Imagine a university signing a lucrative broadcasting agreement because millions of people want to watch its athletes compete. The broadcaster gets valuable programming. The university receives revenue. Coaches receive salaries. Administrators are compensated. Sponsors gain exposure. Yet when we suggest that the athletes whose performances make this commercial activity possible deserve a direct share, suddenly the conversation becomes about whether there is enough money. I believe that exposes the fundamental inequity at the heart of this debate. My position is that college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue because they are essential contributors to its creation, because scholarships and NIL earnings do not fully address that contribution, and because financial responsibility can coexist with fair compensation. First, let’s distinguish revenue sharing from profit sharing. My argument is not that universities should distribute money they do not have or ignore their legitimate operating expenses. It is that athlete compensation deserves recognition as a legitimate financial obligation when institutions budget for commercially successful athletic programs. We do not generally require every other participant in a commercial enterprise to wait until all expenses are paid before recognizing the value of their work. Coaching compensation, administrative expenses, and facilities are considered part of operating the program. Why should the athletes who perform in the competitions be treated as an afterthought? Second, the argument that scholarships already compensate athletes overlooks what scholarships are designed to provide. A scholarship supports educational opportunity. It does not automatically represent an equitable share of the commercial value an athlete helps create. And NIL earnings, while important, compensate athletes through arrangements involving their identities and marketability. Neither necessarily replaces direct institutional revenue sharing. Third, this is no longer an untested concept. According to the College Sports Commission, 307 schools distributed approximately $1.77 billion directly to nearly 35,000 athletes across 45 sports during the 2025–26 academic year. That evidence does not establish that the system is perfect. It establishes that direct compensation is a functioning part of college athletics, rather than an impossible theoretical proposal. Now let me address what I consider the most serious objection: the possibility that paying athletes could threaten non-revenue sports. I take that concern seriously. Swimming, gymnastics, tennis, and other athletic programs provide meaningful educational and competitive opportunities. Their protection should be part of responsible financial planning. But there is no logical requirement that supporting athlete compensation means imposing an identical, inflexible percentage of gross revenue on every institution. A financially responsible model can account for institutional resources, operating obligations, transparent spending priorities, and protections for existing athletic opportunities. In fact, the current framework allows schools discretion over payment amounts within established limits. The existence of a maximum payment cap does not mean every school must spend that amount. And I want to challenge another assumption before it becomes the foundation of this debate: the idea that athletes should receive compensation only if a university reports a surplus. Surplus is not an entirely independent measure of financial capacity. It is affected by spending decisions. A university can increase expenditures on facilities, coaching contracts, and administration, leaving less money available at year’s end. If athletes are entitled to consideration only after every other spending priority has been satisfied, their compensation can become permanently subordinate to institutional choices. That is not a neutral financial principle. It is a choice about whose contribution receives priority. I am not advocating reckless spending, guaranteed payments beyond institutional means, or the elimination of smaller sports. I am advocating a transparent system in which athlete compensation is considered alongside other legitimate operating costs, with appropriate limits and protections. The larger question is whether the people whose athletic performances generate commercial value should participate in that value, or whether institutions should retain the exclusive authority to distribute it among everyone else. A scholarship recognizes educational opportunity. NIL recognizes individual commercial marketability. Direct revenue sharing recognizes an athlete’s contribution to the financial enterprise itself. These are different forms of value, and acknowledging one does not eliminate the others. Financial responsibility should determine how revenue sharing is structured, not serve as an automatic justification for excluding athletes from it. College athletics cannot reasonably celebrate the commercial value of athletic performance when negotiating television contracts, sponsorships, and ticket sales, then treat that same performance as financially irrelevant when discussing compensation. The principle is straightforward: when athletes help create substantial commercial value, they deserve a fair opportunity to share in it. And the responsibility of athletic institutions is not to choose between fairness and sustainability, but to build a system capable of respecting both.

