They say timing is everything, and if you ask some old-school college football legends, the NIL clock started just a few years too late. A generation of players who helped build the billion-dollar beast that college football is today never saw a dime. No brand deals, no bag man, no six-figure appearances—just blood, sweat, and an NFL dream. But one Bama-bred beast, who once reigned in the trenches, is raising his eyebrows at the whole system. Let’s just say, he’s not here for the whole “chase the bag” culture shift.

That voice? It belongs to Daron Payne, the 6’3”, 320-pound sledgehammer who anchored Alabama’s front line from 2015 to 2017. A two-time national champion under Nick Saban, Payne wasn’t just a cog in the machine—he was the engine. But when Payne, now a Washington Commanders defensive tackle, hosted his youth football camp at Shades Valley High School, NIL came up—and let’s just say, he didn’t sugarcoat it: “When I played, it was kinda more about the team,” Payne said, keeping it blunt. “You got in… tried to build your way up to becoming a starter and a star for the team. Now it’s like guys just go anywhere they want to go.”

It was a gut-check from a player who gave Bama three years of war paint and bruises with nothing to show but pride and a national title ring. While Payne went on to become a Pro Bowler in 2022, locking down a massive extension with the Commanders, his words didn’t come from bitterness. It was a warning shot—a reflection on how the heart of the game might be slipping through the transfer portal cracks.

“I liked it when it was all about building the brotherhood of the team,” he added. Payne wasn’t just throwing shade at the NIL revolution—he was sounding the alarm on the combination of NIL and the portal turning college football into free agency chaos. And coming from a pre-portal warrior who left before the NCAA’s Wild West era kicked in, that hits a little different.

Remember, Payne didn’t play a single down in the transfer portal era. He was drafted 13th overall in 2018 and instantly became a force in the NFL. 102 tackles, five TFLs, and a national championship MVP later, he’s one of those guys who earned every inch the old-school way. But nowadays? One bad spring camp and you’re in the portal. One phone call from a booster and you’re flipping schools like shoes.

And yet, it’s not just about money—it’s about structure, loyalty, and, as Payne calls it, brotherhood. The House v. NCAA settlement opened up a pathway for past athletes to potentially get some form of backpay, but that doesn’t fix the fundamental shift that’s already shaken the sport’s soul.

Legendary CFB coach keeps it real on today’s wild NIL and transfer scene

While Daron Payne gave his perspective from the player trenches, former Washington Huskies and Boise State head coach Chris Petersen had his own version of the sermon. And he didn’t hold back either: “But there’s no question,” Petersen began, “the NIL, I think most people in the game—the coaches, the players, the admin—they get the NIL. I think everybody’s on board with that.” That’s the thing. No one’s out here pretending athletes shouldn’t get paid. The issue? The broken transfer system and nonstop tampering.

“It’s the transfer portal, and the tampering, and a player going to five schools in five years,” Petersen said. “And you’re right. It’s not better for the kids in the long run. There’s just no real structure to it.” And he’s got a point. Petersen may not be coaching anymore, but he’s still deep in the advisory circle at Washington, and he’s seeing the chaos firsthand. It’s like trying to build a house on sand when half your roster’s one tweet away from hitting the portal.

Petersen even acknowledged that NIL, in its ideal form, isn’t the problem—it’s the lack of a backbone. He kept it real: “I talk to many fans, like you, who are getting increasingly fed up with the college game.” That fan fatigue is real. Loyalty feels dead. A kid becomes a breakout star, and by January, he’s gone because another program threw a duffle bag his way.

Even with the House ruling trying to limit wild NIL payouts, schools will always find loopholes. Outside collectives, shell companies, brand deals—it’s like trying to plug a dam with duct tape. The game is evolving, and while some adapt, others—like Payne and Petersen—just wish it wasn’t at the cost of the soul of the sport.

Payne’s concern? He’s not mad at NIL. He’s mad that values that made college football great—brotherhood, sacrifice, and grinding your way up—are now just bags and clicks. And when legends like him and coaches like Petersen both raise the red flag? Maybe it’s time college football’s decision-makers start listening before the locker room loses what little soul it has left.