I want to begin with a question: Why is nearly every major participant in the commercial side of college athletics entitled to negotiate compensation for the value they provide, while the athletes themselves have historically been expected to accept educational benefits as sufficient? College sports are not simply extracurricular activities anymore. At major universities, they are substantial commercial enterprises involving broadcasting contracts, sponsorships, ticket sales, merchandising, and major institutional investments. And at the center of that enterprise are the athletes. My position is straightforward: college athletes deserve a direct share of the athletic revenue their performances help generate. That does not mean every university must pay the same amount, that athletes should receive unlimited compensation, or that smaller sports should be sacrificed. It means athletes deserve a meaningful place in the financial distribution of an enterprise that depends on their participation. First, revenue sharing is about recognizing economic contribution, not merely rewarding effort. Plenty of students work hard. That alone does not establish an entitlement to athletic revenue. The stronger argument is that athletes help create a commercially valuable product. Television networks purchase broadcasting rights because people want to watch competitions. Sponsors pay to associate with those events. Fans purchase tickets to see athletes perform. Universities provide essential infrastructure, coaching, and organizational support. I acknowledge that. But those contributions do not erase the athletes’ contribution. If a university can recognize the commercial value of athletic competition when negotiating its revenue, it should also recognize the people whose performances make that competition possible when distributing that revenue. Second, scholarships are valuable, but they answer a different question. A scholarship helps finance an education. It does not necessarily represent an athlete’s share of the commercial value generated by athletic performance. Consider two athletes receiving comparable scholarships. One competes in a program with limited commercial revenue. The other plays a central role in a program generating substantial broadcasting and sponsorship income. Their educational benefits may be similar, but their contributions to the institution’s commercial revenue may be very different. That does not mean one athlete is more deserving of educational opportunity or personal respect. It means educational assistance and commercial compensation serve different purposes. The existence of one does not automatically eliminate the justification for the other. Third, the financial argument against revenue sharing often starts from an assumption that deserves to be challenged. Opponents frequently point out that many athletic departments operate at a deficit. That is a legitimate concern. But a deficit is not proof that every existing expense is necessary or that athlete compensation is uniquely unaffordable. Athletic departments make choices about coaching salaries, administrative staffing, facilities, travel, recruiting, and other expenditures. Those choices influence whether an institution reports a surplus or deficit. Compensation for athletes should be evaluated alongside those expenses, not automatically placed outside the budget until everyone else has been paid. I am not suggesting that every school has hidden money available. Some institutions face genuine financial constraints, and any responsible system must acknowledge them. But the existence of constraints does not establish that athletes should be excluded from direct compensation. Fourth, the choice is not between unlimited revenue sharing and eliminating smaller sports. That is a false dilemma. A workable system can account for differences in institutional resources, establish transparent payment criteria, protect educational opportunities, and require oversight of how compensation decisions affect other athletes and students. Institutions with substantial commercial athletic revenue have different financial capacities from schools with limited resources. Their payment obligations should not be assumed identical. And protections for women’s sports, scholarships, and non-revenue programs should be built into the system rather than treated as afterthoughts. I also want to distinguish between an athlete deserving compensation and a particular compensation formula being perfect. A policy can require improvement without its underlying principle being wrong. If an institution proposes payments that threaten essential programs, scrutinize those payments. If administrators cannot explain their financial decisions, demand transparency. If a revenue-sharing arrangement creates inequities, correct them. Those are reasons for responsible rules, not for excluding athletes from the commercial value they help create. Finally, the debate is not about whether college sports should abandon education. Education should remain central. But educational purpose and financial fairness are not mutually exclusive. A university can value academics, provide scholarships, support smaller sports, and recognize that some athletes contribute directly to a commercial enterprise. There is no inherent contradiction between those responsibilities. And the existence of broadcasting contracts, sponsorship agreements, and substantial coaching compensation already demonstrates that college athletics operates within an economic marketplace. The question is whether athletes should have a meaningful share in that marketplace or remain the exception. My opponent may argue that revenue sharing costs money. Of course it does. Every institutional priority costs money. They may argue that not every athletic department can afford substantial payments. I agree, and I am not proposing identical payments for every institution. They may argue that scholarships already provide value. They do, but educational assistance is not automatically equivalent to direct participation in commercial revenue. What those objections do not establish is why athletes should be excluded from the financial value they help generate. The principle I am defending is not that athletes should receive money regardless of consequences. It is that their economic contributions deserve recognition within a financially responsible system. College athletics cannot reasonably celebrate the commercial value of athletic performance when collecting revenue, then treat the athletes’ claim to share in that revenue as fundamentally illegitimate. A fair system must protect educational opportunities, respect financial realities, and recognize the athletes at the heart of the enterprise. That is why I am FOR college athletes receiving a direct share of athletic revenue.

