I support college athletes receiving a direct share of the revenue they help generate, and I think the strongest argument begins with a simple question: Why should the people whose performances make college athletics commercially valuable be excluded from directly sharing in that value? Major college athletics generates revenue through television contracts, sponsorships, ticket sales, and merchandise. Universities and athletic conferences benefit from those arrangements, while athletes provide the performances that make much of that commercial activity possible. My position is not that every athletic department is profitable, that every athlete generates equal revenue, or that scholarships have no value. Those would be unreasonable claims. My position is that athletes deserve to be recognized as both students and contributors to a commercial enterprise. Now, I anticipate the argument that scholarships, medical care, stipends, and educational opportunities already constitute compensation. Those benefits are meaningful. But receiving valuable educational benefits does not automatically establish that an athlete’s share of the commercial value they help create is fair. Education and direct compensation are not mutually exclusive. I also anticipate concerns about non-revenue sports. Those programs matter, and I do not support sacrificing their opportunities simply to increase payments to football or basketball players. But the existence of competing financial priorities does not justify automatically excluding athlete compensation from the budget. Athletic departments already decide how to allocate money among facilities, coaching salaries, administration, scholarships, and other expenses. Direct athlete compensation deserves consideration within those same financial decisions. And this is not merely a theoretical concept. The 2025 House settlement established a framework allowing participating Division I schools to share revenue directly with athletes, subject to financial limits. That does not mean every implementation question is settled, but it demonstrates that direct revenue sharing can exist within college athletics. Ultimately, this debate should distinguish between whether athletes deserve compensation and how institutions should responsibly structure it. Financial limitations may influence the amount and distribution of revenue sharing. They do not automatically eliminate the principle behind it. A scholarship recognizes an athlete’s educational participation. Direct revenue sharing recognizes the commercial value their performance helps create. Both can be legitimate. College athletes should not have to stop being students to be treated fairly as contributors to a multibillion-dollar industry. That is why I support direct revenue sharing.

My opponent makes an important point about the financial complexity of college athletics, and I agree that scholarships, medical care, and non-revenue sports deserve protection. But their argument depends on a conclusion they haven’t actually demonstrated: that compensating athletes directly must come at the expense of everyone else. Let’s examine that assumption. First, my opponent says athletic revenue isn’t profit sitting in a vault. They’re correct. But neither is revenue automatically an untouchable commitment to existing spending priorities. Athletic departments choose how to allocate resources among coaching salaries, facilities, administration, travel, scholarships, and other expenses. Those decisions may serve legitimate purposes, but they are still decisions. If institutions allocate money to every other expense first and then argue there’s nothing left for athletes, they’re treating the exclusion of athlete compensation as a financial necessity rather than a policy choice. Second, my opponent argues that scholarships, stipends, medical care, and training already compensate athletes. I agree those benefits have substantial value. But value and fairness are not identical concepts. Medical care often addresses injuries and physical risks associated with participation. Training and travel are also necessary for universities to operate competitive programs. And scholarships primarily recognize athletes’ educational participation. None of those benefits automatically answers whether athletes should share directly in the commercial revenue their performances help create. Third, my opponent argues that paying football and basketball athletes will shrink women’s sports and other athletic opportunities. That is a serious concern, but it is not an inevitable outcome. Direct revenue sharing does not inherently require distributing every dollar exclusively to football and basketball players. Institutions can consider multiple sports, financial capacity, and legal obligations when structuring compensation. Protecting women’s athletics and compensating revenue-generating athletes should be treated as simultaneous policy goals, not automatically opposing ones. My opponent needs to demonstrate why responsible revenue sharing is impossible, rather than simply describing what could happen under a poorly designed system. Fourth, consider their suggestion that athletes who want compensation should join a professional minor league. That doesn’t answer the question before us. The commercial revenue we’re discussing is being generated within college athletics. Telling athletes to leave college if they want to participate in that revenue does not explain why the institutions benefiting from their performances should exclude them from it. And direct compensation does not automatically transform a student into a professional athlete. Students can receive compensation for valuable work while continuing their education. Their educational status and financial contributions are not mutually exclusive. There’s another important fact here: the 2025 House settlement established a framework permitting participating Division I institutions to share revenue directly with athletes. That doesn’t resolve every concern, but it demonstrates that the choice is not simply between unpaid college athletics and a separate professional league. Finally, my opponent acknowledges that coaches and television networks can earn substantial amounts from college athletics. But they never explain why the people whose performances make those commercial arrangements possible should be categorically excluded from sharing directly in the resulting revenue. My opponent has established that college athletics involves financial tradeoffs. They have not established that athletes are the one group whose compensation must be sacrificed to manage those tradeoffs. I am not advocating unlimited payments, identical compensation across every institution, or eliminating non-revenue sports. I am advocating a financially responsible system that recognizes athletes as both students and contributors to commercial value. The purpose of protecting college athletics should be to preserve opportunities for athletes, not to use those opportunities as the justification for denying athletes a fair share of what they help create. If the system depends on athletes’ performances to generate revenue, fairness requires that their compensation be part of the financial conversation, not automatically excluded from it.

