College athletics has an unusual financial arrangement: the people whose performances make the games worth watching are essential to generating revenue, yet their direct compensation has historically been treated as optional while the costs of running the institution are treated as necessary. I believe that deserves serious scrutiny. My argument is not that every college athlete should receive a professional salary or that universities should distribute money they cannot afford. My argument is that athletes who contribute to the commercial value of college sports deserve a meaningful share of that value, and that financial responsibility should determine how compensation is structured rather than whether it is justified. First, consider how athletic revenue is generated. Television networks purchase broadcasting rights because audiences want to watch athletes compete. Fans buy tickets because they care about the games. Sponsors invest because athletic performances attract attention. Universities provide facilities, coaching, administration, and institutional support. Those contributions matter. But without the athletes, there is no competition to broadcast, no athletic performance to sell, and no commercial product around which those revenues are generated. If the athletic enterprise recognizes the financial value of coaches, administrators, facilities, and broadcasting arrangements, why should the athletes themselves be excluded from direct participation in that value? Second, scholarships are not a complete answer. Scholarships provide educational assistance. Coaching and medical support help athletes participate and develop. NIL arrangements compensate athletes for certain commercial uses of their identities. Direct revenue sharing recognizes something different: that athletes contribute to an enterprise generating money through their competitive performances. Those forms of value are not interchangeable. A scholarship can be extremely valuable without necessarily representing a fair share of the revenue an athlete helps generate. Third, direct compensation is no longer merely theoretical. Following the House settlement, schools began making direct payments to athletes in July 2025. According to the College Sports Commission, 307 institutions across 33 conferences distributed approximately $1.77 billion to 34,915 athletes in 45 sports during the first year. Those figures do not prove every institution has the same financial capacity or that implementation has been free of difficult tradeoffs. They establish that direct athlete compensation is an operating reality extending beyond a handful of wealthy football programs. Now let me address the objection I expect to hear: most athletic departments face financial constraints, and paying athletes could threaten smaller sports. That concern deserves a serious answer. But it does not follow that because athletic departments have limited resources, athletes must be excluded from the financial priorities of the institution. Universities already decide how much to spend on coaching contracts, administrative operations, facilities, recruiting, travel, and scholarships. Those expenditures involve opportunity costs, just as athlete compensation does. Financial responsibility requires examining all those priorities, not treating every existing expense as untouchable while requiring athletes to accept whatever remains. And revenue sharing does not require every institution to pay the same amount. Under the current framework, schools may provide direct compensation within an established cap, but the cap is a maximum, not a mandatory payment. Institutions can make different commitments according to their circumstances. That distinction is essential. A wealthy university with substantial broadcasting revenue should not determine what a financially constrained institution must spend. I would support transparent financial reporting, payment commitments based on institutional capacity, and protections for scholarships and smaller athletic programs. Those safeguards are compatible with recognizing athletes’ contributions. There is also a deeper problem with the argument that athletes should receive direct compensation only after an athletic department reports a surplus. A surplus is affected by how an institution chooses to spend its revenue. If universities can increase spending on facilities, staffing, and other priorities before deciding whether anything remains for athletes, then athletes may be excluded indefinitely, regardless of the commercial value they help generate. I am not arguing that athlete compensation should override essential institutional obligations. I am arguing that it deserves legitimate consideration alongside them. And finally, we should distinguish between whether a compensation system can be improved and whether athletes deserve compensation in the first place. An imperfect implementation does not invalidate the underlying principle. If payments are financially excessive, establish responsible limits. If smaller sports are vulnerable, protect them. If spending is insufficiently transparent, require accountability. Those are reasons to design a better system, not reasons to deny athletes a share altogether. The central issue is not whether every college can afford to imitate the wealthiest football programs. They cannot, and no responsible revenue-sharing model should require them to. The issue is whether athletes deserve recognition as economic contributors within an enterprise that benefits commercially from their performances. A university cannot reasonably treat athletic performance as financially valuable when negotiating television rights, sponsorships, and ticket sales, then dismiss that same contribution when considering direct compensation. Scholarships recognize educational opportunity. NIL recognizes individual commercial marketability. Revenue sharing recognizes the economic contribution athletes make to the institution itself. Fairness does not require unlimited spending. It requires that athletes have a meaningful place in the distribution of the value they help create. That is why college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue, structured responsibly, transparently, and with protections for the opportunities college sports is supposed to provide.

