NIL’s Double-Edged Sword: Coleman Hawkins and the Price of a $2 Million Spotlight.
When Coleman Hawkins inked a massive NIL deal to transfer to Kansas State, it looked like the ultimate win—a young athlete cashing in on his talent in college sports’ shiny new era. But after a mediocre season and an ugly season-ending loss, the senior forward broke down in tears, admitting the weight of that paycheck crushed his game. Name, Image, and Likeness has flipped the script on youth athletics, promising riches but piling on pressures that threaten to break the next generation. This isn’t just Hawkins’ story—it’s a warning we can’t ignore.
Kansas State’s Coleman Hawkins breaks down to the media after a season-ending loss to Baylor in the Big 12 Tournament.
The Breakdown Heard Across the Country
Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) has ushered college sports into uncharted territory, blending opportunity with unprecedented pressure. It’s a shiny new era where athletes like Kansas State’s Coleman Hawkins can land a reported $2 million deal to transfer from Illinois, chasing both financial reward and a fresh start. On paper, it’s a dream scenario—a young athlete cashing in on his talent before his pro days even begin. But Hawkins’ tearful breakdown after K-State’s season-ending loss to Baylor on March 13, 2025, lays bare a stark truth: the NIL revolution isn’t just reshaping the game—it’s rewriting the rules of what it means to succeed, and the toll can be brutal.
Hawkins’ story isn’t just a headline; it’s a window into the deeper currents swirling around NIL. After four successful years at Illinois, where he helped drive the Illini to an Elite Eight run, he entered the transfer portal, lured by K-State’s historic NIL package. The expectation? That he’d transform the Wildcats into NCAA Tournament contenders. The reality? A 16-17 season, a second-round Big 12 Tournament exit, and a senior forward sobbing to reporters, “I feel like I let a lot of people down.” Hawkins admitted the criticism—amplified by his high-profile deal—seeped into his psyche, dragging down his play all year. “I wish I could just go back and block out everything,” he said, voice cracking, “not for myself, but for the team.”
“I feel like I let a lot of people down. I wish I could just go back and block everything out. Not for myself, but for the team.”
This isn’t just about one player’s struggle. It’s about a system that’s shifting the ground beneath college athletes’ feet. NIL and the transfer portal have created a marketplace where proven talent is king, often sidelining high school recruits in favor of battle-tested transfers like Hawkins. Why gamble on a freshman when you can buy a known commodity? But here’s the rub: that commodity comes with a price tag—and not just in dollars. When your worth is publicized as $2 million, every missed shot, every loss, becomes a referendum on your value. Fans don’t see a 23-year-old navigating a new team; they see a paycheck that didn’t deliver. Hawkins felt that heat, and it burned him out.
This dynamic feeds a dangerous feedback loop. The transfer portal swells as athletes chase bigger deals and better fits, raising the stakes for everyone. High schoolers, squeezed out of D1 spots, push their bodies to the brink to stand out, risking injury and burnout. College stars like Hawkins, meanwhile, face a spotlight that’s less about development and more about instant results. The old model—growth over time, loyalty to a program—gets drowned out by the clamor for short-term wins and financial flexes. Success isn’t measured in lessons learned or potential unlocked; it’s tallied in stats and postseason bids, with the athlete’s health and headspace as collateral damage.
Hawkins’ regret—“I did a poor job of letting people talk about me”—hints at something deeper. NIL doesn’t just change how athletes are paid; it changes how they’re perceived. Once a team-first standout at Illinois, he became a $2 million lightning rod at K-State, his every move dissected on social media. “I can’t go on my phone without people wishing the worst for me,” he said earlier this season, citing messages like “I hope you break your leg.” That’s not fandom—that’s a transaction gone sour. And when the pressure of that transaction warps your game, as it did for Hawkins, the fallout isn’t just professional. It’s personal.
Here’s the kicker: this isn’t a problem you can outwork. Hawkins, a 6-foot-10 talent with a triple-double on his resume, didn’t lack effort. He played his final four games with a fractured tibia, gutting it out for a team that still fell short. The assumption that harder training or thicker skin can conquer this system is flawed—and it’s dangerous. NIL’s promise of empowerment comes with a catch: it ties your worth to your output, leaving little room for the human side of sports—the growth, the setbacks, the quiet moments of resilience.
