Why you still say yes — even when the offer gets worse The 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes | Post #1

Why you still say yes — even when the offer gets worse! (The 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes, Episode 1)



You’d be surprised how often a player says yes to an offer that just got worse. In college sports, that’s not rare — it's all too common.

This is the first installment of my LinkedIn series: The 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes — a breakdown of the business, psychology, and decision-making that drives college athletics today.

As a current college basketball player with an MBA, and someone who’s studied at Stanford, Stony Brook, and now Northwestern, I’ve seen firsthand how these forces play out across levels.

Whether you’re a player, a parent, or someone helping guide an athlete through the process, the goal is to help you think more clearly, protect your leverage, and navigate the system like a pro.

This should take about 10 minutes to read — and it could change how you handle your next big decision.




This isn’t just basketball

While this example focuses on men’s college basketball, the dynamics apply across sports.

Whether it’s volleyball, softball, football, baseball, or track — athletes face similar pressures around offers, visits, and being told they’re a “priority.”

The dollar amounts might be different. The timelines may vary. But the pattern is the same:

A strong early pitch builds belief. Then the terms shift — often after the athlete has already said yes in their head.

This post is about helping athletes — in any sport — recognize that pattern, and protect their leverage.






Let’s say you’re James

James is a 20-year-old in the transfer portal. He’s had Zoom calls with four different schools. His mom and dad have joined him on a few. One program — let’s call it Blank University — stands out.

They offer him a full scholarship, a clear opportunity to contribute, and a $40,000 NIL package — which is significantly more than what other schools have offered.

Side note: For those unfamiliar with NIL, this acronym stands for “Name, Image, and Likeness”, it commonly refers to student-athletes’ right to make money in sponsorship deals/business opportunities, which became permissible for the first time in July 2021.

The pitch is polished, and the staff makes it clear: “You’re our top priority.”

It might be the dollar amount that grabs him. Or it might be something else: the way they describe his role in the offense, the opportunity to start, or the vision they lay out for his development. Some of that might hold up. Some of it might not. But in the moment, it all sounds great — and it starts to shift how James sees the school.

James starts leaning in. He watches their games. He tells his friends they’re the frontrunner. He imagines himself in their jersey. He posts about the school and their interest in him.

Then he takes his official visit — and everything seems to click.

The players are welcoming. The coaches are attentive. The team dinner is high-end, the energy is positive, and the locker room feels right. The campus is nicer than he expected. It’s close enough to home for his family to visit. The training staff seems sharp. The food is solid. And the system fits his game.

A big part of why James is noticing and appreciating all of these things is because of that strong initial offer — especially compared to what he’s seen elsewhere.

That number didn’t necessarily push him over the hump to visit -- but it was a factor. It made the school feel more serious, more competitive, and possibly more worth investing in.

Once James got excited, his brain did what all of ours do: it started searching for more reasons to justify that excitement.

“The coaches are great.” “The campus is really nice.” “The system fits me.”

These beliefs might be true — but they didn’t appear randomly. They were shaped by the strong starting point, and for some student-athletes, they may not have even been on campus to discover these reasons, unless the strong initial offer was made.

Psychologically, this is what’s called motivated reasoning — we generate support for decisions we want to make.

And once James wanted this to be the right school? His mind started building a case for why it was.

And confirmation bias kicks in. We focus more on the evidence that supports what we want to believe — and tune out what doesn’t. So every good meal, every positive conversation, every glimpse of the weight room feels like proof.

What changed

And here’s what makes this so important to understand:

If the NIL number had been relatively minimal upfront, James might not have done any of what came next. He has options of schools to choose from, and they all have different value propositions and financial offers for his NIL.

He may have never told his friends. Never booked the visit. Never imagined himself there.

But the high offer opened the door — and once it did, everything else started to fall into place.

By this point, James is fully bought in — emotionally, socially, and psychologically.

