I’m not a fan of government involvement in most things. Don’t get me wrong, I love America and democracy. But trusting politicians? I’d put that right up there with trusting my fiancée to leave Target under budget or trusting lettuce from Taco Bell.
That probably doesn’t mean much to anyone still hung up on the diarrhea parasite reference, which I cannot believe is a real thing in 2026 and not a disgusting Mad Lib written by a middle schooler.
I’m especially not a fan of government involvement in college sports. The same people who barely show up to work unless it involves ego-stroking press or talking about their own re-election campaign don’t feel like the best group to fix college sports. And, sadly, I’d rather spend my time fixing college football than the potholes on Government Street that are like landmines for my new Goodyears.
College football has lacked leadership for quite some time. College football may have never had real leadership. But, what is currently happening is even more disgusting than ever before, which is saying something considering how recklessly loose the transfer portal, coaching buyouts and NIL contracts have become in just the last five years.
I wasn’t that worried that NIL was going to ruin college sports. The naive optimist in me just kind of assumed it would all work out. It would be an adjustment for sure, but after the initial chaos would come normalcy.
My biggest fear was that a select few schools like Oregon, Texas, Texas A&M and Ohio State would now be even more perennially relevant because of their deep pockets and thirst for winning. Oregon would spend twice as much as everyone else, widening the gap between the sport’s haves and have-nots. This hasn’t been nearly as concerning as the new fear that’s taken over college football: corruption.
There has been some level of corruption in the sport throughout its history, but not at the current level. During the Brendan Sorsby ordeal, it became very clear that Texas Tech had little concern about doing the right thing. They weren’t entirely to blame, but the way it was handled made Sherrone Moore look like a model citizen. All of it was bad, and all of it was, seemingly, over. That was until Wednesday.
That’s when the least shocking news surfaced. During the back and forth between Sorsby’s camp, the Attorney General of the state of Texas, Ken Paxton, stepped in. In a letter he wrote to the Big 12 Conference, he warned that any sanction on Texas Tech would be “unlawful” and potentially leave them open to as much $200 million in damages.
Political pissing contests aren’t exactly new, especially in Texas. Grandstanding on behalf of a state school is one thing. Doing it the day after receiving a $274,300 campaign donation from Texas Tech booster Cody Campbell is another.
You know what’s worse than betting $25 on Chinese table tennis at 2 a.m.? Receiving campaign money from the very people asking you to defend decisions they don’t want to answer for. Attempting to fix one morally compromised situation by making an even more morally compromised decision is wild.
And everyone thought Dodge Chargers and $100 handshakes were bad.
None of this should have been surprising. I love capitalism as much as the next red-blooded American, but trying to tell a billionaire no is like telling Dabo Swinney to not say something stupid in front of a microphone. Good luck. Now, someone has to figure out how to punish the culprits and make sure it doesn’t happen again.
After watching the brass in Lubbock handle the Sorsby situation with their roundtable discussion of idiocy, you know they’re not going to be the adults in the room. So where does the leadership come from? The NCAA? Good one. Or maybe a commissioner expected to act objectively while constantly being accused of serving someone else’s interests.
The wildest part is that so much of the current turmoil can be traced back to one school, in one conference, with one person who never mattered before two years ago. If that’s enough to shake the sport this much, maybe the foundation wasn’t as solid as we thought.
