Thoughts From the Big House

November 9, 2026

Greetings from the fan,

This weekend I attended a football game, an event that comes about as often as Supreme Court appointments.  My job was to shout incoherent advice from the bleachers, which I did with great gusto. The value of that advice was minimal, but based on sound principles:

“Come on,” I shouted, “move the ball!”

Somewhat rudimentary, I’ll admit, but I like to think my exhortations were as helpful as any of the 107,000 other spectators. 

The game was an annual grudge match between two big schools in my state. My commitment to either team was tied at exactly at zero.  One might wonder why I would spend an ungodly amount of money on tickets to attend a game that I knew nothing about between two teams I had little interest in. My brother said, ‘Hold my beer.’

Doug, my brother, and his far more intelligent wife, Lee, flew from California, on a markedly inconvenient red eye, to watch this game. Neither of them attended either of the competing colleges, or had any particular interest in the outcome of the game.  They traveled over 4000 miles to spend a long weekend in Michigan so they could stand in the cold and watch strangers yell advice to the only 22 college students on campus who were not drunk.

There were marching bands, dance teams, celebrities, push up contests, and a variety of game day traditions we didn’t understand but participated in.  All of this was meant to distract us from the fact that there was a football game going on.

Part of the attraction for me was to see the team’s star quarterback.  He is 19, an amateur athlete, and is being paid about $12 million dollars to play football while studying for a career in whatever Ai will make obsolete next.  You might ask, “David, how can an amateur college athlete be making $12 million to play football?”  In fact, he wasn’t.  Playing football, that is, since he was on the bench, sent there to improve his ROI.

The answer to your question (which I heard you all shouting from the bleachers) exists in new legal precedent; my expertise in law is only slightly more restricted than may expertise in sports, but allow me to elucidate.

First, there is NIL. This is money paid to the bedraggled athletes for using their name, image or likeness to promote energy drinks they use while sitting on the bench. This money is provided by what is referred to as ‘boosters’. (If you accidently google ‘Bustiers’ it will take you to boosters of another sort) The rest of the money is now funneled from ‘revenue sharing’ with the university, who somehow have billions to spare after charging students for an education they will not likely use.  That may sound cynical, but it is really admiration.

In truth, I barely considered those things, caught up instead in the color and clamor of tens of thousands of people packed into that stadium, alternately celebrating and bemoaning whatever was happening on the field. The energy and passion that flowed from the stands into the streets, that filled the bars and cafes, that drove music and laughter and romance in every place we looked, that’s what I really was witnessing.

And while we are speaking truth, my brother and Lee didn’t simply fly to Michigan to see a game they could have watched on their phone at the beach in La Jolla. 

All weekend we spent celebrating, but nothing to do with sports, really.  Doug and Lee were part of three days of stories and food and beer and coffee and just connecting with our family.  We relived some history, drove down old streets, and through memories they provoked, and probably above all, we laughed.

I love to laugh but my brother somehow brings out a new gear from me.  At one point in the weekend I was laughing so hard I drooled on the floor. I actually pulled a muscle in my neck from laughing at ridiculously ordinary things.  The thing is, my brother is really not that funny.

These people, my siblings, my family, my friends, the people I meet who are on their way to being friends, those are the ones whose NIL I care about.

Before the game we met with my sister Dawn and her husband Tom for dinner, and just as we stood up to walk to the game I said, “Honestly I could be talked into just sitting here and yakking with you all for the next few hours.”  As much fun as the game was, I think it might have been time better spent.

Hope this finds you cheering,

David

This essay was written by the author and does not include Ai content.

Copyright © 2026 David Smith