Last week, the LSU fanbase lost its collective mind over a rumor that quarterback Garrett Nussmeier had torn his ACL. No credible source, no official word, just whispers on the internet that quickly snowballed into “confirmed” news for some people. By the time actual media stepped in to calm the waters, the hot takes were flying- Nuss’ career was over, LSU’s season and playoff hopes were over, and Brian Kelly would inevitably be fired when we went 4-8.
Spoiler alert: Nuss is fine. And the only thing
truly torn was the fabric of our collective sanity for about four hours.
But the whole thing got me thinking — not just about how fast misinformation spreads, but about how we, as fans, talk about (and to) college athletes. Especially now that NIL and sports betting have changed the game.
The arrival of NIL (Name, Image, Likeness) money and the legalization of sports betting have changed how fans interact with, and feel entitled to, college athletes. Many players now have endorsement deals and public platforms that make them more accessible, but also more vulnerable. Add betting slips into the mix, and suddenly some fans talk to players like they’re professional commodities instead of student-athletes.
It’s not just “Beat our rivals to a pulp!” anymore; it’s “You cost me money!” And that’s where things turn nasty. We’ve seen players and even high school recruits, getting death threats. A slip up in the game leads to almost instant online abuse. Fans feel more entitled than ever. The love gets conditional. The criticism gets personal.
Over the summer, I had the privilege of attending LSU’s Golden Cleats Women’s Combine. It’s a behind-the-scenes fundraising event for the Kelly Cares Foundation where female fans get to run drills, talk with coaches, and hear directly from players. My group included some players’ moms who came to support their sons, and we got the chance to hear their side of things too. The conversation turned to how NIL deals and betting lines have affected players’ interactions with fans. I spoke with several players and their mothers about the realities of this online landscape.
The moms were visibly emotional about what their kids face online. They stressed that, yes, these might be large, talented boys who are lucky to be playing on a national stage, but they’re also still kids just figuring out who they are. They are still growing, still learning to manage college life, the weight of expectations, and their own development as both athletes and humans.
When I asked the players how they handle criticism, they didn’t sugarcoat it. They admitted that the criticism can really get under their skin and affect their mental health, even when they try to block it out. They said no one feels a loss more than they do, and that letting LSU fans down is the absolute worst part of losing a game.
But they quickly pivoted to how much they love the LSU fanbase. They practically lit up describing the energy during the pre-game march down Victory Hill, and how it feels to see a sea of purple and gold screaming their heads off and causing earthquakes in Death Valley during a big game. “That’s what we play for,” one said. “Y’all don’t know how much that means to us.” The players feel every bit of our love… and every inch of our disappointment.
I’ll admit it: I have a bet on Nuss to win the Heisman. I’d absolutely love to cash it. But that’s on me, not him. He doesn’t owe me a trophy, a payout, or anything else. I’m an adult who made that choice, and I can own it without turning it into his burden.
If there’s a lesson here, it’s that passion and perspective can coexist. We can care deeply and still keep the conversation human. Maybe before the season starts, we can all agree to take a breath before we hit “send.”
Because, to borrow a line from my favorite pop star- You Need to Calm Down!
