The term dead money gets talked about a lot around college sports, especially right now. Dead money is dollars paid out to coaches for essentially not coaching anymore. This happens when a coach gets fired, but contractually their university has to pay out most or all of their contract. It’s like severance on steroids. A friend of mine refers to this as living the ultimate dream – getting paid millions to do absolutely nothing. Obviously, this happens when a team performs worse than hoped, especially compared to the lofty ambitions of fans and prominent boosters, who donate lots of money in the name of victory. It’s also almost exclusively in football and men’s basketball, where teams stand to generate big dollars and thus compete for big-name coaches, not only with each other, but also the pros. So to lure those top prospects to your campus, contracts are now laden with buy out clauses, making it easy for a coach to say yes to moving from wherever they are to wherever they are most wanted.
This is the story of Jimbo Fisher. Fisher was until very recently the head football coach at Texas A&M, one of the wealthiest and most demanding athletic programs in the country. He started in 2018 after seven years at Florida State, where he led the Seminoles to a national title, which is catnip to any big-time football program looking for a new leader. Which is why A&M signed him to a 10-year, $75 million contract, hoping he could recreate that magic in College Station. And while it hasn’t been awful – he’s 45-21 and 27-21 in SEC games – it’s not up to their lofty anticipations, and going in the wrong direction. So, with the team 6-4 and games still to play, Texas A&M relieved Jimbo Fisher of his services and the final years of his contract. And – and this is the part that gets everyone upset – will write him a check for $76 million. To do nothing.
There are a bunch of caveats here, although none of them change the basic calculus. First, if Fisher does get another coaching job, some – not all, but some of that money will be forgotten. Which doesn’t give Jimbo Fisher a whole lot of incentive to start sending out resumes. Second, while Fisher’s buyout may be the largest and some might suggest the most grotesque in history, it is only part of the $146 million of coaching buyout dollars since 2022. Which builds on the over half billion dollars of buyouts in the 11 years prior. So while Jimbo Fisher may have hit the biggest lottery, there’s no shortage of winners here. Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the fact that a public university will pay 76 million to a guy to not work. Which, as you can read in lurid detail, will pay for a lot of labs, scholarships, and professors.
That may or may not be the point. As you will also read, this money won’t come from the general operational fund of Texas A&M. A big chunk will come from booster donations, and the rest will come annually from the athletics department, which generates nearly $200 million a year. So it won’t break the Aggies nor take textbooks out of anyone’s hands. Whether a public university should be allowed to operate in that manner is another question, one that gets more to the heart and soul of the state of American higher education. But unless rules prohibit it, I wouldn’t expect that to change.
And perhaps that is the point. I see this case as far less offensive and far more illustrative. Whether Jimbo Fisher gets an extra 76 million from rich Texans and television revenue is yet another thing I won’t lose a lot of sleep over. Given the range of unfairness and injustice in this world, it seems somewhat insignificant. But I do think this, as much as anything, shows just how much more closely aligned Texas A&M football is with the NFL than anything approaching amateur sports. Which is why I don’t think the answer is to figure out how to pay Jimbo Fisher less. At this point, it’s probably a lot smarter to figure out how to simply pay the players more. If Texas A&M can find that kind of money for a guy to not coach, I imagine it’s time to find some money to pay people who actually do play.
In other words, add some live money to the dead money going out the door. That, unlike Jimbo Fisher, may actually add up to more wins.
Keith Strudler is the director of the School of Communication and Media at Montclair State University. You can follow him at @KeithStrudler
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