The long read: the new politics of college football in the American South

In September, Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth arrived at Texas A&M University as part of his “Send Me” tour. While in College Station, Hegseth addressed the Corps of Cadets, met with Texas Governor Greg Abbott, and appeared at Kyle Field before the Aggies faced the University of Kentucky. He was introduced to the crowd alongside Abbott and Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins, and later received boos as the game unfolded.
In Austin, Senator Ted Cruz appeared on College GameDay to discuss federal legislation governing college sports. In College Station, Hegseth used a football weekend to promote a broader political message about the military, education, and American values. In Baton Rouge, Louisiana’s governor intervened directly in LSU athletics. In Auburn, one of Alabama’s most prominent political figures built his public profile through a football coaching career. Meanwhile, President Trump recently visited Knoxville to attend the Tennessee-Texas game.
Together, these developments point to an intriguing trend in American politics, particularly in the South. Why are national politicians increasingly treating college football venues, programs, and institutions as political spaces? The question is not simply whether politicians enjoy football, but how the sport serves their political interests.
Austin: When College Football Becomes a Policy Platform
On 12 September, Senator Ted Cruz appeared on College GameDay, which the University of Texas hosted. Notably, Cruz is not an alumnus of the University of Texas. This observation is not intended to question his enthusiasm for the Longhorns, but rather to highlight the political purpose of his appearance: promoting the Protect College Sports Act. The timing was particularly significant. On September 15, the Senate voted 74–24 to advance consideration of the legislation, and the Commerce Committee released an updated version on September 17.
The Protect College Sports Act is a bipartisan bill addressing college athletics as a whole, not just football. Three of its most prominent provisions address athlete eligibility, name, image and likeness (NIL) rights and protections for women’s sports. First, athlete eligibility would be governed by an age-based, five-year framework beginning at age 19 or upon first collegiate enrollment, whichever comes first. Second, a national NIL framework would replace the current patchwork of state laws. Third, the bill would establish an additional fund capped at $5 million for women’s and non-revenue sports, preserve Title IX protections, and expand whistleblower protections to cover Title IX-related matters.
Cruz’s appearance on College GameDay therefore served a purpose beyond promoting his political interests among sports fans. It brought college athletics legislation into a high-profile, mass-media conversation.
This strategy works because college football has evolved into much more than entertainment. Its enormous audiences, extensive alumni networks, and close ties to regional identity give college programs considerable cultural influence, particularly in the South. Meanwhile, the billions of dollars involved have made college athletics an increasingly consequential economic and labor issue. As debates over the future of college sports have expanded, policymakers have assumed a greater role in determining how athletics should operate. College football has thus become not only a cultural institution but also a platform for politicians to engage with broader debates over education, labour, regulations, and American identity.
College station: when football weekends become political stages
While Cruz used College GameDay to discuss sports policy, Hegseth visited College Station to advance a message that extended well beyond football. His appearance at Texas A&M was connected to military recruiting and the Department of Defence’s “Send Me” tour. The university’s Corps of Cadets provided a particularly receptive institutional setting for his message, after which he appeared at the Aggies’ game.
This setting is significant because Texas A&M has a strong military tradition. Its Corps of Cadets is one of the largest uniformed student organisations outside the military academies, giving the university a distinctive relationship with military culture.
Football offers something that a formal military event cannot: access to a massive gathering of students, alumni, political figures, and members of the broader public. By appearing at the game alongside Governor Abbott and Secretary Rollins, Hegseth could bring a political message about the military and American values to an audience that had gathered primarily for a sporting event.
The significance of this appearance lies in how political messaging can become embedded in the rituals and traditions of college football. A football game provides not only a large audience but also a setting in which institutional identity, regional pride, and national symbolism already carry considerable weight.
Baton Rouge: when the Governor enters the athletic department
Governor Jeff Landry’s relationship with Louisiana State University football extends beyond that of a governor who supports his state’s flagship team. On the day LSU fired head coach Brian Kelly, Landry held a meeting at the Governor’s Mansion to discuss the legal implications of Kelly’s contract. Landry was concerned that Louisiana taxpayers might ultimately bear the cost of a $54 million buyout.
Landry later stated that the athletic director would not select the program’s next head coach and subsequently dismissed the athletic director. Lane Kiffin was eventually hired as head coach. Landry has also been involved in a public dispute with the Southeastern Conference after the SEC filed a lawsuit against LSU, Kiffin, the athletic director, the LSU president, the Louisiana attorney general, and the LSU Board of Supervisors.
