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 makes a legitimate point that athletic revenue is not the same as profit. But their argument depends on a much larger assumption: that because most athletic departments operate under financial constraints, compensating athletes must necessarily come at the expense of scholarships, smaller sports, or ordinary students. That conclusion has not been established. In fact, I agree that athletic departments face serious financial pressures. A 2026 Government Accountability Office report found that 94 percent of Division I athletic programs spent more than they generated in revenue during the 2023–24 academic year. But that finding does not establish that direct athlete compensation is inherently unsustainable. It describes athletic department finances before the current revenue-sharing system began, and those budgets already reflected years of institutional spending decisions. That distinction matters. Financial pressure existed before direct revenue sharing. It cannot automatically be attributed to athlete compensation. My opponent also argues that football and basketball subsidize other sports. That is a legitimate part of the financial structure at many institutions. But it raises an important question: why should the athletes generating significant commercial revenue be expected to support an entire athletic enterprise while having no direct claim to a portion of that revenue themselves? Supporting swimming, softball, tennis, and other programs is important. But protecting those opportunities is an institutional responsibility, not a reason to categorically exclude athletes from compensation. Now let’s address my opponent’s claim that college sports lacks the necessary financial and regulatory machinery. That argument is outdated. The House settlement established a framework for direct institutional payments, including annual compensation caps, reporting requirements, written agreements, compliance procedures, and oversight by the College Sports Commission. During its first year, 307 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 system is flawless or that no financial tradeoffs exist. They do establish that college athletics already has a functioning structure for direct compensation. The absence of a professional sports union does not mean that colleges lack any mechanism for regulating payments. My opponent’s argument also assumes that every school must distribute the same fixed percentage of revenue regardless of financial circumstances. But that is not the position I am defending, nor is it how the existing system operates. Schools have discretion over payment amounts within established limits. A financially constrained institution can adopt a smaller compensation commitment than a wealthy program. Revenue sharing can be designed around financial capacity, transparent budgeting, and protections for existing athletic opportunities. And consider the implications of the alternative my opponent is defending. If athletes receive a direct share only after every other institutional expense is satisfied, their compensation effectively becomes the lowest financial priority. A university could devote substantial resources to facilities, administrative expansion, coaching contracts, and recruiting infrastructure, then point to its remaining budget and declare that there is nothing available for the athletes. That is not simply an unavoidable economic reality. It is also a question of spending priorities. I am not suggesting that all those expenses are unnecessary. I am arguing that athlete compensation deserves to be considered alongside them, rather than excluded before financial planning even begins. My opponent warns that paying athletes could force schools to charge students more. That is a serious concern, and I would oppose a compensation model that automatically shifts costs onto ordinary students. But a possible consequence is not an inevitable consequence. The burden is on my opponent to demonstrate that such cost increases are unavoidable under financially limited revenue sharing, not merely possible under an expensive hypothetical model. Most importantly, my opponent frames this debate as though compensating a quarterback means abandoning a swimmer. I reject that framing. Athletes in smaller sports deserve protection, and athletes who generate substantial commercial value deserve fair consideration for compensation. Those objectives can be incorporated into the same financial framework. My opponent has demonstrated that college athletics has difficult financial choices to make. They have not demonstrated that the only responsible choice is to exclude athletes from sharing in the revenue they help generate. The existence of financial constraints is an argument for carefully designed compensation, not an automatic argument against compensation itself. A university cannot reasonably recognize athletic performance as commercially valuable when negotiating television rights, selling tickets, and securing sponsorships, then treat that same performance as having no direct compensable value when discussing the athletes. Fairness requires more than acknowledging that athletes generate revenue. It requires giving their contributions meaningful consideration within the financial system that benefits from them. That is the principle my position defends, and my opponent’s concerns about implementation do not defeat it.