My opponent proposes a three-step financial test. I welcome that test, because it exposes the central weakness in their argument: they assume that existing institutional spending must remain untouched, while compensation for the athletes is the expense that must justify its existence. Let’s apply their procedure. Step one: identify the revenue pool. College athletic programs generate revenue through broadcasting rights, ticket sales, sponsorships, donations, and other commercial activities. Not every sport generates the same amount, and not every institution has the same resources. I have never argued otherwise. But direct revenue sharing does not require a university to have a large year-end profit. Compensation is an operating expense, not necessarily a distribution of leftover profits. Coaches do not have to wait until an athletic department reports a surplus before their salaries are considered legitimate. Administrators are not automatically denied compensation because a department operates at a deficit. Their expenses are incorporated into financial planning. Why should athletes be treated differently? Step two: determine who funds the payments. My opponent suggests that the money must come from eliminating smaller sports or increasing student fees. But those are not the only possible responses to financial pressure. Institutions can examine administrative spending, coaching compensation, facilities expenditures, fundraising, and other budget priorities. They can also limit athlete payments according to their actual financial capacity. That does not mean every institution can afford substantial payments without making difficult choices. It means my opponent has not established that cutting smaller sports or increasing student fees is inevitable. And we have actual implementation evidence. According to the College Sports Commission, 307 schools across 33 conferences distributed approximately $1.77 billion in direct revenue-sharing payments during the 2025–26 academic year. Those payments reached nearly 35,000 athletes across 45 sports. More importantly, only 68 of the 319 participating institutions reached or came within five percent of the $20.5 million cap. That distinction matters. A cap is a maximum, not a mandatory expense. The existing system permits institutions to make different compensation commitments rather than requiring every school to imitate the wealthiest football programs. Step three: examine what gets cut or charged elsewhere. This is where I agree that financial accountability is essential. If a university eliminates athletic opportunities, reduces scholarships, or increases mandatory student fees to finance excessive compensation, those consequences deserve scrutiny. But the existence of potential tradeoffs does not prove that every revenue-sharing arrangement produces those outcomes. And the financial problems my opponent describes existed before direct revenue sharing began. A 2026 Government Accountability Office report found that 94 percent of Division I athletic departments spent more than they generated in 2023–24. The median funding gap was $20.6 million. Those figures are significant, but they predate the current revenue-sharing system by approximately two years. In other words, college athletics already had a serious financial sustainability problem before schools began making these direct payments. My opponent cannot simply point to longstanding deficits and assume athlete compensation is the cause. Now let’s address scholarships and stipends. I agree that scholarships provide substantial value. But educational assistance does not automatically settle the question of whether athletes should participate directly in the commercial revenue their performances help create. Scholarships support educational opportunity. Direct compensation recognizes economic contribution. Those are different purposes. My opponent also raises Title IX and roster complications. Those are legitimate concerns, but they require precision. Title IX prohibits sex discrimination in federally funded educational programs. The application of its requirements to particular institutional revenue-sharing payments remains an evolving legal question. That uncertainty does not establish that revenue sharing is inherently incompatible with Title IX. Instead, institutions need transparent payment criteria, careful legal compliance, protections for women’s sports, and meaningful oversight. Similarly, roster limits introduced under the House settlement are a separate structural change from the actual dollars distributed to athletes. It would be misleading to attribute every roster reduction automatically to revenue-sharing payments. Finally, my opponent says fairness alone does not prove that direct revenue sharing is the best mechanism. I agree that fairness must be accompanied by workable implementation. But they have not offered a convincing reason why scholarships should be considered sufficient while the athletes’ direct participation in commercial revenue remains unacceptable. And their alternative leaves a major question unanswered. If athletes help generate substantial commercial value, and institutions are free to distribute that value among coaches, administrators, facilities, and other programs, why should athletes themselves be excluded from direct compensation? The answer cannot simply be that money is limited. Money is limited for every expenditure. My opponent’s three-step test identifies legitimate budgeting questions. It does not establish that athletes should receive nothing directly from the revenue they help generate. Their argument assumes that existing spending priorities are fixed, that financial tradeoffs must fall on smaller sports or students, and that complicated implementation is equivalent to an unjustified policy. None of those conclusions follows automatically from the evidence. I am not advocating unlimited payments, mandatory spending at the cap, or sacrificing other athletes. I am advocating a financially responsible system that recognizes athlete contributions while protecting educational opportunities. The question is not whether direct compensation is costless. Of course it isn’t. The question is why its cost is treated as uniquely disqualifying when every other part of the athletic enterprise is already funded through competing financial priorities. College athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue because their performances are essential to creating that revenue. Financial responsibility should determine how that share is structured, not provide a blanket justification for excluding them.