Political involvement in LSU football, however, is hardly new. Former Governor Bobby Jindal, for example, once instructed LSU leadership to retain head coach Les Miles “no matter what” after Miles attracted interest from the University of Michigan.
The most prominent historical example is Governor and later Senator Huey Long, who took an exceptionally hands-on approach to LSU football. As governor, Long significantly expanded the university and helped strengthen its football program. In 1931, he personally selected the university’s new president, James Monroe Smith, who largely allowed Long to exercise considerable influence over the program. Long even served meals to players, delivered regular halftime speeches, and suggested plays. His interference eventually contributed to the resignation of head coach Lawrence Jones.
Auburn: when football becomes a political résumé
Before entering politics and winning election to the U.S. Senate in 2020, Tommy Tuberville coached Auburn from 1999 through 2008, including its undefeated 2004 season. He is now the Republican nominee for governor of Alabama and is widely considered the favourite to win.
Tuberville is also known for placing a ten-month hold on hundreds of senior U.S. military nominations and promotions beginning in February 2023. More recently, on 22 September, Tuberville claimed that an “alarming number” of commercial airline pilots, flight attendants, and air traffic controllers belonged to the furry community, describing this as a “terrifying” flight-safety risk. That claim remains unsubstantiated.
How does a football coach with no formal background in political science or law, and a tendency to make controversial public statements, rise to the U.S. Senate and position himself for a likely move to the Alabama Governor’s Mansion? The answer is relatively straightforward. Coaching a major football program such as Auburn provides immediate name recognition, established relationships with donors, regional credibility, and a recognisable public persona. These advantages can serve as valuable political assets long before a candidate enters the political arena.
Tuberville is not the only former SEC coach to transition into Republican politics. Former Tennessee head coach Derek Dooley entered Georgia’s 2026 Senate race, challenging incumbent Democrat Jon Ossoff. His candidacy provides another example of how a football résumé can become a political asset in the South.
In these cases, football offers more than a recognisable name. It provides an established relationship with a community, a record that voters can readily understand, and an identity rooted in a regional institution. A successful coaching career can therefore function as an informal political credential, even when it does not directly demonstrate experience in public policy or government.
What actually changed?
The central question is what has changed. Rather than suggesting that politicians have only recently become interested in college football, it is more accurate to recognise that political interest in the sport has a long history. What has changed is the structure of college athletics itself.
The commercialisation of college sports through NIL agreements, revenue sharing, media rights, conference realignment, and the transfer portal has created new political and regulatory challenges. As a result, college football increasingly intersects with state government, university governance, donor interests, media companies, federal legislation, and cultural politics.
Growing up in Upstate New York, college football was always viewed as secondary to the NFL. If college sports ever did come up in conversation, the focus was usually on Syracuse basketball. Until I turned eighteen, the only college sporting events I had attended were basketball games at Harvard and Siena. As a result, the idea of a governor interfering in a college football program feels foreign to me. New York Governor Kathy Hochul, for example, would be unlikely to intervene in a university football programme at a state university such as the University at Buffalo.
My experience was quite different from the role college football plays in much of the South, where American football remains one of the few institutions capable of bringing together people from a wide range of backgrounds. Politicians, business leaders, university officials, alumni, students, and regular voters all gather in the same stadium, creating a shared space in which political relationships can be built, and public messages can reach broad audiences.
This combination of cultural influence and growing financial importance helps explain why college football has become such a consequential political setting. As the business of college athletics grows more complex, the incentives for political involvement grow alongside it.
The question of political space and Saturday politics
The broader question is when a football venue becomes a political space. The cases of Cruz, Hegseth, Landry, and Tuberville illustrate different forms of political engagement with college football. These examples are not identical, but together they show how the sport can function as a policy platform, a cultural arena, an institutional battleground, and a network for political relationships.
Cruz used a nationally televised football program to promote federal legislation. Hegseth used a football weekend to advance a message about military service and American values. Landry became directly involved in the governance of LSU athletics, while Tuberville’s coaching career helped establish the public profile that later supported his political ambitions.
Ultimately, these cases raise important questions about the role elected officials should play in college athletics, the implications of political involvement for university autonomy, and whether the sport’s growing financial importance makes political intervention increasingly difficult to avoid.
The story is not that politicians have discovered college football. They obviously have always been interested in it. The more significant development is that college football has become an increasingly consequential arena in which politics is conducted, debated, and performed.
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