Three Key Takeaways
- The money is the point. For many HBCUs, games against Power 4 opponents are revenue-generating opportunities, not attempts to create competitive matchups.
- The criticism often ignores the funding gap. HBCUs generally lack the massive donor networks, athletic revenues and fundraising infrastructure that allow Power 4 programs to operate with far greater financial flexibility.
- If fans want fewer blowouts, they have to help change the economics. Buying a homecoming ticket is not enough. Sustained alumni giving is essential if HBCUs are going to reduce their dependence on guarantee games and gain more control over their schedules.
Every year, almost as predictable as the college football calendar itself, an HBCU takes the field against a Power 4 opponent, absorbs a lopsided loss and ignites the same debate.
Why did they schedule the game?
Why would an HBCU agree to be embarrassed on national television?
And, from the other side, why should a Power 4 program bother playing an HBCU at all?
After FAMU’s latest loss to Miami, the reactions followed a familiar script.
“There is no way to dress this one up,” one social media poster wrote. “FAMU was overwhelmed in every phase. The loss must be studied honestly, corrected quickly and never wasted. The standard still matters—especially after a night like this.”
Another took a less dramatic view.
“Miami is a beast,” the poster wrote. “They are going to put up big numbers against a lot of teams this year. Nothing really to see here.”
Both reactions can be true.
FAMU could have played poorly. Miami can be significantly better. And the game can still have been an entirely rational financial decision for FAMU.
That last point is often missing from the annual debate.
The money is often the point.
Power 4 programs routinely pay smaller programs to come to their stadiums because the arrangement benefits both sides. The larger school gets a home game, a relatively inexpensive opponent and another opportunity to fill its schedule. The HBCU gets a guaranteed payday that can represent a meaningful infusion of cash into an athletic department operating with far fewer resources. In FAMU's case, the Miami game check represented about 6% of this year's athletic budget.
It is easy to criticize the arrangement from the stands.
It is considerably harder to replace the revenue.
That distinction was captured bluntly by rapper Plies, who pushed back against those mocking the score on social media.
“Laughing at FAMU getting beat 77-0 in the 3rd says a lot about the person,” he wrote. “Now post the NIL money for both teams!”
He went on to point to the financial disparity behind the matchup, writing that FAMU “doesn’t have a $6.5 million QB” and “doesn’t have a million dollar anything,” while acknowledging that Miami is “a really good team.”
His larger point was simple: the scoreboard cannot be separated from the resources behind the teams.
That is where some of the annual outrage over these games becomes disconnected from the economic reality of HBCU athletics.
I'm sure, Selvin Cobb, Zachary Ansley, and Ronald Joe could write a book about the reasons alumni give for not contributing to the FAMU Boosters.
For too many, buying a ticket to homecoming is considered the beginning and end of their financial obligation to the university.
But college athletics does not operate on nostalgia.
It operates on money.
Many HBCUs simply do not have that luxury.
They may have extraordinarily loyal alumni. They may have passionate fan bases. They may have traditions that stretch back generations.
What they often lack are the layers of major donors capable of routinely giving six-, seven- or eight-figure gifts to athletics.
They often lack fundraising operations capable of generating sustained contributions from hundreds or thousands of donors.
And they frequently lack the enormous television and conference revenues that have transformed the economics of college sports.
Sometimes that means playing Miami.
Or Florida State.
Or Alabama.
Or Georgia.
Or another program whose roster, facilities, resources and athletic budget make the competitive disparity obvious before the opening kickoff.
The larger schools are not playing these games out of charity.
They are making an economic calculation, too. Last night, more than 63,618 people filed into to Hard Rock Stadium last night to see Miami and the FAMU Marching 100 (i'm just being honest), at an average ticket cost of $60 per person.
The difference is that their financial circumstances give them considerably more room to absorb a bad outcome.
For an HBCU, the guaranteed payment can help fund scholarships, coaches, staffing, travel, equipment and other expenses across an athletic department that must stretch every dollar.
The uncomfortable truth is that if HBCU fans want fewer games against overwhelmingly better-funded opponents, they must help create the financial conditions that make those games less necessary.
That means buying more than a homecoming ticket.
It means joining booster organizations.
It means giving annually — even when the team is struggling.
It means building a culture in which alumni understand that supporting athletics is not simply about celebrating victories. It is about helping create the resources necessary to compete.
None of this excuses getting blown out.
A bad performance should be analyzed honestly. Coaches should be held accountable. Players should be developed. Programs should improve.
But there is a difference between demanding accountability and pretending that an HBCU can simply stop playing money games without addressing what replaces the money.
That is the conversation often missing after the final score.
It is whether HBCU athletic programs can eventually build enough independent revenue that they have greater control over when, where and against whom they play.
Until then, the beatdowns will remain part of the college football landscape.
And so will the outrage that follows them.
The scoreboard tells us who won the game.
It does not tell us why the game was played in the first place.