The NCAA’s Biggest Gamble Yet: Why It Should Avoid Turning Student-Athletes into Betting Risks
OPENING STATEMENTS
The NCAA recently announced a policy allowing college athletes to legally bet on professional sports starting November 1, which, coincidentally, was the same week the FBI indicted NBA coach Chauncey Billups and player Terry Rozier in a game-fixing scheme. Within days, the NCAA backtracked after widespread backlash from athletic directors, conference commissioners, and compliance officials. SEC Commissioner Greg Sankey called the proposal “a major step in the wrong direction,” while Pittsburgh football coach Pat Narduzzi put it more bluntly: “absolutely one of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever seen.”
The policy is now delayed until later this month as the Division I Board reviews it. Member schools have 30 days to vote to rescind or uphold the proposal, which will be rescinded unless at least 75 percent of members vote to uphold it.
This is becoming a familiar pattern: bold rule changes made in isolation, followed by confusion and damage control that leave student-athletes vulnerable.
As usual, the NCAA couched self-interest in the language of reform, presenting the policy as a victory for athlete autonomy – a modernization for a post–PASPA era. But autonomy without protection isn’t progress…it’s negligence.
Betting is not just a pastime. It’s a system built on risk and secrecy. I see at least six major reasons why this trading of athlete well-being for entertainment value is so harmful to players and games themselves:
Exposes college players – many who are under the legal gambling age – to manipulation and financial risk while they’re still learning to manage fame and pressure;
Threatens the integrity of college sports by opening doors to insider leaks, game-fixing, and blurred lines between athlete and bettor;
Leaves young athletes vulnerable to harassment, especially online, where betting-related abuse spikes during major tournaments;
Normalizes gambling and increases the risk of addiction before they ever turn pro;
Deepens the mental health struggles already rampant in college athletics, amplifying anxiety and isolation;
Conditions athletes entering the pros to view betting as part of the game, only exacerbating the problems we’re seeing at the elite level.
History alone should make the NCAA wary. From the Brooklyn Five to CCNY to Boston College. Just this September, three men's basketball players from Fresno State and San Jose State lost their eligibility permanently for betting on their own games, sharing insider information, and manipulating outcomes to win bets.
And those cases were not isolated – the NCAA announced ongoing investigations into approximately 30 other current or former student-athletes for similar violations, spanning at least six additional schools. A recent NCAA survey found that, despite clear prohibitions, 22% of male athletes and 5% of female athletes admitted to wagering on sports in 2024, suggesting these violations may be just the tip of the iceberg.
Instead of learning from those cases, the NCAA is repeating the same mistakes: prioritizing policy over protection, headlines over health. Legalizing what has long been a major compliance hazard invites confusion at best and career-threatening consequences at worst.
What protections exist if gamblers target athletes for information or intimidation? What happens when draft-eligible athletes bet on the leagues they’re about to enter? Or professional players, like G-Leaguers returning to college competition, who have already participated in betting markets? And what about casual conversations between college athletes and former teammates now in the pros — when does that slip into insider information?
The current framework leaves too much grey area – and in that gray area lies danger. Athletes deserve clear rules, not reactive policies or vague warnings. The NCAA’s role is supposed to safeguard college sports and the people who make them possible. Right now, it’s failing at both.
Until the organization learns to make decisions with the best interests of the student-athlete in mind, every new policy will remain another crutch in its long history of misplaced priorities.
EXHIBIT A
The NCAA’s latest emergency legislation on NIL reporting raises more red flags than it resolves. Under the new rule, D1 athletes risk immediate ineligibility if NIL deals aren’t properly reported. Once a school “discovers” a potential unreported deal, it has just two days to investigate and notify the CSC. Miss that window, and the athlete is ruled ineligible.
It’s a perverse incentive structure, effectively rewarding willful ignorance and encouraging institutions to keep distance from collectives and boosters to avoid triggering the two-day clock – an unrealistic timeline. This sets the stage for immense legal friction: conflicts between athletes and institutions, competing obligations to third parties, and inevitable due process challenges. Athletes have every right to seek legal representation during these review periods, and should do so to avoid jeopardizing their eligibility or becoming collateral damage in a compliance process stacked against them.
EXHIBIT B
Things have heated up since last week’s discussion on college coach buyouts. Following Brian Kelly’s firing, Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry made headlines declaring that LSU Athletic Director Scott Woodward “is not selecting the next coach,” adding, “Hell, I’ll let Donald Trump select it before I let him do it” and promising that “the next coach we hire is going to have a patently different contract.”
At the same time, Washington Rep. Michael Baumgartner introduced a bill proposing a limited antitrust exemption to cap college football coaching salaries – specifically at ten times the cost of a school’s tuition and fees. It’s unlikely to gain serious traction, but it reinforces the growing public discomfort with runaway compensation at the top. Under this proposal, USC’s head coach salary would cap at roughly $682,000; Michigan State’s at $434,000; Penn State’s at $402,000.
Here’s the irony: the same institutions and policymakers who recoil at limiting coach pay are often comfortable capping athlete compensation. If we truly value fairness and fiscal responsibility in college sports, that principle must cut both ways.
ON THE DOCKET
I’m closely watching the Brantmeier v. NCAA case unfold. This class-action lawsuit, brought by UNC tennis player Reese Brantmeier, challenges the NCAA’s long-standing restrictions on student-athletes earning prize money from non-NCAA competitions. The implications are significant. If upheld, it would set a powerful legal precedent, allowing athletes in sports like golf, tennis, and track to profit from their individual success without jeopardizing eligibility. The NCAA could face major liability exposure and mounting pressure to abandon its traditional amateurism model. The trial is set for more than a year from now, but its outcome could be the next step in recognizing college athletes as professionals in all but name.
FOOTNOTES
“Rather than applying federal law, the Settlement intentionally excluded Title IX from its damages calculations, resulting in a grossly inequitable distribution in which over 90% of compensation is allocated to male student-athletes.”
- A group of four female athletes via a Oct. 28 brief to the Ninth Circuit objecting to the NCAA’s $2.8 billion player-pay settlement.
