Chris Graham

There’s a word that gets thrown around anytime someone suggests Nevada football should consider dropping from FBS to FCS:

“Quit.”

I don’t see it that way. I see it as the opposite.

Because what’s happening right now — year after year — isn’t “competing at the highest level.” It’s paying the highest-level price without getting the highest-level return. And at some point, a university has to ask the most adult question in sports:

What are we buying… and what are we getting back?

The part nobody wants to say out loud: the FBS version of Nevada is a money treadmill

Nevada Athletics has been running tight financially. In FY24, the department reported an almost $600,000 deficit.

And when you look at where the spending pressure lives, it’s not hard to spot the gravity well: football is expensive. Nevada’s football staff costs were reported at $3.933 million in FY24 — the largest single sport staff figure mentioned in that spending breakdown.

Meanwhile, the Mountain West distributions and media money help, but they’re not a magic wand. Nevada received $3.401 million from the MW media-rights deal plus $1.850 million in conference distribution (and NCAA distribution as well).

That’s real money — and it matters — but it’s also exactly the point:

At this level, the cost of “belonging” keeps rising faster than the payout for being average.

Attendance tells you what the market is willing to carry

Mackay Stadium is a proud venue. It’s a real college stadium with a real history, seating around 27,000.

But in 2024, Nevada’s average home attendance was reported around 17,288 per game (121,014 total across seven home games).

In 2025, it rose to 17,875 per game, with the biggest crowd 20,535 for the home opener.

That’s not nothing. But it’s also not the kind of demand that fuels an FBS arms race — especially when the on-field results don’t give casual fans a reason to build Saturdays around the Wolf Pack.

And that’s the brutal truth about modern FBS football: if you’re not winning big, you’re selling hope. If hope runs thin, everything else follows.

On-field reality: Nevada is not “one tweak away”

Nevada has been grinding through instability and rough seasons. Ken Wilson was fired after consecutive 2–10 seasons.

Jeff Choate was hired in December 2023 to stabilize and rebuild.

But rebuilds at this level don’t happen in a vacuum. You’re rebuilding while everyone else is buying players, upgrading facilities, growing staffs, and scaling NIL expectations.

And the results haven’t turned into the kind of momentum that changes the program’s ceiling overnight. Nevada finished 3-9 in 2025.

This isn’t a shot at any coach. It’s an acknowledgment of the ecosystem.

FBS is not just football. It’s an economic tier.

Here’s what FCS would give Nevada: a level where winning is realistic — and meaningful

Dropping to FCS would immediately change Nevada’s football identity from “trying to survive the week-to-week grind” to “building a program that can actually chase something.”

Because in FCS, the postseason isn’t a consolation prize — it’s the whole point.

The FCS format is a 24-team national championship playoff with conference auto-bids and at-large selections.

Read that again: a real bracket. Real stakes. Real late-season meaning.

Right now in FBS, the honest goal for a program in Nevada’s position is usually:

get to six wins, become bowl eligible, maybe go to a mid-tier bowl.

That’s the dream ceiling most years. And even that’s hard when you’re constantly fighting uphill in budget, recruiting, and depth.

FCS would give Nevada something we haven’t consistently had:

a reasonable path to national relevance on the field.

Not theoretical relevance. Not “hey we were on CBS Sports Network at 8:30pm.”

I mean relevance where your season can end with: you’re in the playoff bracket.

Scholarships and roster structure: cheaper doesn’t mean “small”

The scholarship limit difference is one of the core structural gaps: FCS is capped at 63 scholarship equivalents (often split into partials), while FBS historically has been higher.

Even acknowledging that scholarship rules are evolving, the broader point stays intact:

If Nevada wants to run football in a way that fits Reno, fits the university, and fits the department’s financial gravity — FCS is closer to the right-sized model.

The university angle: resources, priorities, and credibility

A public university has an obligation to steward resources responsibly. When athletics runs deficits, it doesn’t exist in a bubble.

If Nevada can reduce the FBS “keep up or die” pressure, it can redirect money into:

  • keeping coaches and support staff stable,
  • improving the actual student-athlete experience,
  • keeping ticket prices and fan access reasonable,
  • and making sure football doesn’t function like a permanent emergency line-item.

And here’s the part fans don’t like to admit, but administrators eventually have to face:

It’s easier to sell a winning identity than a “trust us, one more rebuild” identity.

“But we’d lose prestige.”

This is the emotional argument. I get it. FBS feels like the adult table.

But prestige isn’t a label — it’s a product.

If Nevada is mostly selling hope, mostly playing from behind, mostly living on thin margins, then the “prestige” is just branding on top of stress.

There is real pride in being a program that:

  • wins,
  • matters late in the season,
  • plays in playoff games,
  • and can build a culture fans recognize and rally around.

That’s not lesser. That’s healthier.

The bottom line

If Nevada football stays FBS, it has to commit to an arms race against programs with deeper pockets, bigger recruiting gravity, and stronger year-to-year stability — while Mackay attendance sits in the high teens most seasons.

If Nevada moves to FCS, it can build a version of Wolf Pack football where:

  • the economics align with the market,
  • the postseason is a real championship path,
  • and “success” isn’t defined by scraping together six wins.

That’s not quitting.

That’s choosing a level where Nevada can stop pretending — and start building something that actually fits.

— Chris Graham is a Carson City native, writer and lifelong baseball fan. A former Western Nevada College play-by-play broadcaster, his work focuses on sports, culture and community. He can be followed on his Substack at https://substack.com/@gamenotes.