He’s already told friends the school is his frontrunner. He’s posted about their interest. He flew across the country for the official visit. He did a full photo shoot in the team’s uniform — and shared it on social media. He’s imagined himself in that jersey. He had a steak dinner with the coaching staff. He met the players, saw the facilities, and felt the energy. He’s built a list of reasons in his head that this school makes sense — and the belief is now rooted.

All of those small decisions add up to something powerful: James doesn’t just like the school — he’s begun to identify with it.

And that’s exactly when the offer changes.

Later in the visit, the NIL number drops — from $40,000 to $20,000.

The staff still wants him. They still say he’s a priority. But the contractual side of the pitch — the money — gets cut back significantly.

James pauses. But he doesn’t walk away.






Why He Stays

Because by this point, it’s not just about the numbers anymore — it’s about psychology.

First, we have a natural desire to stay consistent with our past statements and behavior. During the visit, James did a full photo shoot in the uniform — and posted it on social media. That wasn’t just for fun. That was a public, visual commitment — and one that told everyone watching: “I see myself here.”

He had already told friends the school was a frontrunner, shared their interest online, and made the trip in person. Once you’ve done all that, it’s not easy to shift course — even when something changes.

Second, when James received that strong initial offer, he started thinking about everything positive: the program’s history, the coaching staff, the fit, the system, the location. He built up a case in his head for why this school made sense. And when the NIL number dropped, all of those reasons were still sitting in his mind.

By the time the offer changed, James wasn’t just reacting to numbers — He was protecting a decision he had already started to make.








Why schools downgrade offers

This pattern isn’t unique to recruiting — it shows up in other negotiations, too.

They start with a strong price, let you imagine yourself behind the wheel or in that new house, maybe even talk to your friends about it. Then, when the final paperwork shows unexpected fees or a higher total — most buyers don’t walk away.

Why? Because they’ve already bought in emotionally.

In recruiting, it works the same way — not because coaches are designing psychological tactics, but because they’ve done this hundreds of times.

They get tons of reps. They watch how players respond. They learn what works.

And most importantly: Players usually don’t know how much money schools actually have to offer. Budgets are vague. Donors shift from year to year. There’s no public database yet. Everything is purely based on word of mouth at the moment.

That lack of transparency makes it incredibly difficult to negotiate — because you don’t know what’s possible, what’s typical, or what’s fair.

So why do offers sometimes change?

Budgets shift — another player commits, and the NIL pool changes
Strategic adjustments — the staff senses you’re already leaning in and they may not believe you need as much of a financial incentive
Non-binding early numbers — initial figures were more pitch than a contract
Perceived leverage — they believe your alternatives aren’t as strong, so they can offer you less as a result



These situations are not necessarily a sign of bad intentions. There are valid reasons a program might change an offer — budget constraints to roster changes. Returning players oftentimes negotiate their NIL for the following season, which directly reduces the money the school has to offer other players. Coaches are navigating a very complex space, where things change every day.

And to be clear: I’m not suggesting that most schools are intentionally overselling NIL packages.

However, coaches are absolutely pressured to compete.

And in today’s market, where transparency is limited, big numbers are easy to promise and hard to verify.

The reality is, many recruits today will walk away immediately if the financials don't feel strong. So some coaches may feel that they have to come in high to stay in the race — and figure out the rest later.

The bottom line is this: The terms changed. But your value didn’t.

What you can command for that value, though--that can shift.

It depends on timing, what teams need on their roster, who is also available in the portal, and the resources a program has.

You don’t have to accept less — even if you feel pulled to stay consistent with a decision you almost already made.






The power imbalance

Here’s why this happens so often:

Coaches recruit year-round. They do this every year, with dozens of players. They’ve learned what works.
Players don’t. Most will only navigate this type of decision once or twice.
Parents and families care deeply — but many are doing this for the first time too. They may not have a network or resources around them to identify whether the programs in play are legitimate or trustworthy.