My opponent chose UConn as an example, and I think that example deserves a closer examination because it actually exposes a weakness in their argument. UConn did receive approximately $31.7 million in institutional support during the fiscal year in which its men’s basketball team won the national championship. That is accurate. But the money supported the athletic department as a whole. It does not establish that the championship basketball team itself lost $31.7 million, nor does it prove that paying athletes is financially impossible. In fact, UConn reported approximately $62.7 million in self-generated athletic revenue that year, an increase from the previous year. So the complete financial picture is more complicated than simply pointing to university support and concluding that athletes should not receive direct compensation. But there is an even more fundamental problem with my opponent’s reasoning. Direct revenue sharing does not require a university to have a pile of leftover profits. Athletic departments already budget for coaches, administrators, facilities, equipment, travel, and scholarships. Those expenses are not contingent on discovering a giant surplus at the end of the year. They are incorporated into the institution’s financial priorities. My argument is that athlete compensation deserves consideration within those priorities as well. My opponent asks, “Fairness with whose money?” I would ask a different question: whose performances help create the commercial value being distributed? Universities do not sell tickets to watch administrators prepare budgets. Broadcasters do not pay for the privilege of televising athletic department meetings. Fans watch athletes compete. Their performances are an essential part of what gives these programs commercial value. That does not mean athletes deserve every dollar. It means they should not automatically be excluded from receiving a direct portion. My opponent also suggests that compensation must come at the expense of volleyball, softball, and Olympic sports. I agree that protecting those opportunities matters. But the existence of competing budget priorities does not prove that one particular expense must be eliminated. Universities make choices about coaching compensation, facilities, administration, fundraising, and athletic expansion. If we are concerned about protecting smaller sports, we should establish financial safeguards and transparent spending priorities rather than declaring athlete compensation uniquely unacceptable. And the claim that revenue sharing is financially unworkable overlooks an important fact: it is already happening. During the 2025–26 academic year, 307 schools made approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue-sharing payments to nearly 35,000 athletes across 45 sports, according to the College Sports Commission. That does not prove every institution can afford the same payment or that implementation has been free of difficult tradeoffs. But it directly contradicts the suggestion that revenue sharing is merely an unrealistic proposal requiring nonexistent profits. The current framework allows schools to decide how much they distribute within established limits. It does not require every institution to pay an identical percentage of its own gross revenue. Finally, my opponent argues that scholarships, coaching, medical care, and exposure are already sufficient compensation. Those benefits have real value. But they serve different purposes. A scholarship supports education. Coaching and medical care help athletes participate safely and effectively. Exposure may create future opportunities, but it does not guarantee income. None of those benefits automatically answers whether an athlete deserves a direct share of the commercial revenue their performance helps generate. And the free cruise analogy is especially revealing. College athletes are not simply passengers enjoying an experience someone else created. They are active participants whose training, physical effort, performance, and competitive success help make the entire enterprise possible. A more appropriate comparison would be telling the people operating the cruise that their compensation is unnecessary because they get to travel on the ship. My opponent has established that college athletics is expensive. They have not established that the athletes who make its commercial success possible should be the only major contributors whose direct compensation is treated as an unreasonable financial burden. A university’s spending decisions determine how revenue is allocated. Those decisions are not a neutral argument against paying athletes. The choice is not between paying athletes and protecting smaller sports. The real challenge is designing a responsible system that recognizes athlete contributions while preserving educational and athletic opportunities. College athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue not because every program is profitable, but because their contributions have economic value. Financial constraints should shape how fairly and sustainably that value is shared, not erase the principle that it deserves recognition.

My opponent has built their argument around Berkeley, but there is a significant factual error in their example, and correcting it changes the entire significance of their claim. UC Berkeley announced plans to eliminate or restructure five varsity sports in September 2010, not 2020. That was approximately fifteen years before the current direct revenue-sharing system began in July 2025. This is important because my opponent is using an example of financial difficulties that existed long before direct athlete compensation to argue against direct athlete compensation. If anything, Berkeley demonstrates that athletic departments can accumulate deficits and threaten smaller sports even when athletes are not receiving a direct share of institutional revenue. That is evidence of longstanding financial management problems, not evidence that athlete revenue sharing is inherently unsustainable. And there is an even more revealing example. In 2020, Stanford announced plans to discontinue eleven varsity sports because of financial pressures. But in 2021, Stanford reversed that decision after reassessing its financial circumstances and fundraising prospects. Why does that matter? Because it demonstrates that athletic cuts are not always an unavoidable mathematical consequence of financial pressure. Institutional priorities, fundraising, and financial decisions can change the outcome. Now, I