Reading about these 2026 croots and their "best fits" just makes me shake my head. They aren't picking a school anymore, they're picking a brand deal. They're picking a temporary landing spot to maximize their personal valuation before they hit the portal again. I remember when a commitment meant something. When a kid like Herschel Walker chose Georgia, it was for the tradition, for the red and black, for the chance to be part of something bigger than himself for four years. Now, the first question out of every recruit's mouth is about the NIL collective's budget. It's a transactional relationship, and it's gutting the soul of the sport.
Look at what's happening out there. Oklahoma State bringing in fifty portal guys. Colorado with forty-three. It's a mercenary free-for-all. These aren't football teams being built through development and cohesion, they're fantasy rosters being assembled with the highest bidder's cash. What happened to growing with your class? What happened to the juniors and seniors who knew the system inside and out, who bled for the program, who would lay it all on the line in the fourth quarter against Auburn or Florida because they hated those colors? That stuff mattered. It built the foundation of every great Georgia team I've ever watched, from the '80 squads to the '21 and '22 champions. Those teams had a core that was forged over years.
This new model creates a culture of renters, not owners. A kid has a bad spring practice, he hears a whisper from another school's collective, and he's gone. There's no loyalty, no adversity, no fighting for your spot. It's just shopping. And don't tell me it's good for the players. Sure, they get some cash now, but they're missing the entier point of what college football was supposed to teach you about brotherhood, perseverance, and team. The money will be gone in a flash, but the lessons from battling through a tough season with your brothers last a lifetime. I saw more genuine emotion from the 1997 team that fought to a 10-2 record than I do from these modern squads where half the roster are strangers every August.
We're lucky at Georgia that our foundation is still strong, that we can still recruit the high school kids who want to be Bulldogs. But even we have to play this NIL game to keep up, and it sickens me. It's a corrosive force. The sport I fell in love with, the one where you knew every player's name and story by their junior year, is fading away. Now it's just a minor league with a constant auction. They've taken the heart out of it and replaced it with a price tag.
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