My opponent has finally identified the most important issue in this debate: not whether athletes create commercial value, which they acknowledge, but who controls the distribution of that value and who bears the financial consequences. And that question exposes a fundamental weakness in their position. They argue that allowing administrators to determine revenue-sharing payments merely relocates discretion rather than eliminating it. I agree that discretion alone does not guarantee fairness. But notice what follows from that admission. If administrators can determine how much athletes receive, they can also determine how much money goes toward coaching contracts, facilities, administrative salaries, recruiting, and other institutional priorities. So why does my opponent treat administrative discretion as a reason to reject athlete compensation, while accepting that same discretion over virtually every other expenditure? The problem is not that athletes receive a share. The problem is whether financial decisions are transparent, accountable, and appropriately constrained. That calls for stronger rules governing compensation, not the exclusion of athletes from compensation. Now let’s examine the hypothetical $40 million athletic department that breaks even. My opponent says a direct share must come from somewhere. Of course it must. No responsible person disputes that. But the example establishes only that a department cannot add unlimited new expenses without changing its finances. It does not establish which expenditures are unavoidable, whether existing spending can be adjusted, whether additional commercial revenue can be generated, or whether a modest athlete compensation commitment can be incorporated into future budgets. Most importantly, it does not explain why the existing $40 million in spending should be treated as untouchable while even a small payment to athletes is treated as financially unacceptable. Every dollar spent on a coach, a facility, or an administrator also has an opportunity cost. My opponent cannot apply that economic principle to athlete compensation while ignoring its application to every other spending decision. And there is documented evidence that these spending pressures did not originate with revenue sharing. The Government Accountability Office found that 94 percent of Division I athletic departments spent more than they generated in 2023–24, before the current direct-payment system began. It also found that median athletic spending at Power conference institutions increased by 81 percent between 2014–15 and 2023–24, substantially exceeding inflation over that period. That does not mean every expenditure was unnecessary. It means college athletics already faced serious questions about spending priorities long before athletes began receiving direct institutional revenue-sharing payments. My opponent’s argument never establishes why withholding compensation from athletes is the appropriate solution to those longstanding problems. Now consider their criticism of the House settlement. They correctly point out that 307 schools making payments does not prove those payments were fair or financially sustainable. I agree. But it establishes that direct compensation is operationally possible across 33 conferences and 45 sports. It also establishes that schools are not all required to distribute the same amount. The settlement is evidence of implementation, not proof of perfection. And that distinction actually strengthens my argument, because the proposition before us is not that the House settlement is flawless. It is that college athletes deserve a direct share of athletic revenue. Those are not identical claims. My opponent is trying to defeat the principle by identifying imperfections in one particular implementation. But a poorly designed compensation arrangement does not establish that compensation itself is unjustified. And now I want to address the most serious concern my opponent raises: protecting smaller sports and ordinary students. I agree that those protections matter. If universities increase mandatory student fees simply to finance excessive athlete payments, that deserves criticism. If schools eliminate valuable athletic opportunities to sustain an irresponsible recruiting arms race, that deserves scrutiny too. But those consequences are not unavoidable features of every revenue-sharing model. A responsible system could require institutions to identify the commercial revenue supporting athlete payments, disclose their allocation decisions, establish compensation commitments appropriate to their financial capacity, and protect scholarships and participation opportunities. It could also establish independent oversight and safeguards against shifting excessive costs onto students. Those would be additional protections, not claims about safeguards the current system already guarantees. My opponent asks who sets the amount. That is precisely why a fair system needs transparent criteria and accountability rather than leaving compensation entirely to unrestricted administrative preference. But notice the alternative my opponent is effectively defending. Under their reasoning, a university can allocate commercial revenue to coaches, administrators, facilities, and other athletic programs, yet the athletes whose performances help create that revenue should receive no direct share because the department has other financial obligations. How is that arrangement inherently fairer? My opponent acknowledges that athletes are essential contributors. They acknowledge that administrators can manipulate spending priorities. They acknowledge that the existing system involves financial discretion. Yet instead of arguing for stronger accountability over the distribution of athletic revenue, they use those same problems to oppose athletes receiving a portion of it. That conclusion does not follow. There is also a distinction between saying athletes deserve a share and saying every institution must pay the same amount. A financially constrained university should not be required to imitate a wealthy football program. Payment levels should reflect commercial revenue, institutional resources, and legitimate obligations. I am not defending an inflexible percentage of gross revenue that overrides scholarships or forces smaller sports to disappear. I am defending a financially responsible arrangement in which athletes have a meaningful claim to the commercial value they help generate. And that is a principle my opponent has never successfully refuted. They have shown that revenue sharing has costs. I agree. They have shown that the current system does not guarantee fairness. I agree. They have shown that athletic departments face difficult financial choices. I agree. But none of those points establishes that excluding athletes from direct compensation is fairer, more sustainable, or necessary to protect other students. Their argument confuses the need to regulate compensation with a reason to reject compensation. It treats existing institutional spending as a financial necessity while treating athlete compensation as an optional burden. And it demands that athletes justify their place in the budget under a standard that is not consistently applied to the other people and institutions benefiting from their performances. The question is not whether money has to come from somewhere. It always does. The question is whether athletes deserve to be included when institutions decide where that money goes. If a university can recognize the economic value of athletic performance when collecting broadcasting revenue, sponsorship money, and ticket sales, it should also recognize that contribution when determining compensation. Protect smaller sports. Protect scholarships. Protect students from unreasonable fees. Require transparent budgets and responsible spending. But do not use those legitimate responsibilities as a blanket justification for excluding athletes from the revenue they help create. A fair system does not promise that every institution can spend without limits. It ensures that financial limits are applied responsibly and that the athletes are not automatically placed last. My opponent has explained why revenue sharing must be designed carefully. They have not established why college athletes should be denied a direct share. That is the distinction that matters, and that is why I remain firmly FOR direct athletic revenue sharing