My opponent asks what happens when athletic revenue is already supporting the entire department. That’s a legitimate question, and I don’t intend to minimize it. But I think their argument makes a fundamental mistake: it treats the financial difficulty of fairly compensating athletes as proof that those athletes do not deserve compensation. Those are not the same thing. Let’s start with the finances. My opponent is correct that many athletic departments spend more than they generate. In fact, a 2026 Government Accountability Office report found that 94% of Division I athletic programs spent more than they generated in athletic revenue during the 2023–24 academic year. I acknowledge that evidence because my position doesn’t require pretending that every school is profitable. But here’s what that statistic does not establish: that every existing expenditure is unavoidable, that every institution has identical financial circumstances, or that athlete compensation must always come at the expense of women’s sports and scholarships. Financial statements reveal how institutions allocate resources. They do not, by themselves, establish which allocation is fairest. My opponent repeatedly argues that direct payments must mean cuts elsewhere. Of course compensation has a cost. Nobody is disputing that. But the relevant question is why that cost must automatically be absorbed by other athletes rather than considered alongside coaching contracts, facilities, administrative spending, fundraising, and other institutional priorities. Some schools genuinely cannot afford substantial additional payments. Others have significantly greater resources. A responsible policy should recognize those differences. That is precisely why I have never advocated identical payments or mandatory maximum distributions at every institution. Now consider my opponent’s criticism of the House settlement. They say the settlement is a legal compromise, not proof that revenue sharing is morally justified. I agree that a legal settlement does not, by itself, establish a moral principle. But that’s not why I raised it. I raised it because my opponent repeatedly presents direct compensation as though it necessarily requires an impractical transformation of college athletics. The House settlement demonstrates that a framework for direct institutional payments already exists, with caps, compliance requirements, and flexibility in how much institutions provide. It doesn’t prove the system is perfect. It disproves the assumption that the only alternatives are the old compensation structure or turning every college into a professional franchise. Next, my opponent argues that NIL already allows athletes to profit from their market value. But NIL and revenue sharing address different economic relationships. NIL allows athletes to earn compensation from the commercial use of their names, images, and likenesses. Direct revenue sharing recognizes their contribution to the revenue generated by the institution’s athletic enterprise. A company paying an athlete for an endorsement does not answer whether the university benefiting from that athlete’s performance should share any of its own commercial revenue. One opportunity does not automatically replace the other. And the suggestion that athletes seeking compensation should simply pursue professional sports misses the central issue. We’re discussing revenue generated within college athletics. Telling athletes to leave that system if they want direct compensation does not explain why the system itself should exclude them from sharing in the value they help create. Students do not stop being students simply because they receive compensation. Now, I want to address the strongest concern my opponent has raised: protecting women’s athletics, scholarships, and non-revenue sports. Those opportunities matter tremendously. I support protecting them, and I recognize that poorly designed compensation policies could threaten them. But I reject the assumption that fairness to one group of athletes necessarily requires unfairness to another. A responsible system should evaluate institutional financial capacity, preserve athletic opportunities, respect legal obligations, and distribute available resources transparently. Those safeguards require difficult choices. They are not guarantees that every institution can maintain every existing expenditure. But difficulty does not justify excluding athlete compensation from consideration altogether. And here is the contradiction at the center of my opponent’s position. They acknowledge that athletes generate commercial value. They acknowledge that scholarships do not settle every fairness question. They acknowledge that coaches and television networks can benefit enormously. Yet when the question becomes whether athletes should participate directly in that revenue, the answer suddenly becomes that the money is already committed elsewhere. But existing financial commitments are not automatically moral priorities. If we accept that reasoning without scrutiny, then any institution could defend excluding a group from compensation simply by pointing to everything else it has chosen to fund. That is not a sufficient standard of fairness. My opponent has demonstrated that college athletics faces genuine financial constraints. I have never denied that. What they have not demonstrated is why those constraints justify treating direct athlete compensation as inherently inappropriate. The fact that an institution cannot afford unlimited compensation does not establish that athletes deserve no direct share at all. The fact that scholarships are valuable does not establish that scholarships are always sufficient. And the fact that protecting other sports is important does not mean athletes generating substantial commercial revenue must be excluded from sharing in it. I am defending a principle of fairness that can be implemented with financial responsibility, not a demand that every school distribute money it doesn’t have. College athletes can be students, receive scholarships, contribute to their institutions, and deserve direct compensation for the commercial value they help create. The question is not whether universities have other financial responsibilities. Of course they do. The question is why the athletes who make their commercial success possible should be the one group expected to accept those responsibilities as a reason for their exclusion. Fairness is not achieved by pretending financial constraints don’t exist. It is achieved by refusing to use those constraints as an automatic excuse to deny athletes a meaningful share of the value they help produce. That is why I stand FOR direct revenue sharing.