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 raises a legitimate concern about athletic department finances, but their conclusion depends on a false choice: either deny athletes direct compensation or sacrifice smaller sports and increase student fees. That is not the only possible financial model, and the available evidence does not establish that those outcomes are inevitable. First, let’s examine the numbers. My opponent imagines a Group of Five school generating $40 million while spending $45 million. That is a hypothetical example, not evidence about a specific university. Even accepting those numbers, a $5 million shortfall does not establish that every expense is unavoidable or that no responsible amount could ever be allocated to athletes. And I am not dismissing the broader financial problem. According to the Government Accountability Office’s 2026 report, 94 percent of Division I athletic programs spent more than they generated in 2023–24. But here is the crucial detail: those figures describe the financial situation BEFORE the current revenue-sharing system began in July 2025. Athletic departments were already overspending relative to generated revenue. That means my opponent cannot simply point to existing deficits and treat them as proof that athlete compensation is responsible for the problem. Second, my opponent asks where the evidence is that revenue sharing can extend beyond the SEC and Big Ten. We actually have evidence. The College Sports Commission reports that during the 2025–26 academic year, 307 schools distributed approximately $1.77 billion directly to 34,915 athletes across 33 conferences and 45 sports. Thirty-three conferences, not two. That does not prove every school can afford the same payments, nor does it establish that every program has avoided difficult financial tradeoffs. But it directly challenges the suggestion that revenue sharing exists only among a handful of wealthy football programs. And the spending data reveals something else important. Of 319 schools participating in the framework, only 68 reached or came within five percent of the $20.5 million annual cap. In other words, most participating schools did not spend anywhere near the maximum. That matters because my opponent’s argument assumes that direct revenue sharing necessarily imposes an enormous financial obligation on institutions regardless of their resources. The actual system allows schools to determine how much they distribute within the established cap. Third, let’s address scholarships and stipends. I agree that scholarships can be extremely valuable. They help students obtain an education and may reduce substantial financial burdens. But educational assistance and direct participation in commercial revenue are not identical. A scholarship recognizes a student’s educational and athletic opportunity. Direct revenue sharing recognizes that athletes also contribute to an enterprise generating money through broadcasting, sponsorships, ticket sales, and licensing. Those two forms of compensation can coexist. In fact, the current framework expressly allows direct payments in addition to scholarships and third-party NIL earnings. Fourth, my opponent asks which athletes should receive payments. That is a fair implementation question, but it is not an argument against the principle. Institutions can develop transparent criteria that consider commercial contribution, participation, competitive responsibilities, financial capacity, and the protection of athletic opportunities. I am not arguing that every athlete must receive an identical payment or that football players should receive unlimited compensation while other sports disappear. I am arguing that athletes deserve a legitimate place in financial decisions rather than being automatically excluded. Finally, I want to challenge the assumption that smaller sports must absorb the cost. The GAO report identifies substantial spending across athletic departments, including coaching and support staff compensation, team operations, travel, and scholarships. These are legitimate expenditures, but they also demonstrate that universities already make complex decisions about allocating limited resources. My opponent treats those existing allocations as fixed while treating athlete compensation as the one expense that cannot be accommodated. Why? If financial sustainability matters, every major spending priority deserves scrutiny. It is not reasonable to protect all existing institutional spending decisions from examination while placing the entire burden of financial restraint on the athletes. I support safeguards against increasing mandatory student fees to finance excessive compensation. I support protecting smaller sports and scholarships. I support limiting payments according to institutional financial capacity. Those are reasons to design revenue sharing responsibly, not reasons to reject it altogether. My opponent has correctly identified a financial challenge but has not established that excluding athletes from direct compensation solves it. The deficits existed before revenue sharing. The current system extends across dozens of conferences. And most participating schools did not spend at the maximum. The question is not whether every institution can afford to imitate the wealthiest football programs. They cannot, and I have never suggested otherwise. The question is whether the athletes whose performances create commercial value deserve meaningful consideration when that value is distributed. Financial responsibility should determine the size and structure of compensation. It should not erase the principle that the athletes themselves deserve a share. College athletics already knows how to distribute money to coaches, administrators, facilities, and competing institutional priorities. The challenge is to build a financially responsible system that includes the athletes rather than treating them as the one group whose contributions must remain outside the budget.

