David Teel: Protect College Sports Act ranges from reasonable to silly
NORFOLK, Va. - College sports lost its chew toy du jour Monday when Texas Tech and quarterback Brendan Sorsby, outflanked by the Big 12's legal muscle, ended their preposterous quest for Sorsby to play this season for the reigning conference champions.
But fret not. In major college athletics, especially during the spring and summer, there is always another off-the-field issue to ignite debate, even outrage.
So ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, let's dive into the Protect College Sports Act, a bill introduced by Sens. Ted Cruz and Maria Cantwell that cleared the Commerce Committee on Thursday and now heads to the full Senate.
But first a few words about Sorsby's gambling saga, the machinations of which relate to the Cruz-Cantwell legislation.
There is not a team sport on the planet that permits its athletes or coaches to bet on their sport. The line is brighter still for wagering on your team, a cardinal sin that has derailed many careers.
The NCAA's gambling posture has long been harsh, if not unreasonable.
Four years ago, the association suspended Virginia Tech linebacker Alan Tisdale for six games - half a season! - after Tisdale self-reported that he placed more than 100 bets totaling about $400 on the NBA Finals. There was no evidence that Tisdale gambled on college football, let alone the Hokies.
Conversely, Sorsby didn't own up and check into rehab until learning that the NCAA was investigating his habitual gambling while a member of the programs at Indiana and Cincinnati. In court documents, Sorsby confessed to wagering at least a combined $90,000 on more than 9,000 bets involving myriad sports, college football included, and that in 2022 he gambled dozens of times on the team to which he then belonged: Indiana.
Banishing Sorsby was the verdict that NCAA policy dictated, and sure enough, the association ruled him ineligible. But if we've learned anything in this time of unquenchable thirst for championships and unregulated pay for athletes, it's that every NCAA eligibility guideline is vulnerable to a friendly local judge.
Enter Ken Curry, a retired judge in Tarrant County, Texas, assigned to Sorsby's legal challenge of the NCAA's punishment. This after the original judge, a Texas Tech graduate, recused himself.
Curry granted Sorsby a temporary injunction pausing the NCAA's sanction and, given how slowly the NCAA's appeal was certain to be heard, gifted the Red Raiders the quarterback they were reportedly paying between $4 million and $5 million.
Absent Texas Tech brass and zealots, college sports recoiled with rare unanimity and volume.
But that wasn't all. Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, who's running for U.S. Senate this fall, publicly warned the Big 12 not to impose its own measures against Sorsby and Texas Tech, grandstanding that prompted the conference to preemptively sue Paxton and the university in federal court.
Checkmate. Sorsby and Texas Tech folded, and Sorsby is off to the NFL supplemental draft.
If only the feds would provide the NCAA limited antitrust protection to set basic eligibility standards, particularly around transfers and career duration, we might be able to mitigate the endless parade to the courthouse.
The Protect College Sports Act would do so. As written, the legislation also would regulate the often-predatory agents in the college space and require power-conference schools to maintain Olympic sport offerings at 2024-25 levels.
But some other provisions range from silly to contentious and jeopardize its passage.
Personifying the silliness is the so-called Lane Kiffin Rule, prohibiting schools from courting or hiring head coaches and coordinators during the season.
Was Kiffin's move from Ole Miss to LSU before the Rebels' College Football Playoff appearance last year awkward and comically selfish? Absolutely.
Moreover, two other playoff coaches, James Madison's Bob Chesney and Tulane's Jon Sumrall, accepted offers from UCLA and Florida, respectively, before postseason, albeit sans Kiffin's diva-like posing.
Such are the unintended consequences of college football's illogical calendar. With national signing day in December and the transfer portal opening Jan. 2, schools have no choice but to poach coaches during the season, lest they risk compromising an entire recruiting class.
While noble, the bill's attempt to prevent the bogus name, image and likeness (NIL) deals also is destined to fail. Such arrangements are camouflaged pay-for-play and designed solely to circumvent the revenue-sharing cap negotiated in last year's House antitrust settlements.
Established by the House settlement to enforce the cap and police NIL, the College Sports Commission already is encountering strong resistance, and absent collective bargaining between athletes and schools or conferences or the NCAA, constant litigation figures to continue, with or without congressional action.
As Tennessee athletic director Danny White tweeted Friday: "There is a way to do this, within the current laws of our country, that rightfully gives the players a voice and can be legally defendable. It's working fairly well for the NBA and NFL. The longer we keep our heads in the sand about our legal reality, the worse things are going to get for college sports."
Cruz's and Cantwell's desire to shape economic and competitive parity in the Football Bowl Subdivision also is evident in a provision that would allow conferences to pool television rights rather than negotiate independent deals with networks. Similar to how professional leagues operate, such a practice might, emphasis on might, produce additional revenue for all.
But pooling assuredly would narrow the massive revenue gap between the industry's wealthiest and most powerful conferences, the Big Ten and SEC, and everyone else. So good luck and Godspeed getting those two leagues onboard merely for the sake of the enterprise at large.
Big Ten and SEC officials also reject the bill's approach to conference realignment.
As initially written, the legislation would have prohibited any league reporting at least $1 billion in revenue from expanding, a benchmark that encompasses only the SEC and Big Ten and a transparent shot at commissioners Greg Sankey and Tony Petitti. But according to Ross Dellenger of Yahoo Sports, that threshold was amended Thursday to $700 million, which already incorporates the ACC and soon will the Big 12.
Granted, conference realignments have done irreparable damage to college athletics, none more so than the Big Ten's 2024 pillaging of the Pac-12. And with the Power Four leagues already bloated beyond recognition, there should be little appetite for membership growth.
But would an expansion ban be legally defensible? Plus, how would Power Four aspirants such as Boise State, UConn, South Florida, Memphis and Tulane feel about permanent exile? Closer to home, what about Old Dominion, James Madison, Liberty and East Carolina, which harbor similar dreams?
With Congress' month-long summer recess and November's midterms on the horizon, time is short for the Senate, House and President Trump to discover common ground on the bill, urgency that Cruz understands.
"I know some say that because college athletics is so popular, Congress should not get involved," he said in a statement. "But high television ratings or rabid fan bases do not prove that the system is healthy. It just proves that the product is worth saving.
"Millions of Americans care deeply about college sports. They care about the athletes and the schools. They care about the rivalries and traditions that connect families, towns, campuses and states. This is precisely why Congress cannot simply hope that the system will correct itself."
The NCAA and Power Four have spent millions lobbying Congress for protection, but they should never forget Ronald Reagan's mantra:
"The nine most terrifying words in the English language are: ‘I'm from the government, and I'm here to help.' "
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This story was originally published June 21, 2026 at 5:43 AM.