My opponent begins by saying that revenue is not profit. I agree completely. But that distinction actually reveals the first problem with their argument. Athletes are not asking to be treated as shareholders collecting whatever profit remains at the end of the year. The argument for direct revenue sharing is that they contribute economic value and deserve to participate in the compensation structure of the enterprise they help sustain. Coaches are paid from operating budgets. Administrators are paid from operating budgets. Facilities, travel, recruiting, and other expenses are funded before an institution determines whether it has a surplus. None of those expenditures requires a profitable athletic department to be considered legitimate. So why does my opponent suddenly make profitability the deciding standard when the expenditure involves athletes? I am not arguing that a university can spend money it does not have. I am arguing that athletes should not automatically be placed last in the budget simply because other spending commitments already exist. My opponent’s second claim is that direct payments will usually come at the expense of Olympic sports and smaller programs. That is a serious concern, but where is the evidence establishing that this is the usual outcome of revenue sharing? Financial tradeoffs are real. Some institutions may reduce other expenditures, seek additional revenue, or face difficult decisions about athletic opportunities. But identifying possible consequences is not the same as demonstrating that those consequences are inevitable or even predominant. In fact, the Government Accountability Office found that 94 percent of Division I athletic departments spent more than they generated in 2023–24, before the current revenue-sharing system began. That means the financial pressures my opponent describes were already widespread. The GAO also found that athletic departments collectively received billions in institutional support, including funding ultimately connected to tuition and student fees. That is important because the question of whether ordinary students should subsidize athletic spending did not begin when athletes started receiving direct compensation. If my opponent is concerned about protecting students from financial burdens, then we should examine the entire athletic budget, not single out payments to athletes while treating every other expenditure as beyond scrutiny. Here is a more concrete approach. First, require transparent reporting of the revenues supporting direct payments and the institutional spending choices surrounding them. Second, establish compensation commitments based on realistic financial capacity rather than requiring every university to pay the same amount. Third, protect scholarships and participation opportunities, including women’s and smaller sports. Fourth, require institutions to disclose whether proposed payments would increase mandatory student fees or eliminate existing athletic opportunities, with independent review of those decisions. These are safeguards I would support, not claims that the current system already guarantees them. Now consider Title IX. My opponent correctly identifies an important legal and ethical issue. A system that disproportionately rewards athletes in particular sports could raise serious sex-equity concerns. But that is an argument about how payments are allocated, not proof that direct compensation itself must be rejected. Title IX requires institutions to address sex discrimination. A properly designed compensation system must take those obligations seriously. It would be a mistake to claim that every possible revenue-sharing formula is legally compliant. It would be equally mistaken to claim that Title IX makes all direct revenue sharing inherently impermissible. Those are different propositions. My opponent also argues that scholarships, stipends, medical support, and elite training already compensate athletes. I agree that those benefits have substantial value. But listing existing benefits does not answer whether athletes should receive a direct share of the commercial revenue they help generate. A scholarship recognizes educational opportunity. Medical support addresses health and participation needs. Training helps athletes develop and compete. Third-party NIL arrangements compensate athletes for particular commercial uses of their identity. None of those automatically substitutes for an institution directly compensating athletes for their contributions to its athletic enterprise. And that distinction is not hypothetical. During the 2025–26 academic year, 307 schools made approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue-sharing payments to 34,915 athletes across 45 sports, according to the College Sports Commission. Those figures do not prove that every payment was fair, that every school can afford the same amount, or that no other program experienced financial consequences. What they establish is that institutional revenue sharing is already a functioning compensation mechanism, separate from scholarships and third-party