonstrates why this debate requires more precision. Colleges already operate under a framework allowing direct payments subject to institutional choices and financial limits. That does not establish that every arrangement is perfect, but it contradicts the assumption that direct compensation necessarily requires the rigid formula my opponent continues to criticize. And we should not overlook the underlying issue of fairness. College athletes help generate revenue through their performance, preparation, physical commitment, and the public interest their competitions attract. Universities, conferences, broadcasters, sponsors, coaches, and administrators participate in an enormous commercial system built around that activity. Yet my opponent’s argument repeatedly treats direct compensation for the athletes themselves as uniquely threatening to financial sustainability. Why should the athletes’ contribution be the one that receives recognition only after every other institutional spending decision has been satisfied? I agree that revenue is not profit. I agree that schools have different financial capacities. I agree that non-revenue sports and scholarships deserve protection. But none of those points establishes that athletes should be excluded from sharing directly in the financial success they help produce. My opponent began by arguing that direct revenue sharing would create unacceptable financial consequences. They now propose a financially limited version of direct revenue sharing as the fairer alternative. That is not a rejection of my central principle. It is an acknowledgment that the principle can be implemented in different ways. The question was never whether every school should distribute an identical percentage regardless of its finances. The question was whether college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue. Fair compensation and financial responsibility are not opposing goals. They are obligations that a well-designed system must balance. And if we can recognize the financial contributions of coaches, administrators, universities, and conferences while protecting the broader athletic community, we can recognize the contributions of the athletes who make those competitions possible. College athletes deserve more than appreciation for the revenue they help generate. They deserve a fair opportunity to participate in it. That is the principle I have defended from the beginning, and it remains the foundation of my position.