The Rules of a Dream

Does a dream exist to break the confines of one’s imagination or to find a place of solace in reality?

Imagine a cacophony of noise screaming your name; so close to idolatry that it’s almost sinful - almost. Your name is adorned upon the backs of people who surround you on your daily commute, where whispers and shaken greetings aren’t amiss. Still, you’re an amateur, and that commute has you headed to Economics 101, where you’re behind on the reading and yet to find a regular seat in class among friends.

The dreamland of a college athlete.

“I do notice that people shy away from speaking to me because they may be intimidated or think I fall under the arrogant student-athlete,” Maria Gakdeng said. In her final season of play as a collegiate women’s basketball player, Gakdeng understands the trope. It makes sense; you’re the amalgamation of their childhood dreams yet forced into group work with them.

So how did we get here? Well, it typically starts with a letter in the mail, then another, and soon a barrage of texts, calls and messages of admiration as coaches of some of the most prestigious universities across America recruit you and your talent to take their program to the next level.

Until 2021, collegiate sports were simple. You trade your talents for a full-ride scholarship to institutions like Stanford that could set you back £60,000 a year.

An equal exchange, so to say, amateurs against amateurs, yet somehow college sports torpedoed its way into a multi-billionaire pound industry.

The 190,000 NCAA (National Collegiate Athletic Association) athletes appealed to something distinctive in an American audience – a chord that commercialised leagues like the NBA and NFL couldn’t strike due to their proliferation in major cities: tribalism.

Alumni of the universities, as well as the residents who were born and bred around the mostly rural campuses, provided the perfect blue ocean market for a loyal fanbase whose fandom traverses generations.

Perception of student-athletes changed dramatically in 2021, where the Supreme Court introduced NIL (Name, Image and Likeness), allowing athletes to make money through endorsements and university collective funds.

What predated was a world where student-athletes were not allowed to profit at all from their talent and profile though schools, and media made billions off them.

“Athletes deserve to be compensated; they help these schools build brands and make money. Of course, we deserve to be rewarded,” said Kai Tamashiro, a sophomore football player at Liberty University.

He began his college career after the Supreme Court’s decision and has felt the full force of this nascent market.

What was long overdue for athletes has now begun to ignite a discussion around athletes and the level of scrutiny they now deserve. They are still amateurs, but the introduction of financial compensation for their talents has altered the rules for the dream of playing a college sport, shifting the dynamics of being a student before an athlete.

Industry typically outpaces law (Dearinger, 2024), and the NCAA has clamoured to close Pandora’s box, offering $2.8 billion to former athletes, settling past grievances over pay.

So, what purpose does this dream have?

Is it principles set in allowing a select few to leverage their talents for four years of educational gain, or does the confines of the dream eventually expand to the professional level?

A monolith bullied over Bella Sember as a kid, its brick crevices read like lines of authority, rules Sember craved to break.

“100 shots on my left, 100 shots on my right every single day before school starts,” Sember said faintly as though the early morning soccer training began to ruminate in her lungs again.

“It paid off though,” the UNC Women’s Soccer midfielder added.

Sember ended her senior season with the Tar Heels as captain and national champion at the winningest program in the country, a breeding ground for well-known English internationals such as Lucy Bronze and Alessia Russo.

“To me, I couldn’t believe I made it to UNC, but once you settle in and realise that the four years of eligibility is coming to an end, you think to what’s after, what’s next.”

What’s the next dream?

Sember is now preparing to play her debut season in professional soccer/football at Swedish club KIF Örebro in the country’s highest division. To 1% of student-athletes, the collegiate level is the actualization of that childhood dream; to 0.001%, like Sember, college sports is simply a base-camp to a higher apex.

Does a dream deserve to die now that you ticked it off, or is it just handed over to screaming fans who now only see you as the heroine of their own journey?

Gakdeng is used to the crowds; they’ve become synonymous with her gamedays in the same arena the fabled Michael Jordan played. Cut-outs of her face and jerseys of her name are usual ambience to gamedays and none more so than the centrepiece tournament of it all, March Madness. Tens of millions tune in to watch amateurs duel out in single-elimination games.

After her college’s elimination from the tournament, Gakdeng would still watch ESPN’s coverage, where her face continues to adorn the promotional trailers played during halftime.

“You embrace it all when it is positive, the adulation and coverage,” she said. “But knowing the same people tear you down if things aren’t going your way shows that they only see you as a player and not a person as well.”

Gakdeng aims to end her final collegiate season on a high in repayment to the Tar Heels, coaches and teammates that made it all possible.

While she’s a heroine to some and a villain to rival schools, Gakdeng is just another student chasing her dreams.