Fair Pay to Play Act is a first step toward reforming a system that exploits student-athletes

When California state Senate Bill 206 was introduced in February, I felt a jolt of excitement for the future of student athletes – and a sense of relief that they might be spared the same hardships and anxieties I experienced as a scholarship athlete more than 15 years ago.

The bill, also known as the Fair Pay to Play Act, was signed into law on September 30. Among other things, it allows college athletes in California to earn money based on the usage of their name, image and likeness, and to sign endorsement deals and licensing contracts. 

The law signifies the first major blow to a system that exploits young talent, preys on ill-informed families similar to my own and exists by enriching the powerful at the expense of the voiceless. 

I was 18 years old when the first college coaches began courting me. They came to my grandparents’ over-crowded house in a small town in Florida, where I lived with my brother and four cousins.

My mother worked a lot. My dad wasn’t around. My grandparents bore the bulk of the responsibility of raising the children in our family. I was one of the older grandchildren, so I had adult responsibilities — preparing meals for the family and getting my younger cousins ready for school. 

This is my story, but it’s not unique. It’s shared by many student-athletes, especially those who do not come from affluent backgrounds. 

There I was, a young and naive kid, actually believing the words of the recruiters sitting in our living room. I envisioned a better life as a scholarship athlete, so I left home for the first time and moved 900 miles north up I-95 to start my collegiate career at the University of Maryland.

I thought being on a college campus would allow me to escape the hardships of living “paycheck to paycheck” that I’d faced at home. But in fact, not much changed. Yes, I experienced the excitement of being a Division 1 athlete along with the notoriety of being a great player on a mediocre team. But behind the success and popularity was a masked reality — times were tough. And not just for me, but for many other scholarship athletes too. 

I was told that playing college football would change the trajectory of my life and that of my family, and it did — eventually. But of many thousands of college athletes, I am one of the lucky few who made it to the professional level and enjoyed a lengthy and lucrative career.

I thought that change they spoke of would come sooner, specifically while I was in college. I received a good education. Meals were provided on campus. I did get some assistance from a federal Pell grant. But those were still challenging times. Meals were hard to come by on weekends, holidays and other breaks away from campus. I would sometimes borrow money from my roommate to purchase basic necessities like toothpaste or deodorant, and to wash clothes. My family worked long hours just to make ends meet, so there was no disposable income left to afford them the ability to come visit me, or even attend many games.

On the field, I was good — really good. The university began to sell my jerseys, something I had never imagined possible. There were billboards sprinkled around campus with a photo of me promoting Maryland football. The notoriety felt good, but it wasn’t quite enough to make me numb to the realities of my family’s and my financial hardships. I struggled with the fact that while I was doing so well in the one thing that was supposed to make my life better, I was still struggling. 

Some argue that scholarship student-athletes at universities should be content to have their tuition, books and room and board paid for. And I agree that it is a privilege and a blessing to have the opportunity to receive a college education free of charge. I’m thankful for that.

But it’s more complicated than that. Think about it this way: In just about every other industry and profession, people are compensated for their work and talents, regardless of their age. Nowadays, even little kids can earn income from their YouTube channels. But student-athletes aren’t able to accept anything, not even a free meal. 

Meanwhile, the athletic programs these students participate in have been generating millions of dollars for universities despite their nonprofit status. Universities have been able to generate revenue from sold-out stadiums and arenas. But the student-athletes who fans come to see aren’t seeing any of that.

Universities use student-athletes’ likenesses in advertising and make money on the sales of jerseys with their names. But yet, the student-athletes had no right to any of it. In fact, those student-athletes would be punished and run the risk of losing their scholarship if they accepted anything. 

College head coaches make millions of dollars in salary, then collect additional income for appearing on TV and radio shows, and endorsement deals from car and apparel brands. Meanwhile, the families of many student-athletes on their rosters can’t afford to come see them play. It’s hard to justify. As a collegiate athlete, I felt there was something fundamentally wrong, but I could do nothing about it. 

I was one of the lucky ones who was able to go on and play at the professional level and profit off of my talent. But what about the men and women who don’t? What about the student-athletes who didn’t make it to the professional level but were still on the roster fighting alongside their teammates while the entire university ecosystem profited off of their talent? What about the collegiate athletes who suffer career-ending injuries? 

Other states should follow California’s lead and enact similar laws so that all student-athletes can finally enjoy the fruit of their labor. Additional reforms must also be considered to a system that feeds on the aspirations of young people and profits off of their free labor. The Fair Pay to Play Act is just the first step. 

D’Qwell Jackson played 11 seasons in the National Football League for the Cleveland Browns and Indianapolis Colts.