NIL agreements. That directly challenges my opponent’s suggestion that strengthening benefits and allowing NIL deals are necessarily sufficient alternatives. Finally, my opponent says revenue sharing treats universities like professional franchises. But paying athletes directly does not automatically transform college athletics into professional sports. The College Sports Commission explicitly states that receiving institutional revenue-sharing payments does not, by itself, make a student-athlete an employee of the university under the settlement framework. More fundamentally, a university can retain its educational mission while recognizing that athletic performance has commercial value. The presence of compensation does not erase the educational purpose of an institution any more than paying coaches, researchers, or student employees erases that purpose. My opponent’s argument ultimately depends on three assumptions: that existing spending priorities should remain largely intact, that direct payments must primarily harm smaller sports, and that educational benefits eliminate the justification for commercial compensation. None has been established. I agree that revenue is not profit. I agree that smaller sports deserve protection. I agree that Title IX matters. And I agree that financial decisions have consequences. But those concerns establish the need for responsible revenue sharing, not a categorical argument against it. The real question is why the people whose athletic performances help generate commercial revenue should be excluded from direct participation in that revenue while the institution continues compensating nearly everyone else involved in producing it. My opponent has explained why compensation requires careful budgeting. They have not explained why athletes should be the exception to compensation. College athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue, with transparent funding, equitable rules, and meaningful protections for the educational opportunities that college sports should provide.

My opponent has built their closing around one historical example, one hypothetical budget, and one legal concern. All three deserve serious consideration. But none establishes that college athletes should be excluded from receiving a direct share of the revenue they help generate. And one of those examples is missing a critical fact. My opponent points to Stanford’s announcement in 2020 that it would eliminate 11 varsity sports. That announcement was real, and the financial concerns were serious. But here is what they left out. On May 18, 2021, Stanford reversed its decision and announced that all 11 sports would continue. Stanford cited improved financial conditions and increased fundraising potential as reasons it could preserve those programs. That matters for two reasons. First, the original decision occurred years before the current institutional revenue-sharing system began. It cannot be presented as evidence that direct athlete payments caused those proposed cuts. Second, the reversal demonstrates that eliminating smaller sports was not the only possible outcome of Stanford’s financial difficulties. The financial threat was real. The supposed inevitability of eliminating those programs was not. Now let’s examine the $100 million athletic department that spends $102 million. My opponent correctly observes that paying athletes would require additional resources or changes to existing expenditures. But this hypothetical already contains a $2 million deficit before a single dollar of new athlete compensation is introduced. It tells us nothing about which expenditures could be adjusted, whether additional revenue could be raised, or whether the institution could responsibly incorporate athlete compensation into its future budget. More importantly, it does not establish that swimming, wrestling, gymnastics, or other smaller sports must be the first programs sacrificed. That is an assumption about administrative priorities, not a mathematical conclusion. I am not claiming that every university has unlimited flexibility. Some programs genuinely cannot afford substantial additional payments without painful tradeoffs. But that is precisely why I have consistently supported compensation based on institutional capacity, transparent financial reporting, and explicit protections for smaller sports. My opponent treats those safeguards as though they are irrelevant because money still has an opportunity cost. Yet opportunity costs apply to every institutional expenditure. A university that spends millions on coaching, facilities, travel, and administrative operations is making choices about how its athletic revenue is allocated. Those expenses are not automatically illegitimate. But neither are they automatically more deserving of protection than compensation for the athletes who make the competitions possible. And there is an additional inconsistency in my opponent’s proposed solution. They suggest capping costs and expanding scholarships, stipends, medical support, and other benefits instead of directly sharing