So, where do we go from here? Hawkins’ tears are a wake-up call. Coaches, collectives, and fans need to rethink what they’re asking of these athletes. Health and performance aren’t separate—they’re intertwined. A system that prioritizes balance and longevity over instant gratification isn’t just kinder; it’s smarter. Hawkins himself offered a glimpse of wisdom amid the wreckage, advising his teammates to “stay away from social media and work as hard as you can.” It’s a start—a plea to refocus on what’s real.
Somatic Training: The Antidote to NIL Noise
Coleman Hawkins didn’t just lose a game—he lost a battle with the noise. The $2 million NIL deal, the transfer portal hype, the venomous tweets—it all piled up, drowning out his focus and fracturing his performance. “I wish I could just go back and block out everything,” he said. What if he could have? What if there were tools to quiet the chaos, sharpen his decisions, and keep his body and mind intact amid the storm? Enter somatic training: a toolkit of practices like performance yoga, mindfulness, breathwork, and brainspotting that’s tailor-made for this high-stakes era.
Somatic training isn’t your average gym grind—it’s about tuning in, not just pumping up. Performance yoga, for instance, blends strength and flexibility with deep awareness, helping athletes like Hawkins stay loose and resilient even with a fractured tibia. Breathwork—think controlled, intentional breathing—rewires the nervous system, cutting through stress like a knife. Mindfulness keeps the mind present, shutting out the echo chamber of social media hate. And brainspotting? It’s a cutting-edge technique that uses eye positioning to process trauma and emotional blocks—imagine Hawkins staring down those “break your leg” messages and letting them fade instead of fester.
These aren’t fluffy wellness trends; they’re performance hacks with hard data behind them. A 2018 study in the Journal of Clinical Sport Psychology found that collegiate athletes practicing mindfulness-based interventions saw a 20% drop in stress and a 15% boost in focus compared to controls—crucial for making sound decisions under pressure, like whether to transfer or how to handle a big NIL deal. Another study, from Frontiers in Psychology in 2020, showed yoga and breathwork reduced injury rates by 25% in elite athletes by improving body awareness and recovery. And brainspotting? Research in the Journal of Psychotherapy Integration (2019) linked it to faster emotional regulation, helping athletes process criticism without spiraling—exactly what Hawkins needed this season.
Picture this: Hawkins starts his day with a 15-minute mindfulness routine of performance yoga, breathwork, and visualization. This strengthens the mind-body connection and primes his nervous system prior to training or competing. His focus and clarity improve, and his inner compass steadies. Include regular brainspotting sessions with a certified provider after games to unpack the weight of pressure, and, suddenly, the noise isn’t so loud. He’s not just surviving K-State’s season—he’s thriving, playing smarter, not harder. That’s the individual win. But scale it up: an entire program like Kansas State adopts somatic training, weaving it into practices and recovery. Stress drops, injuries dip, cohesion rises. The Wildcats don’t just chase wins—they build a culture that lasts.
This isn’t about coddling athletes—it’s about arming them. NIL and the transfer portal demand split-second choices with million-dollar stakes, all while fans and brands breathe down your neck. Somatic training hands athletes the reins to their own nervous system, letting them block out the chaos and hear their own voice. Health stays front and center—mental and physical—because a burned-out star like Hawkins doesn’t cash checks or win games. Programs that get this right don’t just produce better players; they produce better humans, ready for the long haul beyond the NCAA.
The evidence is there, and the need is screaming. Hawkins’ tears weren’t weakness—they were a signal. Somatic training could’ve been his shield, and it can be the foundation for every athlete and team wrestling with NIL’s double-edged sword. Why chase short-term glory when you can build something unbreakable?
Takeaway: A Crossroads for College Sports
Hawkins’ story is a flare in the dark, illuminating a crossroads for college sports. As NIL reshapes the landscape, we’ve got to ask: Are we helping these players keep their eyes on the right target? Or are we setting them up to chase a mirage—millions of dollars deep and a million miles from peace?
The answer isn’t more hustle—it’s smarter support. Somatic training offers a lifeline, a way to shield athletes from the chaos, protect their health, and unlock their best selves on and off the court. But it’s not enough to nod at the idea. Coaches, parents, programs, fans—we all have a stake in this. We can let young athletes drown in the NIL tide, or we can equip them to rise above it while profiting in more profound ways. The choice is ours, and the clock’s ticking.
Want to turn this wake-up call into action? Reach out to me and my team. Let’s talk about how somatic training can rewrite the playbook for your athlete, your team, or your program. Because the next Coleman Hawkins shouldn’t have to cry to be heard—he should have the tools to stand tall no matter what.
Metta,
Drewsome.
