Kenny Dillingham says he was never offered the Michigan job. Never got to that point.
This, of course, isn’t the story nor the takeaway from Dillingham’s dalliance with the Wolverines.
The irony of the state of Arizona’s highest-paid public employee, and the Arizona State coach, begging for private donations to compete at the highest level of college football is where this bizarre story begins.
“We live in Phoenix, Arizona. You’re telling me there’s not one person who could stroke a $20 million check right now?” Dillingham said after agreeing to a new contract worth more than $37 million over the next five years.
That’s right, the guy whose future could never be more secure, sees the immediate horizon line for the Arizona State football program. And frankly, it’s financially unstable at best — and a house of cards at worst.
It’s Arizona State today, but could be Kansas State or Colorado or North Carolina State or Virginia Tech or Boise State — or any of the other 100-plus Bowl Subdivision teams not protected by the golden parachute of the Big Ten and SEC.
Coaches at those 34 schools in the two big conferences — many of those institutions born on third base from long-term association with the leagues before the financial boom of television media rights — aren’t publicly calling out dignitaries and alums associated with their schools.
They’re not standing during a media availability and pleading for the next Cody Campbell to please step up. Or else.
Dillingham made it very clear that college football is about those who wish to spend money, and those who don’t. This isn’t about revenue sharing between schools and players, this is all about private NIL funding.
This is about the dirty underbelly of the sport that can’t be legally controlled. A growing vice that doubles and triples the obstacles faced by conferences chasing the Big Ten and SEC.
It’s bad enough that mega media rights deals give the Big Ten and SEC a huge competitive advantage over the rest of college football. It’s downright sinister that those same schools have deep pocket boosters willing to spend tens of millions in private NIL deals to eliminate all doubt.
Sam Leavitt led Arizona State to the Big 12 title and the College Football Playoff in 2024, and returned to Tempe this season for another run. A foot injury ended his season early, and now he’s headed to the transfer portal looking for a new home.
Not because he doesn’t think he can win big with the Sun Devils — he already proved that. He’s in the portal, like so many other players, to strike when its hot and score a deal before moving onto the NFL.
What are the odds he signs with a Big Ten or SEC school? A program which has boosters that can pay him an outrageous salary through a private NIL deal.
Do you really blame Leavitt?
Do you really blame Campbell, Texas Tech’s billionaire booster, who built a championship-level team with a $25 million roster — and the Red Raiders responded by winning the Big 12 and earning a first round bye in the CFP?
They’re just following the rules, and until a different set of rules is in place, they’ll take advantage of it.
That’s why Dillingham sounded like a panhandler last weekend, begging — literally begging someone, anyone, in The Valley to jump on board and throw money at the program. He even specifically called out school alums Phil Mickelson and Jon Rahm.
Hey, Kenny, while you’re at it, why not place a call to the sheiks in Saudi Arabia? See if their Public Investment Fund (PIF) is interested in sports washing with the second-most popular sport in America.
Because if you’re reaching out to Mickelson and Rahm, you’re reaching out to the Saudis — who own LIV Golf — by proxy. The only difference between the PIF and Utah’s new $500 million agreement with Otro Capital is one group of investors has a long line of human rights violations.
The other is a financial shark, whose only goal is to make money.
Any way they can.
“College football is absolutely chaotic right now,” Dillingham said. “You’ve got to be able to have a plan to be aggressive in this thing for three, four, five years down the road. If you don’t have that, you’re a ticking time bomb for failure.”
This nonsense isn’t going to end until players are considered employees, and players collectively bargain their best deal. Until FBS conferences go to market as one, and sell their games to make double or more than the current market value of $4 billion-plus annually.
That move will allow universities to restrict player movement through multi-year contracts, and find a fair and equitable postseason for all. One that doesn’t include charity for the Group of Five conferences, who have no business in a playoff unless invited based on merit (see: Boise State, 2024).
But that move also means players would go from earning about 20 percent of media rights revenue to likely 45-50 percent. NFL players currently make 48 percent of the media rights.
That’s why the Big Ten and SEC don’t want players collectively bargaining. It has nothing to do with the pollyanna idea sold by conference commissioners that players, “don’t want to be employees.”
If they’re going to earn 20 percent, who wants to deal with the headache of collectively bargaining? Move that number to 45-50 percent, and watch how many players say they’re all in.
Then maybe their coaches wouldn’t have to shamelessly beg for cash, mere hours after signing a new $37 million dollar contract. Or else.
