Chasing Glory, Not a Payday

Why the Olympics remind me of what college sports once were

Why the Olympics Still Feel Like College Sports Used To

Today in gorgeous Milan, the Olympic flame is lit again. And for the first time in a long time, I felt that old pull — the kind I used to feel every fall Saturday and every March Madness, when college sports still meant something deeper than just greed and money. When it was beautiful, and amateurism meant something beyond simply whether an athlete was getting paid.

The Winter Olympics, especially, remain one of the last mainstream sports spaces where the point is still the pursuit, not the payday. Winning a medal is enough. It’s the goal.

Most of these athletes aren’t stars. Many aren’t even professionals in the way modern American sports define the word. They train before work, after class, between shifts, and on borrowed ice time. They fundraise. They scrape. They sacrifice. And then, once every four years, they get a stage big enough to justify all of it.

That, at its essence, is why I love the Olympics. It reminds me of competing in Little League or Pop Warner — when winning was everything and the ultimate high, while losing would eat at your soul.

The Olympics, for the most part, still deliver the experience I used to crave from college sports — minus the marching bands, student sections, and cheerleaders. Although, the Olympics bring their own unique international flair in their own right.

Because that’s exactly what college sports used to be about. Winning — and being a part of something bigger than yourself — was enough. In fact, it was everything. It was a place to grow as a young person in a uniquely special collegiate environment.

---

When the Goal Was the Climb, Not the Contract

There’s a lie people tell themselves about the “old days” of college sports — that it was pure, simple, or untouched by money. That’s not true. It was always a business.

But it wasn’t the point.

Championships were the point. Playing for your teammate and not letting your friend down was motivating. Being the best you could be — simply to prove something to yourself — was motivation enough.

For generations, college athletics revolved around something that’s now endangered: delayed gratification. Athletes weren’t chasing immediate financial reward. They were chasing mastery of a craft, the belonging that comes with a team, and the chance to test themselves against the best version of someone else who had taken the same hard road.

Much like Olympians today, college athletes trained knowing:

• Most would never go pro

• Fame was fleeting

• Recognition was regional

• And the payoff, if it came at all, came later

They played because the work mattered.

The Olympics mostly still operate on that wavelength, and that’s why I can’t wait to indulge in every second I can handle over the next two weeks.

---

Adversity Is the Feature, Not the Marketing Angle

Watch an Olympic broadcast closely and you’ll notice something missing: entitlement.

It’s about emotion, love of country, and going the extra mile to achieve the highest level of athletic accomplishment — recognized the world over.

You don’t hear athletes talking about opting out of bowl games or entering the transfer portal. Nobody is removing themselves from competition because of cramps, like we saw Kansas freshman Darryn Peterson do last week against BYU, much to the confusion of head coach Bill Self. Was he preserving himself for the NBA Draft? Probably. Did an agent or handler suggest it? I’d bet on it.

Instead, you hear about blown knees, lost funding, missed Olympic cycles, family sacrifices, and four-year waits that ended in one imperfect run.

The Olympic model doesn’t promise comfort. It promises clarity:

• Train relentlessly

• Earn your place

• Accept that failure is likely

• And understand that even success may not change your life financially

That’s not a bug — that’s the point.

Some things in life are bigger than money, yet people constantly lose sight of that. I can honestly tell you that money, to me, is just a means to an end. I want a nice life, sure — but money isn’t my motivation. Life is my motivation. Being kind to people. Trying my hardest as a dad, a husband, and a radio host. Caring about the art of living — the poetry of life’s joys that go far beyond a paycheck.

It mirrors what made college sports compelling for decades: the understanding that the grind itself was the reward.

---

The Glory Still Means Something Because It Costs Something

Gold medals don’t come with guaranteed futures. Many Olympians return home to the same jobs, the same financial uncertainty, and the same grind — just with a moment they can never lose.

College sports used to function the same way. Championships didn’t buy fancy cars or Gucci shoes. They bought pride. They bought bragging rights. They bought legacies that lasted far beyond any paycheck. They bought stories that mattered long after eligibility expired.

That’s why fans cared.

It wasn’t about watching people get rich. It was about watching people earn something irreversible. That’s what has drawn humans to competitive sport since the time of the gladiators. Money, as a result of popularity, was merely a byproduct — not the feature.

---

What We Lost — and What the Olympics Still Protect

Modern college sports haven’t lost competitiveness. The games rate higher than ever, and interest is at an all-time high. College sports are almost idiot-proof — and boy, have there been some apparent idiots, albeit greedy ones, trying to ruin everything off the field.

Alas, they can’t. The product is too good.

But when every decision is transactional, when loyalty is outdated, and when the climb is skipped in favor of shortcuts, something essential disappears. The sport becomes louder — but emptier.

The Olympics, for all their flaws, still protect the idea that work comes first, reward comes last, and sometimes the reward is simply being seen.

That’s why I’ll be watching Milan for the next two weeks, decked out in red, white, and blue. 🇺🇸
Yes, I’ll be there for the spectacle.
Yes, for the medal count. Go USA.

But also for the reminder that sports, at their best, are about chasing excellence when nobody owes you anything.

And for a few weeks every four years, that version of sports still exists.