Evanson: UNLV's Matthew Sluka is a sign of bigger things to come, and of course, the money is behind it all

Who’s Matthew Sluka?

If we’re being real, few of you could’ve answered that question prior to Sept. 24. But now, a week removed from the starting, and undefeated, UNLV quarterback quitting the team over what he’s alleged was a breach of contract regarding his NIL agreement, he’s become another example of college football evolving for the worse.

Obviously, this is about money. And, I mean, what isn’t in 2024?

Sluka — who was a graduate transfer and two-time Walter Payton Award finalist while at Holy Cross — allegedly agreed to attend and play at UNLV for $100,000. But since arriving on campus this past August, the former FCS signal-caller was said to have received just a portion ($3,000) of what he claimed was the agreed upon price for his services.

Those services were fine but not great over the Rebels’ first three games, but they did have the team undefeated and being discussed as a legitimate contender for one of the sport’s 12 playoff bids to be named later.

That was leverage for Sluka, but not enough for the school, its coaching staff or collective, and rather than meet the quarterback’s demands or uphold their agreement depending on who you believe, they chose instead to call his bluff — which turned out not to be one.

There’s a lot to unpack here; from the fuzzy details of the deal itself; the apparent ineptitude of Sluka’s agent, Marcus Cromartie; beyond to the timing of his departure which will allow him to redshirt the 2024 season and find a new school when the first transfer portal window opens in December; and of course to the NCAA which has yet to create guidelines for what’s become “thunderdome” in the post-apocalyptic world of collegiate sport.

But what should also be apparent, along with scare the bejesus out of everyone with a stake in what can now only loosely be referred to as the NCAA game, is that this might only be the beginning of what could be a lot of white-knuckling for coaches and fans over the first month of — at the least — every football season.

As currently constituted, players get three games per season prior to burning their redshirt potential, which is why Sluka did what he did, when he did it. By leaving before game four, he preserved his final year of eligibility and left the door open for suitors who in the end might give him his $100,000 — or more.

For the record, I hate all of this.

I’ve many times stated that while I agree the players should get more, poo-pooing the monetary and tangential value of a college degree is both nonsensical and irresponsible from a messaging standpoint.

But beyond my personal preferences, imagine for a minute a few hypotheticals similar to the Sluka situation, but with a player that really “matters,” and on a team that matters a lot.

What’s stopping a quarterback, center or any other position of consequence from doing the same prior to game four? Or at halftime of game three against an archrival or highly ranked opponent? But instead of asking for what they and the school’s collective agreed upon, they instead ask for more — or else?

Sound great? Not to me, and nor should it to anyone who just wants to root for their school and its team on a Saturday afternoon, with little more than winning or losing on their mind. But if you think that sounds ridiculous, think again.

I know, these are different times. Times when everyone is being exploited, abused or simply undercompensated by “the man.” An era where its believed that inexperience and in many cases unproven subordinates are somehow worthy of equal compensation to the management level people who’ve spent years or in many cases decades honing their craft.

But even in that world, and in that world as it applies to team sports, should the individual truly think only of themselves and theirs? Because that’s what we have been and continue to foster with the college games and the money that’s now fueling and reshaping them all, and Sluka’s situation is just the tip of an iceberg that could ultimately sink what we’ve come to love about them over time.

Sluka himself is not the problem, for his situation appears to have warranted a break-up to at least some degree. But if you think he and it are exceptions to what are otherwise sound rules, there’s some oceanfront property in Arizona with your name on it.

NIL — at least in some way, shape or form — is here to stay, and that’s great for the supply making the most of their demand. But if you’re going to have it, my suggestion is to regulate it as well, and that’s not happening. As a result, you get real exploitation, along with the misunderstandings, lies and/or deception that led to a relatively obscure college quarterback stepping to the forefront of a problem no one seems to want to address.

Matthew Sluka may not have wanted to be that guy, but he has become him like it or not, and per usual — it’s the money dictating it all.