The Room That Finally Got It Right
OPENING STATEMENTS
Yesterday morning, at the Allen Sack National Symposium on Advancing Integrity in College Sport, something happened that so rarely does when talk turns to “fixing” college athletics: the microphones belonged to college athletes. Not just commissioners, university presidents, or lobbyists. Current and recent athletes stepped forward to describe what the new era of college sports actually feels like in practice - on buses, in training rooms, in classrooms, and in the quiet moments when a scholarship is suddenly gone or a season ends in seconds.
They were not the handful of stars already featured on billboards or signing seven‑figure NIL deals. They were the ones who usually get edited out of the narrative: a Howard guard helping lead an HBCU program on and off the court; a freshman distance runner who objected to the House v. NCAA settlement in federal court; a former Navy defensive end now in limbo because of transfer‑portal timing; a graduate‑transfer basketball player whose Georgetown career ended on her very first play but who remains a voice for mental health; a lacrosse recruit cut before she ever played because of projected roster limits; a freshman All‑America gymnast bent on excelling in both competition and pre‑professional training; a Georgia golfer juggling SEC competition, academics, and leadership.
Their message, in different ways, was the same: the courts may still be debating the future of college sports, but athletes are already living the consequences every day. And no fix to the current system has a real chance of succeeding without these voices and experiences having a seat at the table.
House v. NCAA and related cases have been sold as a turning point, ushering in direct revenue sharing and a more professional structure for college sports. But the stories on that stage made clear that changing where the money flows does not, by itself, produce integrity. For some athletes, the new model has meant being cut to make room for roster limits tied to settlement math, losing both a team and a scholarship before their careers really begin. For others, it has meant navigating uncertainty when injuries strike, or discovering that the calendar of transfer rules can wipe out options even for proven contributors.
What united them was not a single policy demand, but a shared experience of decisions made far away, by conferences, commissions, and courts, landing directly on their bodies, their timelines, their academic paths. They underscored that college sports is being redesigned in rooms where athletes, and particularly those outside of football and basketball, are not present, and that the cost of that exclusion is borne by the very people the system claims to serve.
The symposium’s power lay in how ordinary the athletes’ daily realities sounded, and how rarely those realities shape formal reform. Athletes talked about travel, practice, managing injuries, keeping up with coursework, and planning for futures that may or may not involve professional sports. They described the pressure of knowing that a coach, a compliance office, or a new roster formula could change everything, often without explanation.
That is why “athlete voice” cannot mean a single student‑athlete advisory council representative added at the end of a flowchart, or one or two handpicked stars flown in to bless a pre‑written plan. The panel at Howard showed what a different approach looks like: start by asking athletes what is actually happening on campus, across sports and levels, and build from there.
If integrity in college sports is going to mean anything in the wake of House, it has to start with this premise: no new governance structure, no revenue‑sharing model, no Title IX “solution” is legitimate if athletes are not in the room helping design it. The path forward is not complicated, even if the implementation will be. Real reform means:
Building governance structures where athletes from a broad cross‑section of sports, conferences, and backgrounds have formal power, not token advisory roles.
Designing revenue‑sharing and roster models with every sport in mind from the start, instead of cutting non‑revenue athletes later to make the math work.
Treating the experience of a freshman gymnast, a walk‑on distance runner, or a women’s golfer as just as central to the “future of college athletics” as the next Heisman candidate.
There is no serious argument anymore that college sports can stay the same. The courts, the money, and the public have moved on. The question is who gets to shape what comes next. The athletes at Howard made the answer plain: if change does not reflect all of Division I, it will not last.
EXHIBIT A
Last week, we talked about the meaning of private equity’s acquisition of Learfield, one of the most prominent multimedia rights providers in college sports. This week’s motion from plaintiffs’ lawyers helps explain it in black and white. They’re asking the court to declare that apparel companies and third‑party multimedia rights providers are not “associated entities” under the College Sports Commission’s authority. That’s huge, because the CSC’s main job is enforcing the $20.5 million revenue‑sharing cap by policing those associated entities. If multimedia partners like Learfield get moved out of that bucket, there’s an entirely new lane for off‑cap spending, and significant opportunity for TPG.
EXHIBIT B
This piece from Kyle Saunders is an essential read for those following college sports, as it pieces together three legal “shields” that have held up the NCAA’s national model, all cracking at once. Saunders’ essay connects three pillars of that architecture and traces how each is now under direct attack. First is NCAA v. Tarkanian, the 1988 Supreme Court case that let the NCAA operate as something other than a state actor, now vulnerable to political intervention. Second is the College Sports Commission’s enforcement authority under the House settlement, which the plaintiffs who built it are now asking courts to strip. Third is the $20.5 million revenue-sharing cap, which conference leaders increasingly describe as dead on arrival. Saunders’ bottom line: the NCAA isn’t losing a case; it’s losing its shields.
ON THE DOCKET
A little bit of tooting our own horn here. Emily Staker, a new attorney at Christine Brown & Partners, is developing an NIL survival guide. Published in four parts, the first one is up on her LinkedIn and focuses what student-athletes and their families should know about choosing an NIL agent. Follow her for more in the coming weeks.
FOOTNOTES
$19.75 million
The new average annual salaries for 2 Alabama coaches, Kalen DeBoer and Nate Oates
