College Track & Field Is Drifting Into Irrelevance — And the 2025-26 Season Proves It
Track and field is about to return. Or at least the college version of it is. With the NCAA season kicking off this weekend, you’re going to hear something about it — whether from my channel or many others who follow the sport closely. But I’m at a point in my career where I may just know too much. And it’s long past time we have a real conversation about what’s happening in college track and field.
A lot has happened in the last year. From Sam Seemes warning at the USTFCCCA convention that “the sport is under siege,” to continued program closures extending into the summer, the problems aren’t hidden anymore. Meanwhile, we’re in a strange cultural moment where Quincy Wilson is on the verge of stepping into college track — but he isn’t running this year. On top of that, the NIL era continues to reshape recruiting, pressure athletic budgets, and redefine expectations. It all brings excitement, sure. But it also reveals the NCAA’s deep structural issues.
And while I’m not trying to be negative, someone needs to say what’s actually going on here. College track is coming back — but unless you put in real work to follow it, you probably won’t hear much about it. When I say that college track and field is “effectively dead,” I know it sounds like hyperbole. But in the court of public opinion, our sport barely exists. You can’t fix the problem until you admit there is a problem.
The Season Will Start — But Will Anyone Notice?
The indoor season kickoff is here, and traditionally, it doesn’t mean much. But I’ve seen enough seasons to know exactly how the next few weeks will play out.
At Boston University, we’ll see elite distance runners — fresh off the cross-country championships — chase collegiate records. And some of them will go down. Jane Hedengren, Habtom Samuel, and several others will headline a BU meet that hardcore fans always circle on the calendar.
Then those same athletes will disappear until their conference championship meets… if they even run there. Nothing in the regular season actually matters. Not the meets, not the wins, not the head-to-head matchups. Everything in NCAA indoor track & field comes down to seed times. Run something fast early, and you can sit out nearly the entire rest of the year.
Tell me where I’m wrong.
Meanwhile, Boston University hosts one of the few meets that are actually posted on time. Many schools still don’t have updated schedules for 2025–2026. As of writing this, the University of Georgia — home to Maurice Gleaton Jr., a USATF finalist and relay pool member — still doesn’t have an official schedule on its website. Some dates may float around social media, but that doesn’t count.
Fans can’t follow what they can’t find.
Endless Meets, No Stakes, No Urgency
Even when schedules are posted, the majority lack start times. And even if they had start times, it wouldn’t solve the core problem: collegiate meets run forever. They are basically scrimmages — endless heats, low stakes, no reason to care who wins or loses.
We run 12, 15, sometimes 20 heats in the sprints. Distance events have multiple sections where nothing meaningful is on the line. Athletes chase times, not victories. And once you hit your qualifying mark for conference or nationals, the rest of the season might as well be glorified practice.
If you’re an elite athlete aiming for NCAAs? That’s exactly what it is.
The Quincy Wilson Question: What His Commitment Really Exposed
Let’s talk about Quincy Wilson.
His move to Maryland might work out for him personally — training, environment, coaching, NIL, all of that. But here’s the truth no one wants to say out loud:
Quincy Wilson chose a program that has almost zero institutional investment in track and field.
Maryland tried to cut men’s track. They eliminated cross country and indoor. They retained outdoor track only. Last year, Maryland scored three points at the Big Ten Men’s Championship — dead last, with every other team scoring at least five times more.
So when Quincy says he wants to “put Maryland on the map,” well… he’s going to have to do it outdoors. Because Maryland doesn’t run indoors. And they don’t have a real scholarship budget. If they found money for Quincy, good for him. But the reason Maryland’s sprinting program has been non-competitive is simple:
They weren’t giving out real scholarship money.
Again, tell me where I’m wrong.
The Harsh Reality: Track Is Not a Scholarship Sport
Here’s the part no one wants to admit:
If you’re a high school recruit hoping for a full-ride scholarship in Division I track and field… you chose the wrong sport.
I ran college track. I love it. But full rides in track are extremely rare. Football and basketball dominate scholarship allocations. Track athletes get by on partial aid, academic money, or nothing at all.
You can have a great experience in track. You can reach new heights. But fan interest? Media exposure? Revenue? Those things barely exist.
College Track Has a Fan Problem — Because It Has a Product Problem
This past spring, I attended the NCAA East Regional. I saw parents. I saw teammates. I saw coaches. What I didn’t see were fans.
This is a Division I championship qualifier — and there were almost no spectators.
Sam Seemes warned the USTFCCCA convention that without real changes, programs would close, scholarships would shrink, and jobs would disappear. He said the time for change was “yesterday.” Proposals were reviewed. Discussions were held.
Then everything was voted down.
Nothing changed.
College Track Could Be Amazing — If It Actually Chose a Format
Track and field has:
Elite talent
International interest
Storied rivalries
Massive high school participation
Athletes who will literally run through a wall
But the sport never defined its own product.
Option 1: Fix the Championship Structure
We could build a conference-to-national system that carries real momentum. Conference championships are already the best thing Division I track does.
Option 2: Make a Real TV Product
Shorter meets.
Fewer events.
Every race with consequences.
Actual scoring that matters.
You could create something ESPN wants to broadcast.
Option 3: The Easiest Solution — Just Copy Football
Dual meets exist. They always have:
Army vs Navy
UCLA vs USC
Lafayette vs Lehigh
Imagine a world where:
Teams face off weekly
Meets last less than 3 hours
Wins and losses matter
Rankings exist
National titles are earned through actual competition
People would watch that.
Because they already want to.
Fringe fans I meet all the time tell me, “I actually like track — I’d watch if the product made sense.” They aren’t lying. We just don’t give them anything watchable.
The National Championship Is Not a Team Championship
Let’s be honest: the NCAA indoor championship is really just an All-American meet. I’m not against that format — I just wish we’d call it what it is. Then create a separate, legitimate team championship with real stakes.
Instead, we get a scrimmage season followed by a seed-time lottery.
The Viewing Experience Is Broken
Even if someone wanted to watch track:
Meets don’t have schedules
Start times are unreliable
End times are unknowable
Races don’t matter
Streaming platforms show whatever chaotic schedule they’re handed
ESPN+ and FloTrack aren’t at fault. They air what they’re given. The problem is the product itself.
What Will Happen This Season (And Why It Won’t Matter)
Between now and the NCAA Indoor Championships, here’s the script:
BU distance runners will run time trials.
Somebody will drop a top-five all-time 300m, an event that doesn’t even exist outdoors.
A small-school sprinter will top the early NCAA 60m list.
January and February will be filled with fast times, world leads, and chaos — none of which will matter for team outcomes.
Conferences will be predictable because funding is predictable.
The NCAA Indoor Championship will showcase the same handful of title contenders: Arkansas, Texas Tech, USC, Georgia.
And I’ll be there watching all of it.
I just wish more people could — or would — watch too. But it’s hard to cover a sport that won’t even tell you when the meets are. Or when they start.
But hey, what do I know? I’m just a voice in the wilderness.