Rodriguez Warns of Cultural Collapse in College Football: “We’re Not Building Teams, We’re Renting Them”
Standing on the sidelines of Jacksonville State’s practice field, Rich Rodriguez cuts a familiar figure—intense, focused, unapologetically old-school. But as college football morphs into a high-dollar, high-mobility industry, Rodriguez sounds more like a whistleblower than a coach. His message is clear: the game is changing, and not for the better.
“We’re not building teams anymore,” Rodriguez said in a recent sit-down at his alma mater. “We’re renting them—for one season, maybe even a few games. That’s not a foundation. That’s a revolving door.”
Rodriguez’s frustration centers on the convergence of two powerful forces: Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) deals, and the NCAA’s deregulation of the transfer portal. These twin accelerants have turned what was once a gradual developmental process into a high-speed transactional marketplace. Players can now leave without penalty and often do—especially when a better NIL offer is on the table.
“We used to recruit with a four-year plan,” Rodriguez explained. “You’d find a kid who fits your system, develop him, mold him into a leader. Now? You do that for one year, and then a Power Five school swoops in with a six-figure NIL package and he’s gone. Poached like a free agent.”
Though Rodriguez acknowledges the value in athletes being compensated, he argues that the absence of regulation has led to chaos. “I’m all for players making money,” he said. “But right now, there’s no accountability. No contracts. No oversight. It’s pay-to-play, plain and simple. And it’s killing the culture we worked decades to build.”
At Jacksonville State, where Rodriguez has quickly turned the Gamecocks into a competitive FBS program, maintaining continuity has become a daily struggle. Each offseason becomes a second recruiting cycle—this time to retain the very players his staff already invested in. “You’re not just recruiting high schoolers anymore,” he said. “You’re re-recruiting your own locker room.”
The emotional toll is mounting, too. Rodriguez described how veteran players, even captains, have been approached midseason by boosters or agents promising better deals elsewhere. “How do you coach through that?” he asked. “How do you build trust when the whole structure encourages disloyalty?”
Rodriguez’s concerns aren’t isolated. Coaches across the country, from Group of Five to Power Five programs, have voiced similar frustrations. But few have put it as bluntly. “This isn’t sustainable,” he warned. “We’re not raising men anymore. We’re assembling temporary rosters.”
Still, he’s not giving up. Rodriguez remains committed to building the best version of a team he can, even if that team may not last long. “You fight for culture anyway,” he said. “Even if the system doesn’t care, we do. Because that’s what football’s supposed to be—earned, not bought.”
In an era of rented rosters and million-dollar freshmen, Rodriguez’s voice may sound like a throwback. But it’s one rooted in a truth many in the game are starting to fear: college football is no longer a family—it’s a business, and loyalty is losing market value.