My opponent asks whether $1.77 billion in payments proves fairness. No, and I have never argued that a dollar figure alone proves a system is fair. What it proves is that direct athlete compensation is not an impossible concept. The question is whether the system should be improved or whether athletes should be denied a direct share altogether. And that is where my opponent’s argument begins to unravel. Throughout this debate, the objection has shifted from schools lacking profits, to lacking a compensation structure, to the possibility of an expensive recruiting arms race. These are different concerns, and none establishes that athletes do not deserve a share of the revenue their performances help generate. My opponent now argues that every school will feel compelled to spend up to the cap. But the actual first-year evidence challenges that sweeping assumption. According to reporting on the College Sports Commission’s figures, 319 schools opted into the revenue-sharing framework, 307 made payments, and only 68 reached or came within 5 percent of the $20.5 million cap. That means approximately four out of five participating institutions did not spend at or near the maximum. Recruiting pressure is real. But claiming that every school must keep pace with the wealthiest programs ignores what schools actually did. And the cap itself is not a mandatory payment. It establishes a maximum, not a minimum. Schools retain discretion over their spending. My opponent also claims the first cuts usually fall on smaller sports, travel, and roster spots. I agree these are serious vulnerabilities, and I will not pretend otherwise. But the claim that these cuts are the inevitable or usual direct consequence of revenue sharing requires evidence that my opponent has not provided. In fact, roster limits are a separate feature of the House settlement, alongside the elimination of previous scholarship limits. Those structural changes can affect athletic opportunities independently of how much money a school actually distributes to athletes. It would be misleading to attribute every roster reduction automatically to revenue-sharing payments. There is another critical distinction my opponent continues to overlook: financial pressure does not begin with athlete compensation. Athletic departments faced substantial financial difficulties long before the House settlement. A 2026 Government Accountability Office report examined financial data from before revenue sharing began and found that most Division I programs were already spending more than they generated. So when my opponent points to strained budgets, they are describing a preexisting problem in college athletics, not proving that paying athletes created it. Now consider the argument about recruiting. My opponent worries that wealthy schools will use their financial advantages to attract better athletes. But wealthy programs already possess advantages through facilities, coaching resources, national exposure, recruiting budgets, and institutional support. Eliminating direct revenue sharing would not eliminate those inequalities. It would simply remove one way athletes themselves can benefit from the commercial value of college sports. And if competitive spending creates financial risks, why should athlete compensation be singled out as the expense that must be prohibited? Why not establish stronger budget transparency, responsible spending limits, and protections for non-revenue sports? I support protecting swimmers, softball players, and other athletes. But I reject the assumption that their opportunities must depend on denying compensation to football and basketball players. There is room for a more responsible model: institutions can establish payments consistent with their financial capacity, disclose their athletic spending, and protect scholarships and participation opportunities. Those safeguards would not eliminate every tradeoff, but they address the actual problem rather than dismissing athlete compensation as inherently unfair. And there is a fundamental inconsistency in my opponent’s position. They recognize that football and basketball help finance other athletic programs. In other words, they acknowledge that these athletes contribute significant economic value to the institution. Yet when those same athletes seek a direct share, their compensation suddenly becomes the threat to everyone else. Why is the athlete’s contribution valuable enough to support the entire athletic department but not valuable enough to justify compensation for the athlete? My opponent calls revenue sharing a spending spiral. But a poorly managed compensation system is not an argument against the principle of compensation any more than excessive coaching salaries are an argument that coaches should work without pay. The real distinction is between whether athletes deserve compensation and how institutions should responsibly provide it. My opponent has raised legitimate questions about the second issue without defeating the first. And that is ultimately why my position stands. I have never argued that universities possess unlimited resources, that every school must pay the maximum, or that smaller sports should be sacrificed. I have argued that athletes deserve a meaningful place in the financial structure of an industry built around their performances. The answer to irresponsible spending is responsible budgeting. The answer to unequal resources is a fairer financial framework. And the answer to protecting smaller sports is to protect them directly, not to make athlete compensation the scapegoat for every financial problem in college athletics. My opponent has shown that fairness requires careful implementation. I agree. But they have not shown that fairness requires excluding the very athletes who help create the revenue. A system does not become financially responsible simply because the athletes receive less. And it does not become fair simply because everyone else gets paid first. College athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue. Not an unlimited share. Not a financially reckless share. A fair, transparent, sustainable share that recognizes their contribution while protecting the opportunities college athletics is supposed to provide. That is not a spending spiral. That is financial accountability that finally includes the athletes themselves.