The Changing Game Leads to Nostalgia (Before Money Took Over)
When I was a kid, college sports was a game of passion, tradition, and regional pride. Granted, that was a long time ago. Schools across the country, big and small, competed on a more level playing field. Sure, there were powerhouse programs (like my Nebraska football program), but on any given Saturday, an underdog could rise up and pull off a stunning upset. Fans didn’t talk about TV contracts or NIL deals—they talked about legendary rivalries, the grit of the players, and the magic of the game itself.
Fast forward fifty years, and the landscape is almost unrecognizable. The latest news out of UNLV, where the school admitted IN A PUBLIC REGENT’S MEETING it can only afford the first two years of its new football coach’s contract, is just another sign of how college athletics has become an arms race that only a select few can win. A five-year, $17.5 million contract for a coach at a school that struggles to fill half its stadium? That’s not just a financial gamble—it’s a reflection of how drastically the priorities in college sports have shifted.
It wasn’t that long ago that college sports was built on regional recruiting and homegrown talent. A program like UNLV, or any mid-tier school, could compete if they developed players the right way. It was about coaching, discipline, and teamwork—less about which school could offer the biggest paycheck.
Now, with the advent of Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) deals and the transfer portal, the richest programs can essentially buy the best rosters year after year. The traditional model of recruiting—where a coach could mold a team over four years—is vanishing. Players now have the power to jump ship if a better deal comes along. Loyalty to a school, a coach, or even a community is increasingly rare.
And who can blame them? If a 19-year-old kid is offered life-changing money to transfer, why wouldn’t he take it? But as a fan, I can’t help but feel like something has been lost. When I was younger, the beauty of college sports was that it felt like something different from the professional leagues. The money, the endorsements, the constant wheeling and dealing—that was for the NFL. College football was where the game still felt pure.
The trend we’re seeing with schools like UNLV—struggling to keep up financially while others rake in millions—is only going to widen the gap between the haves and have-nots. And at some point, fans will start to tune out.
Sure, a very limited number of powerhouse schools will always have packed stadiums. But what about the majority, the same smaller programs, the ones that used to thrive on passion and community support? What happens when people realize their alma mater will never again have a legitimate shot at competing on a national level? When the sport starts to feel like an exclusive club for the wealthiest few schools, many of us who grew up loving the game might just walk away.
I miss the days when college football wasn’t just about money. When rivalries mattered more than revenue. When players stayed for four years and built something lasting. When you could follow a player over the four years, watching them grow into a star on the team. I worry that those days are gone for good. And if they are, then maybe, for many of us, so is the sports we once loved.