That experience gap creates a very real imbalance — especially when emotion and urgency are involved, not to mention the financial piece.

Enter: BATNA

In business, there’s a term called BATNA — your Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement.




It means: What’s your best backup plan if this offer falls through?

In recruiting, your BATNA might be:

Another school ready to commit
Returning to your current team
Staying in the portal and waiting it out



If your BATNA is strong, you have leverage. If it’s weak — or unclear — you’re more likely to accept less than you should.

Never enter a decision without knowing your BATNA. And be prepared to walk away if the terms no longer reflect your value.



How to protect yourself like a pro



Here are a few ways to avoid the trap James walked into:

Ask directly: Is this offer final, or could it change after the visit?
Don’t mentally commit too early: Let belief build after the details are confirmed.
Recognize the hype for what it is — a sales pitch. It’s designed to generate emotion, not guarantee outcomes.
Know your BATNA: Always.
Final gut check: If this had been the original offer… would I still say yes?








Final thought

Recruiting is part athletics, part business, and part psychology.

Understanding that doesn’t make you cynical — it makes you prepared.

You’re not just choosing a school. You’re negotiating your future.

Learn the game, so the game doesn’t play you.



This goes beyond college athletics

Whether you’re a student-athlete, a parent, a coach, or a young professional entering a new space — the principles are the same.

Early promises create momentum. Emotional commitment shapes decisions. And when terms change, you need to find space, so you can have clarity and confidence to reassess.

If you’re navigating pressure, negotiation, or fast-moving decisions — this applies to you too.

Because in sports or in life — your value doesn’t go down just because someone lowers their offer.

This is just the beginning of the 10-Minute MBA for College Athletes — but the lessons go far beyond the game.






Have you ever faced a situation where an offer changed after you got emotionally invested — in sports, school, or even work? What helped you stay grounded? I’d love to hear how you navigated it — whether as an athlete, parent, or professional.

What do you think of when you envision someone who is locked in?

What do you think of when you envision someone who is locked in?

Is it a look on their face?
Is it their body language—do they have a powerful stance, with their head up and their shoulders back?
Can you tell they are locked in by something they say— “We’ve got this!” “Come on, let’s go!”

Is it something else?

If you visited Welsh-Ryan Arena this past season, you may have watched me play.

At Northwestern, I’ve become known for playing with a ton of energy and passion—diving on the floor, getting loud, bringing fire to the game whenever I play.

But here is the irony.

Behind all that visible intensity, and my enthusiasm and love for the game, I’m usually calm.

That’s right, calm.

Focused.
Yes, I’m excited—I love playing the game—but I have learned how to regulate my body, and my emotions, with breathing and visualization.

This steadiness helps me to stay focused and grounded, even when the game gets chaotic.

Because what I have learned on the court is that effort alone isn’t enough.

Performance oftentimes lies in a careful dance between physical exertion and mental clarity.

I pride myself on working as hard as I possibly can. Outworking is necessary for success in a competitive game.

But the reality is that the act of “giving your all” on the court is nuanced. Sometimes, full-out, instantaneous physical effort is needed, like when diving on a loose ball. Other times, a combination of physical execution and mental clarity are needed, like when reading help defense, or defending a ball-screen.

The effort is still there in both, but it looks different. It is thoughtful. It flows.

If you’ve watched me play, you might assume my mind is oftentimes racing, because I love playing with a lot of energy. But what you might miss, even as a careful observer, is the calm underneath—the calm which I, as well as other competitors, oftentimes work to cultivate while playing the game.

In sports, it is especially hard to recognize calmness, because there is constant movement. From the outside, the game could easily be interpreted as a constantly intense and fast realm, broken only by timeouts.
But internally, the best players oftentimes find a sense of stillness amid the chaos.

I’m still learning every day, but I’ve found that the more I can embrace that calm beneath the chaos, the more fully I can show up for my team, the game, and myself.

So, what do you think of when you envision someone who is locked in?