When Executive Orders Meet Title IX Realities

OPENING STATEMENTS

There’s been no shortage of commentary on President Trump’s April 3 Executive Order, “Urgent National Action to Save College Sports.” But I wanted to take a look at it through one specific lens, one that still looms largely, even if in the background, of the changing landscape in college sports: Title IX.

The order is framed as a response to a system that some believe is strained by NIL deals, constant transfers, and revenue-sharing pressures that administrators say threaten women’s and Olympic sports. For the sake of this, we’re going to put aside the reasons why those aren’t the threats that some contend. The order bars the use of federal funds for NIL payments, revenue-sharing, and certain coach compensation, and ties eligibility for some federal grants and contracts to compliance with “lawful, applicable” rules from an interstate governing body like the NCAA. It also calls for preserving or expanding opportunities in women’s and Olympic sports and encourages sex-disaggregated reporting of athletics spending and athlete payments.

On paper, and like so many other arguments, that sounds protective. The order highlights the financial arms race in football and men’s basketball and the risk that athletic deficits spill into academic budgets. It pushes Congress to act and urges the NCAA to adopt rules by August 1 on eligibility, transfers, revenue-sharing, and NIL abuses, with some attention to women’s sports.

But the baseline is non-negotiable: this EO cannot, should not, and does not override Title IX. Executive orders do not repeal statutes. For any institution receiving federal funds, Title IX applies across the entire institution, not just specific programs or funding streams. Schools cannot avoid compliance by claiming payments come from private sources, NIL collectives, or new compensation structures.

The real issue, in my mind, is what the order leaves unsaid. It treats revenue-sharing and similar payments as separate from traditional scholarships and never clearly states that they count as “athletic financial assistance” under Title IX. That silence invites aggressive interpretation. Schools may argue that because these payments are not labeled scholarships, they fall outside proportionality requirements for athletic aid. That conflicts with how Title IX operates, but the lack of clarity increases the likelihood of litigation. And in some ways, you could argue that this order is written to provide such cover.

We have seen similar moves before. When federal guidance on Title IX and athlete pay was rescinded in 2025, some treated it as a signal that NIL and related benefits were market issues, detached from gender equity. Meanwhile, the House v. NCAA settlement and the start of revenue-sharing have already raised concerns about whether female athletes will receive equitable shares. This EO draws a line between federal and non-federal funds and elevates NCAA rulemaking, but never states the key principle: Title IX follows the institution, not the label on the payment. Period. Stop.

For student-athletes, especially women, that omission matters. If schools direct millions in revenue-sharing to football and men’s basketball while limiting women’s scholarships and support, Title IX protections weaken in practice. If NIL structures or third-party entities are used to funnel school-directed benefits that disproportionately favor men, inequities will persist with fewer clear accountability mechanisms.

The order also recommends consulting student-athletes in NCAA rulemaking but does not require meaningful participation. If you’ve read anything I’ve written previously, you know my position here. That this reflects a broader pattern: decision-making bodies shaping college sports policy while excluding the athletes most affected. And then placing the blame for instability on them. Claims of protecting athletes ring hollow without their inclusion.

So where does this leave us? The clearest position is that all institution-directed financial benefits tied to intercollegiate athletics - such as scholarships, revenue-sharing, school-facilitated NIL payments, medical care, and academic incentives - remain subject to Title IX, regardless of label or funding source. Federal agencies, especially the Department of Education, however weakened it is, should state that explicitly in guidance and enforcement. Any NCAA rules developed under this EO must reflect that “lawful” cannot mean inequitable.

Until Congress acts, this Executive Order is more signal than solution. It identifies real pressures but leaves room for institutions to test how far they can go in reclassifying payments to avoid equity obligations. The priority remains clear: ensure Title IX protections follow the money, wherever it flows, and prevent the pay era in college sports from becoming another avenue for gender inequity.

EXHIBIT A

A new white paper, “Win Some (Games), Lose Some (Money) — College Sports 2026,” is a substantial read, but worth your time if you care about where college athletics is headed and what tradeoffs schools may face next. It digs into why many athletic departments feel compelled to pour escalating dollars into sports just to keep up. It examines how new revenue-sharing costs, private capital, and booster-driven NIL spending are reshaping budgets and intensifying pressure on non‑revenue sports. It squarely addresses the role of federal policymakers, situating its recommendations alongside recent White House actions and congressional scrutiny of athletic spending. It’s pretty granular, but a thought‑provoking roadmap of the choices ahead.

EXHIBIT B

The memo that the College Sports Commission released this week seems to concede one thing: the NIL clearinghouse cannot keep up with the current volume and complexity of deals tied to the portal. The commission is now raising the automatic-review threshold from $600 to $2,500 for third‑party NIL agreements, so long as an athlete’s total yearly earnings stay under $15,000. That change carves out a large swath of small and mid‑tier deals from range‑of‑compensation scrutiny, a shift that looks less like targeted risk management and more like triage from an overwhelmed regulator that underestimated how many school‑driven and booster‑driven deals would flood NIL Go once the portal windows opened. It also underscores a core legitimacy problem: athletes were promised a transparent market for their name, image, and likeness, and instead have landed in a system where the watchdog is already loosening its own rules just to stay afloat.

ON THE DOCKET

I’ll be watching closely next week as Division I leaders take up an age‑based eligibility proposal that, on its face, makes a lot of sense. The concept would give athletes five full years of eligibility starting from their 19th birthday or high school graduation, whichever comes first, and would largely eliminate traditional redshirts and most waivers, with narrow carve‑outs only for maternity leave, military service, and religious missions. The push is driven by volume and risk: last academic year, the NCAA processed 1,450 extended‑eligibility waiver requests, granted about two‑thirds, and still saw more than 70 lawsuits from roughly 500 denials. If the Cabinet is serious about simplifying a system that is breaking everyone, it should move quickly enough for this to be in place before the next academic year begins.

FOOTNOTES

"I'll believe all this s*** when I see it. It's just paper. Show me an actual law. The only rules I know right now are there are no rules."

• Anonymous Big Ten GM, responding to the president’s executive order on college athletics