Okay, folks, here I am, about to dive into the crazy whirlpool of college sports drama. Strap in. So, you’ve got some college athlete trying to snag fair market value for their god-given talents. Enter the usual grandstanding—those loud keyboard warriors who like to wave their swords for the industry’s sake over the athlete’s. Every. Single. Time. Right?
Case in point: our buddy Nico Iamaleava, who just did an unexpected vanishing act from Tennessee. Like, poof! And why? Money talks went public, and poof again. Exhibit A: Reactions on social media. Everyone suddenly morphs into Shakespeare with hot takes like:
“College football’s a joke! Might as well be semi-pro! Accountability, folks!”
“Nico—I mean, you’re not even trying to be discreet with this holdout thing, buddy! You act pro, you get treated pro. Lesson learned.”
“Tennessee’s tough stance—ah, refreshing!”
Now, cue my curiosity. Who are these supposed ancient minds behind such comments? Let’s play connect-the-dots: Micah Parsons (NFL dude), Emmanuel Acho (former college football star, now on Fox), and Courtney Cronin (ESPN chick). You’d think they’d root for Nico, but nope, plot twists happen.
Anyway, Acho goes and tweets about the state of college football. A tongue-in-cheek moment? Definitely. He’s saying, pretty much, that actual contracts and collective bargaining should be the destination of this crazy ride. Which, fair—although dude also poked at Nico for maybe overstepping. Called it an “X” post or something. Seriously, who names these things?
And please, can we not throw a bone to the NCAA’s last-ditch Hail Mary for political help? It’s like asking a fish to ride a bicycle—the courts have the right idea by telling them to back off. But speaking of the NCAA, why are they like this? Seriously, who thought a “clearinghouse” to vet name, image, and likeness deals was a savvy idea? Lawmakers—I’ve seen more terrifying proposals come from these folks than from a horror movie sequel.
Let’s state the obvious: college teams will pay players what they’re worth because that’s, hello, survival 101 in the business world. Winning’s priceless, and losing? No thanks. So, we should figure out a nice little compromise. What’s that you ask? Oh, just the athletes—(oops, I mean “Student Athlete Employees” if you want to get particular)—have a fair share. Actual revenue partitioning for high-achievers with good performance records, multiyear deals, and buyouts on the table.
Weird, right? No free-for-all agency. Let’s aim for no kiddie pinball effect—jumping from school to school, dizzying from the money spins, but maybe losing a little bit more than you bargained for when education takes a back seat. Here’s a moisturizing toner for thought.
Back to Iamaleava-ville. Let’s stabilize this crazy train. Tennessee stood its ground when our quarterback buddy decided skipping practice was a good idea. Karma, huh? A raise is a sort of reward, a “you did good” gold star, but Nico didn’t quite hit the Heisman horn. Thus, life imagineering happened.
In an alternate perfect universe, if he’d pulled a Heisman-caliber season as a redshirt freshie, that raise might’ve slipped right into his bank account, no complaints. Tennessee, holding the line—good move, since skipping practice and meetings pulls the floor out from merit.
But hey, this anti-athlete hot air balloon floating around? It’s thinner than pretense. Take note, if you’re a Vols fan, cheerfully siding with Coach Heupel and vilifying Nico—know if Heupel gets a knock from Ohio State offering a pot of gold, you bet his agent answers. Reality plays its cunning hand.
Props to On3’s Pete Nakos, who captures the buzz surrounding Nico’s exit and the whole he-said/vs-dad-said drama—Dad Iamaleava sticking it to “Nakos” on some platform. Credit where credit’s due? Absolutely. But professionally speaking, it’s all quite bananas. Friday came and Nico skipped practice. Boom—endgame.
It’s a nutty world—Quarterback Dads, Student Athletes trying to be Employees, Coaches waving midnight oil, well-meaning Administrators, politicians who are somehow still politicians, fans angry about someone else’s life choices, and writers like me trying to untangle all this. If anything, our dear Quarterback Dad made the “ancient” keyboard warriors look smarter. Go figure, right?