My opponent asks where the money comes from. That’s a legitimate question. But their argument contains a fundamental inconsistency: they recognize that athletic departments make enormous financial commitments to coaches, facilities, administrators, and operations, yet treat compensation for the athletes themselves as the one expenditure that cannot be responsibly incorporated into a budget. Let’s examine the evidence rather than the hypothetical. The Government Accountability Office found that 94% of Division I athletic departments spent more than they generated in 2023–24, with a median funding gap of $20.6 million. I accept those figures. But here’s what my opponent’s argument overlooks: those financial difficulties existed before direct revenue sharing began in 2025. And during the decade preceding revenue sharing, median athletic spending at Power conference schools increased by 81%, while generated revenue increased more slowly. That is powerful evidence of a longstanding spending problem. It is not evidence that compensating athletes caused the problem. My opponent repeatedly presents a hypothetical university generating $40 million and spending $45 million. But those figures do not tell us how the $45 million was allocated, which expenditures were essential, which were discretionary, or whether spending decisions could be changed. Without that information, the example cannot establish that even a modest athlete compensation program is impossible. And this is where the opportunity-cost argument actually undermines my opponent’s position. Every dollar spent on a coaching contract is unavailable for something else. Every dollar spent on facilities is unavailable for something else. Every dollar spent on administrative expansion is unavailable for something else. Why is opportunity cost treated as an unavoidable reason to reject athlete compensation, but not as a reason to scrutinize those other expenditures? My opponent is effectively assuming that the existing budget deserves protection while the athletes must justify receiving anything beyond scholarships. That is not a neutral financial principle. It is a preference for the existing distribution of money. Now let’s address their demand for distribution data. The College Sports Commission confirms that 307 schools across 33 conferences paid nearly 35,000 athletes in 45 sports during the first year of direct revenue sharing. My opponent correctly notes that this national aggregate does not establish what the median school paid. I agree. But the absence of a publicly established median in that aggregate does not establish that the system is financially unworkable. It means we should demand better institution-level transparency before making sweeping claims about its consequences. Furthermore, only 68 of the 319 participating schools reached or came within five percent of the $20.5 million cap. That is not evidence of every school being forced to imitate the wealthiest programs. It is evidence that institutions made different compensation decisions. And the cap is a ceiling, not a required payment. My opponent asks whether revenue sharing scales beyond the wealthiest conferences. But that question assumes scaling must mean imposing the same financial obligation on every school. It doesn’t. A financially constrained institution should not be expected to distribute $20 million simply because a wealthy football program can. Revenue sharing can reflect financial capacity, commercial contribution, and protections for scholarships and smaller sports. My position is not that every school must distribute an identical percentage of gross revenue regardless of its circumstances. It is that athletes deserve meaningful participation in the revenue their performances help generate, under a financially responsible system. There is also a distinction my opponent has failed to address. An athletic department reporting an overall deficit does not mean every sport generates insufficient revenue or that athletes contribute no commercial value. Some programs generate substantial broadcasting, sponsorship, and ticket revenue that institutions use to support other activities. Supporting those activities is legitimate. But it does not follow that the athletes helping generate that revenue should have no direct claim to any portion of it. My opponent asks who pays when the department is already underwater. I would ask why the financial burden must fall disproportionately on the athletes rather than being addressed through responsible institutional budgeting. If the concern is student fees, establish safeguards against financing excessive compensation through mandatory student charges. If the concern is smaller sports, establish protections for scholarships and participation opportunities. If the concern is an arms race in spending, impose appropriate financial accountability and compensation limits. Those are responses to the actual financial problems. Rejecting direct compensation altogether does not eliminate athletic deficits, guarantee the survival of smaller sports, or prevent universities from increasing coaching and facilities expenditures. In fact, the historical financial evidence demonstrates that athletic departments experienced substantial spending growth and persistent deficits without direct revenue sharing. My opponent has established that college athletics faces difficult financial choices. They have not established that denying athletes a direct share is necessary, sufficient, or even effective in solving those problems. They demand proof that every school can afford the same compensation system, although that is not the system I am defending. They cite deficits that predate revenue sharing as though those deficits disprove it. And they invoke opportunity cost while leaving existing spending priorities largely unquestioned. That is not a conclusive financial argument against athlete compensation. It is an argument for better financial management. The question before us is whether college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue. Not whether every athletic department is profitable. Not whether every university can afford the same payment. Not whether compensation should be unlimited. The question is whether the athletes whose performances create commercial value deserve recognition within the financial system that benefits from those performances. My opponent has acknowledged their contribution but has offered no convincing reason why that contribution should be excluded from direct compensation while other participants in the athletic enterprise continue to receive it. A university’s financial difficulties are real. But financial difficulties do not automatically justify placing athletes last in the allocation of resources. We should protect smaller sports, prevent unreasonable student fee increases, and require responsible budgets. But we should not confuse those responsibilities with a justification for denying athletes compensation. The strongest financial system is not one that pays everyone else first and tells athletes nothing remains. It is one that plans responsibly, protects opportunities, and recognizes the people whose performances make college athletics commercially valuable. That is why I support direct athlete revenue sharing. Not as unlimited spending, but as fair compensation governed by financial responsibility.