College sports isn't just the SEC. It’s not all $100 million TV deals and sold-out stadiums in Tuscaloosa. Honestly, if you look at a large regional collegiate program—the kind that dominates a specific geographic area but doesn't necessarily headline ESPN every Saturday—you see a much more complex, and frankly, more interesting struggle for survival. These schools are the backbone of the NCAA, yet they’re currently caught in a massive vice grip between rising costs and a rapidly shifting legal landscape.
It's a weird time to be a mid-major.
Take a school like San Diego State or maybe the University of Memphis. These are programs that operate at a high level. They win games. They produce NFL talent. But they aren't "Power 4" (formerly Power 5 before the Pac-12 implosion). For a large regional collegiate athletic department, the mission is fundamentally different than it is for a brand like Ohio State. They have to be scrappy. They have to prove their worth every single season just to keep their seat at the table, all while navigating the chaotic waters of NIL (Name, Image, and Likeness) and the transfer portal.
The Revenue Gap Nobody Likes to Talk About
The math is brutal. It just is. While the Big Ten and SEC are signing media rights deals worth billions, schools in the Mountain West, AAC, or Sun Belt are fighting for scraps. We're talking about a difference of $50 million or more per year in television revenue alone. That is a massive hurdle.
How does a large regional collegiate program keep up? They don't do it through TV money. They do it through "guarantee games"—those "buy games" where they travel to a powerhouse school to get beat up for a $1.5 million paycheck—and through aggressive local fundraising. It’s a localized economy. If you’re a donor at a regional school, your $10,000 matters way more than it does at a school with a billion-dollar endowment.
But here’s the kicker: the fans expect the same level of production. They want the flashy uniforms. They want the renovated stadium. They want the winning season.
There's a specific kind of pressure that comes with being the "big fish" in a smaller pond. If you’re a large regional collegiate power, you have to win. Losing to a smaller school in your own backyard is a recruiting nightmare. It kills the momentum. It makes the donors close their wallets. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder at the up-and-comers while trying to punch upward at the giants.
The NIL Wild West in Mid-Major Markets
Everyone thinks NIL is just about star quarterbacks getting Lamborghini deals. It’s not. In the world of a large regional collegiate department, NIL is often about survival. It's about keeping your best players from getting "poached" by the big schools.
🔗 Read more: Inter Miami vs Toronto: What Really Happened in Their Recent Clashes
Look at what happened with high-profile transfers in the last two years. A kid has a breakout season at a regional school, and by Monday morning, he has three offers from P4 schools with six-figure NIL packages. It’s basically free agency without a salary cap or a contract.
Regional schools have had to get creative. They don't have the "old money" boosters that some blue-bloods do. Instead, they’re leaning on local businesses. The local car dealership, the regional pizza chain, the town’s biggest law firm—these are the entities funding the NIL collectives at these schools. It's a hyper-local ecosystem.
- Collectives are often run by alumni who just want to see the basketball team make the Sweet 16 again.
- The deals are smaller, usually involving social media posts or appearances at local events.
- Retention is the primary goal, not just recruitment.
Some experts, like sports economist Andrew Zimbalist, have pointed out that this system is inherently unstable for schools without massive TV revenue. If a regional school spends all its booster money on NIL, what happens to the new weight room? What happens to the women's soccer team's travel budget? It's a zero-sum game for many of these institutions.
Why Branding is the Only Real Currency Left
If you can't outspend them, you have to outbrand them. This is where the large regional collegiate programs actually have a fighting chance. They have an identity.
Think about the "Coastal Carolina" effect. They leaned into the teal turf. They leaned into the "Chants" moniker. They built a brand that felt different from the stiff, traditional powers. For a regional school, your brand is your lifeline to the community. You aren't just a university; you're the representative of a whole region that feels overlooked by national media.
That chip on the shoulder? It’s real. It’s a marketing tool.
Successful regional programs focus on "town and gown" relations. They make sure the city feels ownership of the team. When the stadium is packed with locals who actually have a connection to the school, the home-field advantage becomes a tangible asset that can occasionally bridge the talent gap on the field.
💡 You might also like: Matthew Berry Positional Rankings: Why They Still Run the Fantasy Industry
The Hidden Cost of Realignment
We have to talk about the travel. It’s getting ridiculous. As conferences expand to chase TV dollars, the regionality of "regional" sports is dying.
When a large regional collegiate program joins a conference that stretches across three time zones, the "Olympic sports" suffer the most. We’re talking about volleyball players and track athletes flying across the country for a Tuesday night game. It’s a massive drain on resources. It’s also a massive drain on the students.
The mental health toll is a growing concern among athletic directors. How do you balance a chemistry degree with a travel schedule that looks like a pro golfer's? The big schools can afford private charters. The regional schools? They’re often stuck on commercial flights or long bus rides.
The Future: Consolidation or Chaos?
There is a lot of talk about a "Super League" in college football. If that happens, where does that leave the large regional collegiate programs?
There are two schools of thought here. One is that they’ll be relegated to a "second tier" of college athletics, similar to the relationship between the Premier League and the Championship in English soccer. The other is that they will become the last bastions of "real" college sports—where the traditions still matter and the players aren't just mercenaries.
Honestly, the second option feels like wishful thinking, but it’s what keeps the fans coming back.
The reality is likely somewhere in the middle. We will probably see a massive consolidation of resources, where about 40–50 schools operate at a professional level, and everyone else—including many large regional collegiate programs—has to find a more sustainable, "low-cost" model.
📖 Related: What Time Did the Cubs Game End Today? The Truth About the Off-Season
This isn't necessarily a bad thing. It might lead to more localized schedules, lower ticket prices, and a return to the rivalries that made college sports great in the first place. But the transition? It’s going to be messy.
Survival Steps for Regional Programs
Success in this new era isn't just about winning games; it's about business agility. If a program wants to remain relevant, it has to pivot away from the old way of doing things.
Hyper-Local NIL Integration. Stop trying to compete with Texas or Oregon for national brands. Connect athletes with the local businesses that actually care about the community. A $5,000 deal with a local plumbing company is better than no deal at all.
Facility Efficiency. Stop building $100 million "palaces" that sit empty 350 days a year. Regional schools need multi-use facilities that generate revenue through concerts, community events, and youth sports tournaments.
Direct-to-Fan Content. Since the big TV networks might ignore you, you have to own your media. High-quality YouTube documentaries, behind-the-scenes social content, and local streaming deals are the only way to keep the fanbase engaged without a primetime ESPN slot.
The "Transfer Portal" Strategy. Accept that you might be a "developmental" program for some players. Use that as a recruiting tool. "Come here, get playing time, get coached up, and if you're good enough to go to the NFL or a P4, we’ll help you get there." It sounds counterintuitive, but honesty wins in the current recruiting market.
The era of the "mid-major" as we knew it is over. The large regional collegiate athletic department is now a boutique sports franchise. It has to be smarter, faster, and more connected to its roots than ever before. It’s a high-wire act, and there’s no safety net. But for the schools that get it right, the reward is a loyal, localized fanbase that will follow them through whatever version of the NCAA comes next.