agree with my opponent that an endowment is not simply a checking account available for athletic spending. Many university funds are restricted, and operating expenses are real. I have never argued otherwise. But my opponent is making a different mistake by treating an athletic department’s reported deficit as proof that no resources can reasonably be allocated to athletes. Revenue is not the same as profit. I have made that distinction throughout this debate, and it remains fundamental. Universities budget for coaching salaries, administrative compensation, facilities, travel, scholarships, and numerous other expenses without requiring each expense to be paid exclusively from year-end profits. Athlete compensation can also be incorporated into responsible financial planning. My opponent compares an athletic budget to a household bank balance and suggests that recognizing spending choices is equivalent to ignoring the mortgage. But that analogy actually supports my position. A household must distinguish essential obligations from discretionary expenses, evaluate competing priorities, and decide how to allocate limited resources. A university must do the same. The existence of fixed expenses does not mean every dollar of institutional spending is fixed, unavoidable, or beyond scrutiny. I am not proposing that athletes receive money before universities pay their essential obligations. I am proposing that athlete compensation be recognized as a legitimate obligation when budgets are developed. Those are very different positions. My opponent also argues that the $1.77 billion in payments proves money is concentrated at the top. Certainly, financial resources are unequal across college athletics. But that figure alone does not establish how payments are distributed among individual institutions, nor does it demonstrate that every school is sacrificing smaller sports to finance them. The College Sports Commission reports that 319 schools opted into the first-year framework, 307 made direct payments, and only 68 reached or came within five percent of the $20.5 million cap. That is significant. It shows that most participating institutions did not spend at the maximum, directly challenging the assumption that every school must commit the same enormous amount. And these payments reached nearly 35,000 athletes across 45 sports. That does not prove perfect fairness, but it demonstrates that direct compensation is not inherently limited to a handful of quarterbacks and basketball stars. My opponent also suggests that modest payments at smaller schools undermine the principle of revenue sharing. I disagree. A smaller payment does not become meaningless simply because it is smaller than what a wealthy university can afford. Financial differences already exist throughout college athletics. Scholarships vary. Facilities vary. Coaching budgets vary. Institutional resources vary. We do not conclude that smaller schools should stop offering scholarships because they cannot match the resources of the wealthiest programs. Why should athlete revenue sharing be judged by that entirely different standard? The appropriate question is whether compensation can be structured according to institutional financial capacity while protecting educational and athletic opportunities. I believe it can, and the current framework already recognizes differences in what institutions choose to pay. Let me also address the concern for swimming, gymnastics, softball, and other sports. I agree that those programs matter. I agree that protecting participation opportunities should be a priority. But my opponent has repeatedly presented athlete compensation and smaller sports as though they are necessarily competing interests. They are not necessarily mutually exclusive. We can establish transparent athletic budgets, responsible payment commitments, protections for existing scholarships, and safeguards against eliminating programs merely to increase spending on high-profile recruits. Those protections require thoughtful policy, but difficulty in designing a fair system does not invalidate the principle of fairness. And here is the contradiction my opponent has never resolved. When universities negotiate television contracts, sponsorships, and ticket sales, the athletes’ performances are treated as commercially valuable. When institutions allocate that revenue to coaches, administrators, facilities, and other sports, those expenditures are described as legitimate. But when athletes themselves receive a direct share, suddenly the entire financial structure is portrayed as too fragile to accommodate them. Why should the athletes who help generate the revenue be the one group whose direct compensation is treated as an unacceptable burden? My opponent has demonstrated that college athletics faces financial constraints. I agree. But financial constraints existed before revenue sharing. They have not demonstrated that excluding athletes from direct compensation would protect smaller sports, eliminate deficits, or produce a fairer system. My opponent’s Berkeley example does not establish what they claim. Their assumption that revenue sharing requires profits misunderstands how operating budgets work. And their claim that paying athletes necessarily threatens smaller sports confuses a possible financial tradeoff with an unavoidable outcome. The question is not whether every athletic department can afford the same payment. They cannot. The question is whether athletes deserve a meaningful share of the commercial value they help create, within a financially responsible framework. I am defending fair compensation with financial safeguards. My opponent is defending financial safeguards as a reason to reject direct compensation. Those are not equivalent positions. Athletic departments should protect smaller sports. They should manage their finances responsibly. And they should recognize the economic contributions of the athletes whose performances help sustain the enterprise. A financially struggling institution does not become fairer merely by excluding athletes from compensation. And a financially successful institution should not be permitted to treat athletes as commercially valuable everywhere except in its own compensation decisions. Fairness does not require unlimited spending. It requires that the people who create value are not automatically excluded from sharing in it. That is why college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue, and why my opponent’s financial concerns, however legitimate, do not defeat that principle.