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What’s the state of college football as the 2025-26 season comes to an end? Better than ever? Tetering towards disaster? It probably depends on who you ask. One thing is for certain: much has changed.
College football has always been big business, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. But in 2025, that often-messy reality continued to spiral out into plain view, occupying headline-writers and Twitter trolls alike year-round. Despite the quality of the games themselves from Aug. 23 to Jan. 19 (yes, Jan. 19), the subplot of college football’s business world continues to simmer louder than ever.
And the pace of change seems to be reaching a boil.
If you want some perspective, let’s take a look back on the year that was in college football. We have come a long way since January 2025’s Ohio State victory over Notre Dame in the College Football Playoff national championship.
In June, Judge Claudia Wilken of the Northern District of California brought to an end one saga, approving the terms of the House v. NCAA settlement. Along with $2.8 billion in backpay to former athletes, the settlement paved the way for schools to begin paying players directly. The agreement laid out a $20.5 million salary cap for 2025-26. By September, it was clear that schools planned to skirt those rules, and we still couldn’t be sure how much universities are spending as the Times Square ball dropped in 2026.
In July, President Trump claimed to save college sports with an executive order. Congress claimed to have already done so when republican lawmakers introduced the SCORE Act, which would codify the House settlement. In September, democratic lawmakers countered with the SAFE Act. All three have stalled.
In this neck of the woods, we’ve seen the dissolution of long cultural ties. In December, reporters confirmed that Notre Dame and USC would not renew their storied rivalry for the foreseeable future. Private equity has threatened other cultural cornerstones,
including in the Big Ten, Michigan was a founding member in 1896. But when the Wolverines opposed the conference’s pending cash infusion from UC investments, University regent Jordan Acker told SiriusXM radio that “the possibility of independence for football is certainly something that has to be considered... Not because we want to leave the Big Ten Conference, [but] because the commissioner's office has made it enormously clear that they're going without us. That would be the end of Michigan, as far as I can see, in the Big Ten Conference.”
That was back in October. And yes, Congress tried to get involved then, too, with Washington Republican representative Michael Baumgartner introducing the “Protect College Sports from Private Equity and Foreign Influence Act” and democratic colleague Maria Cantwell penning a letter to Big Ten officials.
The deal stalled in November, thanks to the (dare I say) courage of Michigan and USC. In December, the University of Utah showed none of that mattered, becoming the first college athletic department to accept private equity dollars.
The rate of personnel change was dizzying in itself. More and more programs hired big-name general managers to keep up, while others fired head coaches early and often. And how could anyone forget the Lane Kiffin saga in November, when the Ole Miss head coach left a playoff-bound national title contender to join LSU... because he saw better chances of winning a national championship there. Rumor has it ESPN reporter Marty Smith is still stuck in Oxford.
Coaches weren’t the only ones changing locations faster than anyone can keep track of. As of Jan. 10, 2026, roughly 6,200 Division I players had entered the transfer portal. A little back- of-the-napkin math finds that there are about 28,000 Division I football players to begin with, meaning that over a fifth of all players want a change of scenery.
Many enter the transfer portal seeking not only a better playing situation, but also a better financial one. Those name, image an likeness deals have a few times led to awkward situations. In December, Georgia sued former defensive end Damon Wilson for the $390K he received before transferring to Missouri. Wilson, for his part, countersued, claiming he signed a non-binding contract. The situation nearly occurred again in early January at Washington, which considered suing quarterback Demond Williams when he entered the transfer portal. Williams opted to return “after thoughtful reflection.”
For me, one of the most pointed episodes of the year in off-field drama came when I was scrolling through my socials feed in early December. I came across the video of an emotional Kansas State athletic director, Gene Taylor. Sitting at a podium with his arms crossed over his chest, his head and shoulders tilted stiffly backwards, Taylor was attempting to keep his feelings in check as he announced the retirement of head football coach Chris Klieman.
“You just saw one of the greatest guys in this industry walk out of this room, and retire from coaching, from the business that he loves, and what really pisses me off is he’s doing it because of where we are in this industry,” Taylor began. “If we don’t get this thing under control, more really, really good guys like Chris Klieman are going to walk away from this business.”
“You just saw one of the greatest guys in this industry walk out of this room, and retire from coaching, from the business that he loves, and what really pisses me off is he’s doing it because of where we are in this industry,” Taylor began. “If we don’t get this thing under control, more really, really good guys like Chris Klieman are going to walk away from this business.”
Taylor’s words were strong, stronger than Klieman’s, who had just spoken moments before in very measured tones. He was “at peace” with his retirement. Taylor? Not so much.
“It really hurts me that guys like Chris Klieman are leaving because what they came into the business for is different,” Taylor continued. “Doesn’t mean it’s wrong, it’s just different.”
At face value, Taylor is correct. It’s not wrong, it’s just different. But if we really, really care about the game of college football, shouldn’t we pause on that sentiment? Because let’s face it: Klieman’s actions suggest otherwise — that maybe something about the whole situation is wrong. Sure, on a business level, lawsuits, legislation and private equity bailouts are not usually signs of a healthy industry. But let’s put industry thinking on hold for a moment. What about the human element?
For his part, Klieman didn’t mince words. Speaking with the Manhattan Mercury recently, the veteran coach spoke of the conditions surrounding his retirement.
“I’ve been doing this for 35 years, (but) I’d die if I kept doing this job,” Klieman told the Kansas paper on Jan. 10. “If I kept doing this job, I was gonna have a heart attack, or I was gonna have a stroke. My blood pressure was through the roof.”
You could argue that Klieman just didn’t want to keep up with the demands of college football today. You could argue that doesn’t mean anything is wrong, just because one man found this changing industry wasn’t for him anymore. And both those things are true.
But it’s also true that to become a Division I college football head coach, two things (at least) are necessary: first, you must deeply love the game of football. And second, you must be exceptionally talented at understanding and teaching the game of football. Does college football want to even risk turning away its most talented and passionate? Does any industry? Is this how college football wants to treat its best people?
Time for my soapbox. Have you noticed me climbing up onto it?
The world of college football changes fast. To evaluate any change in the sport, though, we must ask this central question: Is it good for the sport?
Answering that question means answering another first: who is the sport for? Is college football for the coaches? For the players? Is college football a public good, part of our cultural heritage, by nature for the fans, the community? Is it for education? For entertainment? For profit? For television?
Look at any recent development within the sport — from conference realignment to the transfer portal to name, image, and likeness — and you’ll find a beneficiary, or a few. The interests of these beneficiaries overlap and diverge, and more often than not conflict. Each has something to say about what college football truly values. Each has something different to say about what is good for college football.
That makes the current state of college football not a legal question, a legislative question, a moral question, or even an economic question. No, the state of college football today is an existential one — a question of purpose. Who does college football want to be for?
I don’t have the answer to that question. But I’ll make one suggestion before riding off into the sunset of my Student Media career: if you’re looking to solve college football’s existential tendency toward entropy, emphasize the people. What’s good for the players, the coaches and the fans as humans — not as pawns in some theatrical narrative — will be good for college football. Education, fair wages, humane working conditions and strong communities are usually good for people. College football can be a beacon of hope in all
these areas.
Ultimately, though, the solution will fall on the next generation of players, coaches, administrators and fans. Farewell, 2025, and hello, future of college football. It’s up to us, so let me ask you: what kind of college football do you want to see?