revenue. But expanding those benefits also costs money. If the athletic department is already operating at a deficit, where does that additional funding come from? My opponent cannot argue that financial constraints make direct compensation unacceptable while proposing additional expenditures without explaining how those expenditures would be financed. Cost control and expanded benefits may be worthwhile. But they are not inherently costless alternatives to revenue sharing. And cost controls could also help make direct compensation sustainable. These policies are not mutually exclusive. Now consider Title IX. My opponent says sport-specific revenue sharing is legally complicated and that proportionality does not automatically resolve every concern. That is a legitimate caution. But it is not an argument that all institutional revenue sharing is unlawful. The Congressional Research Service has identified the application of Title IX to direct athlete payments as an unresolved legal question, including whether such payments should be treated like athletic financial assistance or contractual compensation. The appropriate response is to develop compensation rules that comply with applicable sex-discrimination law, protect women’s athletic opportunities, and withstand legal scrutiny. I am not proposing that schools ignore Title IX or simply distribute money according to whichever men’s sport earns the most. I am arguing that legal uncertainty about particular payment formulas does not eliminate the underlying justification for direct compensation. My opponent also returns to scholarships, stipends, medical care, training, and NIL opportunities. Those benefits matter. But the argument remains incomplete. Scholarships address educational costs. Medical care supports athletes’ health. Training helps them compete. Third-party NIL deals compensate athletes for commercial uses of their identities. Direct institutional revenue sharing recognizes another contribution: the commercial value athletes help create for the university itself. The College Sports Commission expressly distinguishes direct payments from schools from third-party NIL agreements. In the 2025–26 academic year, schools made approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue-sharing payments to nearly 35,000 athletes across 45 sports. Those figures do not prove that the current system is perfect or that every institution can afford the same payments. They do establish that direct compensation is a real and distinct mechanism, not merely an attempt to turn universities into professional franchises. And that brings me to my opponent’s central claim: that revenue sharing treats college sports like professional athletics. I disagree with the premise. A university does not abandon its educational mission when it compensates people who contribute to its operations. Paying athletes does not require eliminating scholarships, abandoning academics, or treating students solely as employees. The educational mission and commercial reality of college athletics already coexist. The question is whether the financial benefits of that commercial reality should be distributed without giving athletes a meaningful direct share. Finally, I want to make one distinction absolutely clear. My opponent has demonstrated that athletic departments face real financial constraints. They have demonstrated that smaller sports deserve protection. They have demonstrated that Title IX raises important questions. I accept all three. But they have not demonstrated that denying athletes direct compensation is necessary to solve any of those problems. Their Stanford example predates revenue sharing and omits the reversal of the proposed cuts. Their budget hypothetical assumes that smaller sports must absorb costs without examining other spending decisions. Their proposed alternative of expanded benefits still requires funding. And their Title IX objection identifies unresolved legal questions, not a categorical prohibition on all direct payments. Those are reasons to demand a better compensation system. They are not proof that athletes should be excluded from compensation. I am not defending an unlimited claim on every dollar of athletic revenue. I am defending a meaningful, financially responsible share that recognizes athletes’ economic contributions while protecting other students and sports. The central contradiction in my opponent’s position is that universities may treat athletic performances as commercially valuable when collecting broadcasting, sponsorship, and ticket revenue, but the athletes’ direct participation in that value is treated as an unacceptable financial burden. Financial responsibility matters. Educational opportunities matter. Gender equity matters. And the athletes whose performances make the enterprise possible matter, too. A fair system must account for all of them. My opponent has shown that sharing revenue requires difficult choices. They have not shown that refusing to share it is the fairer choice. That is why college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue