The investor planning to plow billions into the Big Ten in exchange for an equity stake in a newly formed commercial subsidiary announced Monday that the offer was on hold “to complete our due diligence as recent developments unfold.”
It was a polite way for UC Investments, which is part of the University of California pension fund, to say the Big Ten needs time to get its you-know-what in order.
Because goodness, the conference could stand to decompress, reassess and clean up this mess.
The lack of alignment — not only among campuses but also between certain schools and the commissioner — has clear and distinct Pac-12 vibes (circa 2015-2020), and that’s not a healthy position for any conference.
We aren’t suggesting the Big Ten is on the brink of fracturing, especially not with a grant-of-rights agreement that binds the schools together until 2036.
But the issues are not limited to the UC Investment proposal, and they begin at the top, with the presidents and their chief agent, commissioner Tony Petitti.
Petitti has been on the wrong side of several major strategic initiatives in his 2.5 years on the job, with his radical plan for an expanded College Football Playoff — he’s pushing a format based on multiple automatic bids for the major conferences — the most public and lasting example.
But at least the Big Ten schools appeared fully aligned with Petitti’s playoff proposal and his push to create a single transfer window in the spring. (The new window will be in January, a timeframe favored by the SEC, ACC and Big 12.)
That was not the case with the paused plan to accept as much as $2.4 billion from UC Investments. Petitti expended immense political capital to push the private capital deal across the line, and failed.
His grand plan was rejected by Michigan and USC, which took exception to various aspects of a deal that would have extended their grant-of-rights agreement (from 2036 to 2046) in exchange for massive up-front payments — Michigan would have received $190 million; USC, $150 million — and a tiered revenue distribution system.
Officially, the plan isn’t dead, but it’s clearly in a medically induced coma following public pushback from two of the Big Ten’s blue bloods.
Mark Bernstein, chair of Michigan’s board of regents, told the Wall Street Journal: “It’s clear to us that the Big Ten is considering punishing the University of Michigan” for failing to support the private capital infusion.
Meanwhile, USC athletic director Jen Cohen outlined the school’s opposition in a recent letter to the Trojans community:
“Our fiduciary obligation to the University of Southern California demands we thoroughly evaluate any deals that could impact our long-term value and flexibility, no matter the short-term benefit. We greatly value our membership in the Big Ten Conference and understand and respect the larger landscape, but we also recognize the power of the USC brand is far-reaching, deeply engaging, and incredibly valuable.”
It was a softer version of Michigan’s stance, which suited USC’s role as the Wolverines’ wingman in opposition.
And according to multiple sources with knowledge of the negotiations, Ohio State — the biggest of the Big Ten’s big kahunas — had not committed to voting in favor of the deal.
If this all sounds familiar to longtime followers of the Pac-12, it should. The upside-down nature of the former conference, in which presidents of Arizona State and Oregon State wielded more clout than their counterparts at USC, Oregon and Washington, created a culture of contention between the campuses and former commissioner Larry Scott.
So, too, did Scott’s top-down management style, lavish spending, rift with the athletic directors and impulse to prioritize his reputation and image over what was best for the schools.
(In the late 2010s, when Scott’s misguided strategy with the Pac-12 Networks placed the conference at a massive revenue disadvantage, he proposed a private equity infusion, along with the creation of a commercial arm. USC opposed that plan, as well.)
Now, Petitti is not Scott.
He’s savvier and far less concerned about his image. Also, he possesses an earnest desire to work on behalf of his membership. Petitti wouldn’t push for multiple automatic bids to the CFP or for the private capital infusion if the appetite didn’t exist across the bulk of his campuses.
The problem: His 18-school conference is as disparate in financial resources and competitive desires as it is sweeping in geography. What works for Purdue, Minnesota and Maryland doesn’t necessarily work for USC, Michigan and Penn State. (In the case of private capital, what works for Penn State doesn’t even work for Michigan.)
And just as there was constant, low-level tension for years between Scott and the Trojans, it now appears Petitti, who was hired in the spring of 2023, has himself a Michigan problem.
The school was not pleased with Petitti’s decision to suspend former Wolverines coach Jim Harbaugh for three games in the ’23 season for the sign-stealing scandal. Add the public pronouncements by Bernstein and fellow Michigan regent Jordan Acker, who dared utter the ‘I’ word (Independence) in a recent interview, and there’s clear disagreement between the commissioner and the powerful board members of the Big Ten’s second most-powerful school.
Petitti’s failed push to secure the private capital deal without Michigan and USC agreeing to extend their grant-of-rights by 10 years (to 2046) only adds to the unseemly vibes and appearance that he’s working on behalf of the little guys.
(Ohio State’s grievances with the conference office are, to this point, limited to 12 p.m. Eastern kickoffs and Barstool Sports’ Dave Portnoy, which hardly rise to the level of Michigan’s board-fueled opposition.)
Then again, the Big Ten has more little guys than big guys, which stands at the core of the daunting challenge facing Petitti. The systemic pressures on all fronts — from revenue sharing to debt service, from CFP expansion to media rights negotiations — will only increase over time.
Consensus could become increasingly difficult to forge on issues great and small.
The Big Ten in 2025 is not identical to the Pac-12 of 2015, but there are enough rudimentary similarities to suggest a choppy road ahead.
Fortunately for Petitti, the current grant-of-rights deal has 11 years remaining. Nobody’s going anywhere. They are stuck with each other, for better or worse, in pursuit of the great green light of alignment.
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