I was remembering when I was a boy and would ride my bike to Beaver Stadium on a fall Saturday to catch a game, with nothing on me—no money, no ticket, and no food. I’d grab a sack from the CDT, who hired paperboys to hawk their PSU pregame newspapers, and sell them to tailgaters. They bought my papers and kept me fed—and sometimes offered beer as a joke (sort of
). As game time approached, I’d take my profits, find an old man whose wife couldn’t make it and buy a ticket to the game. Sometimes he’d give it to me for free. I never missed a game.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the trend of college football stadiums getting smaller while getting more expensive, and I think it’s a pretty good reflection of what’s happening in the broader economy.
Florida State took Doak Campbell from nearly 80,000 seats to around 67,000, replacing seats with clubs and premium areas. Northwestern went from a 47,000-seat stadium to a 35,000-seat, $870 million stadium built around the premium experience. PSU is spending hundreds of millions renovating Beaver Stadium, with a huge emphasis on clubs, suites and luxury seating—though at least for us, I’m glad they found a way to preserve capacity.
The people running these programs will tell us it’s just economics. Which is true. It’s just a particularly depressing kind of economics.
Why sell 10,000 $75 tickets when you can replace some of them with seats that generate several times that amount? Why try to make college football affordable for ordinary families when you can squeeze more money out of the people who have plenty of it?
This is the K-shaped economy in college football. People at the top keep getting richer, and instead of fixing the imbalance, most billionaires and institutions are embracing it.
The irony is that the wealthy customers they’re chasing aren’t actually what made college football special. The massive crowds did. The 100,000 people packed into a stadium. The students, families, alumni and regular fans all sitting together. The amateur student athlete. The feeling that this was something you could actually be part of.
A luxury suite doesn’t create that atmosphere. The crowds of people in the seats do.
I’m sure all of this is obvious, but I think we’ve crossed a very stark line in the past year or two. As with many things in this country, the middle and lower class no longer matter.
There’s not enough wealth among the bottom 90% for billionaires and institutions to even create a product meant for this group, let alone market and cater to it. This country has given up on the bottom 90% and it shows in places like college football.
And I think that’s the part that pisses me off.
Rather than asking how we preserve the thing that made college football great, we’re asking how much more money can be made from the wealthiest fans. Forget everyone else, they’re not worth it.
It’s a race at the top that ultimately hollows out the bottom. But the bottom is massive.
And that’s why I think college football is eating itself.
You can make more money in the short term by turning stadiums into luxury experiences. But if you keep pushing ordinary fans out, eventually you lose the next generation of fans, the traditions, the atmosphere and the sense that this belongs to everyone.
The people making these decisions will probably be fine. They can afford the suites.
I’m more worried about the kid who wants to ride his bike the game and get in for cheap after a few hours of work because his family can’t justify spending $500+ just to get through the gate.
That’s the kid who becomes a lifelong fan—or doesn’t. And we’re betting the future of the sport that he’ll somehow care anyway.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the trend of college football stadiums getting smaller while getting more expensive, and I think it’s a pretty good reflection of what’s happening in the broader economy.
Florida State took Doak Campbell from nearly 80,000 seats to around 67,000, replacing seats with clubs and premium areas. Northwestern went from a 47,000-seat stadium to a 35,000-seat, $870 million stadium built around the premium experience. PSU is spending hundreds of millions renovating Beaver Stadium, with a huge emphasis on clubs, suites and luxury seating—though at least for us, I’m glad they found a way to preserve capacity.
The people running these programs will tell us it’s just economics. Which is true. It’s just a particularly depressing kind of economics.
Why sell 10,000 $75 tickets when you can replace some of them with seats that generate several times that amount? Why try to make college football affordable for ordinary families when you can squeeze more money out of the people who have plenty of it?
This is the K-shaped economy in college football. People at the top keep getting richer, and instead of fixing the imbalance, most billionaires and institutions are embracing it.
The irony is that the wealthy customers they’re chasing aren’t actually what made college football special. The massive crowds did. The 100,000 people packed into a stadium. The students, families, alumni and regular fans all sitting together. The amateur student athlete. The feeling that this was something you could actually be part of.
A luxury suite doesn’t create that atmosphere. The crowds of people in the seats do.
I’m sure all of this is obvious, but I think we’ve crossed a very stark line in the past year or two. As with many things in this country, the middle and lower class no longer matter.
There’s not enough wealth among the bottom 90% for billionaires and institutions to even create a product meant for this group, let alone market and cater to it. This country has given up on the bottom 90% and it shows in places like college football.
And I think that’s the part that pisses me off.
Rather than asking how we preserve the thing that made college football great, we’re asking how much more money can be made from the wealthiest fans. Forget everyone else, they’re not worth it.
It’s a race at the top that ultimately hollows out the bottom. But the bottom is massive.
And that’s why I think college football is eating itself.
You can make more money in the short term by turning stadiums into luxury experiences. But if you keep pushing ordinary fans out, eventually you lose the next generation of fans, the traditions, the atmosphere and the sense that this belongs to everyone.
The people making these decisions will probably be fine. They can afford the suites.
I’m more worried about the kid who wants to ride his bike the game and get in for cheap after a few hours of work because his family can’t justify spending $500+ just to get through the gate.
That’s the kid who becomes a lifelong fan—or doesn’t. And we’re betting the future of the sport that he’ll somehow care anyway.
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