​I initially thought the news from the Big 12 yesterday had to be a joke. Could a college conference really put an energy drink’s name in front of its own identity? Guess again. That’s exactly what they did. They sold the naming rights to their entire brand and rebranded as the Monster Energy Big 12 Conference. This isn’t just an embarrassing move for the conference; it opens the door for copycats. I can envision it now: Olive Garden Audacy, Car Shield’s Daily Wire, CitiBank ESPN. If I spend enough, maybe I’ll become JetBlue’s Jason Barrett.
Let’s break down the numbers for a moment. Twenty million dollars per year for the entire conference, to be divided among sixteen member schools—roughly one million dollars per program per year. Does that seem a reasonable price to own the identity of an entire conference? It sure doesn’t to me.
And there’s more to the story. The deal covers conference naming rights for two sports—football and both men’s and women’s basketball. Yet a naming change of this magnitude inevitably affects every other sport as well. Public perception doesn’t draw a line between football, basketball, and the rest; the brand is one seamless whole. If you add up the total number of football and basketball games each school plays in a season—roughly 70 to 75 games—that would translate, under the stated figure, to around $15,000 per game to rename an entire conference. Owning the conference name is one thing; the deal also includes co-branded jersey patches for every team in football and basketball, co-branded logos on every playing surface, and a renaming of the conference’s regular-season events—now officially known as “Monster Energy Big 12 Football” and “Monster Energy Big 12 Basketball.” Big 12 Commissioner Brett Yormark has called Monster Energy the conference’s “entitlement partner” for both sports. The official line has been that the Big 12 and Monster Energy have entered a multi-year partnership, branding football as the “Monster Energy Big 12 Football,” and the same treatment for men’s and women’s basketball.
This strikes me as the contemporary equivalent of a radio salesperson peddling a $300-per-month package to a client for multiple spots, plus ownership of a show’s podcast channel, and the naming rights to the entire media enterprise. And let me be clear: this isn’t an emotional reaction. My interest in the Big 12 is minimal; this is a straight business analysis. There is no justifiable rationale for selling a conference’s identity for what amounts to peanuts. Short-sighted, opportunistic decisions tend to yield long-term consequences. It calls to mind the instance in Major League Baseball when there was a push to replace Cracker Jacks with Crunch ’n Munch in the early 2000s. The powers that be forgot that the seventh-inning stretch proclaims, “Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks.” Fans did not embrace Crunch ’n Munch; the brand faltered as soon as it hit the broader SEO and fan-facing reality. They revolted long before the marketing campaign had a chance to take hold.
In a world where fans can instantly search and compare, branding matters more than ever. The proposed Monster Energy Big 12 Conference fundamentally alters how the league is perceived, from its core identity to every surface and jersey worn by its athletes. If the objective was to monetize identity quickly, this approach may achieve that aim in the short term—but at what cost? What is the enduring value of an athletic conference’s brand if it’s subsumed under a sponsor’s name and aesthetic? The risk is not merely losing a catchy branding slogan; it is surrendering a meaningful, recognizable brand that fans identify with, year after year. The long-term implications deserve careful scrutiny, and as of now, there are more questions than comforting assurances.