Our long national nightmare is over. Crybaby QB Brendan Sorsby is set to spend the 2026-7 season where he ought to: on his degenerate-gambling ass. His dreams of cashing in on his football skills came crashing down last week, at the hands of the NFL. Given that his chances of scoring $5 million playing for Texas Tech (his third college team) were looking dim, the solipsistic Sorsby got it into his head that the NFL should hold a supplemental 2026 draft for him and him alone. (And he might have found one taker, the truly desperate Cleveland Browns.) But the stench of Sorsby’s gambling activities was too much for the league, which punted his professional dreams into the 2027 draft. That is, provided he can keep his nose clean in the interim, which is no sure bet, pardon the pun. The Canadian Football League was quick to second that emotion.
The NFL’s rejection letter is a thing of beauty. It begins by pointing out that NO supplemental draft has been held for years (since 2019, according to one source), that Sorsby provided a complete dearth of supporting materials and that he petitioned the NFL only when it became clear the NCAA had no use for his keister. As one columnist opined, “the NFL has zero tolerance for gambling and isn’t going to hold a supplemental draft to cater to someone who isn’t playing college football anymore as a result of his strained relationship with the league as a result of his behavior.” In other words, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. It’s not like Sorsby made a careless wager or two. He was a gamblin’ fool, racking up literally thousands of bets in a checkered collegiate career that caromed through a trio of programs in pursuit of the almighty dollar. Ironically, he stood to get abnormally wealthy from Texas Tech before he blew it on a quixotic attempt to go nominally professional.
Of course, Sorsby being Sorsby, he is threatening to do again what he does best. No, not play football. Sue. He’s going to take his crocodile tears to the NFL players union, pursuing his inalienable right to get paid for chucking a spheroid up and down the field. The Athletic thinks that’s a Hail Mary that will fall short of the end zone. For one thing, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell has sole discretion on the holding of supplemental drafts, per the collective bargaining agreement. Also, “the NFL and the union have agreed to strict anti-gambling policies, and players found guilty of betting on any NFL games set themselves up for a minimum one-year suspension. Players guilty of betting on their own games draw suspensions of two years at a minimum. Seeking immunity for a future union member guilty of betting on his own team repeatedly could lead to conflicts between NFLPA leaders and current membership.” Lastly, Sorsby isn’t eligible for NFLPA representation, having neither been drafted nor signed.
Put bluntly, Sorsby is trying to exploit a very real disease—gambling addiction—as a get-rich-quick excuse. In a preposterous argument that a credulous Texas judge (naturally) bought hook, line and sinker, Sorsby argued that his blatant, willful and egregious violations of NCAA rules should bring no penalty because of the “irreparable harm” they would bring to his moneymaking prospects. By the same token, benching a player for drunk driving or (what the heck) suspicion of murder would cause him “irreparable harm.” Congratulations, America: We have officially become a consequence-free society.
As the NFL spanked Sorsby, “After receiving notice of the NCAA’s decision rescinding your college eligibility in May, you sought to avoid the consequences of that determination through litigation rather than accepting responsibility for your actions, and you pursued entry into the NFL only after abandoning those efforts.” And good luck to the league at enforcing its own clubhouse rules on gambling if it granted special treatment to the poster boy for betting on your own team. Quoth the NFL, “Reported conduct includes placing wagers on your own team and teammates and, to avoid detection, establishing or funding accounts in the names of intermediaries who placed bets on your behalf. There are also reports that you may have violated state criminal law.” If the latter is the case, Sorsby may have bigger problems than where he lands on the Browns depth chart.
Thousands of bets worth $90K suggest a deeper pathology than can be cured by Sorsby’s cosmetic, for-media-consumption 35 days in rehab. A year-long cooling-off period seems like just the thing for this privileged youth. It also presents the opportunity for him to work hard on something (kicking the habit) manifestly more difficult than finding an open receiver. As for gambling on your team as a bonding exercise, that doesn’t pass the laugh test. Maybe Sorsby would have bonded more quickly had he not always been looking for a lucrative off-ramp to another franchise, er, school.
Yes, the NCAA just dodged two bullets. One, it still has legal standing to enforce its own rules. Two, President Charlie Baker‘s foolish attempt to allow coaches and athletes to gamble on sports would have looked 10 times as stupid once l’affaire Sorsby broke. Fortunately, there were enough naysayers in the NCAA to shout Baker down at the last minute. And yes, integrity in the NFL is complicated, with the league itself enjoying (?) a tortured relationship with sports betting—it loves the money it brings, loathes the accompanying ethical pretzels it causes. But the NFL did the right thing regarding Sorsby and we hope it sends a message to anyone else thinking they can exploit the fans. And when Sorsby finally does enter the league, as seems unavoidable, we’ll enjoy every sack he takes and every interception he throws. Serves him right.