The Ceiling Has Raised — But the Floor Is Still Too Low: A Former USL Player's Take on the CBA Battle & Player Rights

I'll be honest — this is one of the harder pieces I've sat down to write. Not because I don't know what to say, but because I know it all too well.

Ten years in the USL. I signed my first contract in 2012. I've sat in bus seats for 14-hour overnight rides, wondering what I am doing with my career. I've been in airport terminals while team management refused to give us per diem because we lost. I've watched teammates lose their contracts with no players' association, no union, no one to call — just a quiet goodbye and an uncertain future. And I was there in 2020 and 2021, part of the first-ever CBA negotiations in league history, understanding firsthand how complicated and emotional that process can be.

So when I watch the 2026 USL CBA standoff play out — with players authorizing strike action, the overwhelming majority of the player pool rejecting the league's latest proposal after well over a year of negotiations, and the season teetering on the edge — I feel all of it. Deeply. Because I've been there. And I want better for everyone involved.

The Ceiling Has Undoubtedly Raised

Let me be clear about something before I say anything critical: the USL I left is not the USL I entered in 2012. The growth has been real. Significant, even.

When I came into this league, pay was embarrassingly low. There were zero-dollar contracts — players quite literally suiting up for free. There was no standard for travel. No guaranteed health coverage. No players' association to call when management violated your rights, because there was no formal structure to define what those rights even were. The fact that we now have a union — that the USLPA exists at all — is a massive step forward for this sport in this country.

Playing conditions have improved. Travel standards are better. Pay has increased. Facilities across the league have upgraded. High-profile names are investing in clubs — Jozy Altidore is now part of an ownership group for a new OKC USL team alongside NBA star Russell Westbrook. Tim Weah invested in Brooklyn FC. Chris Richards joined a club ownership group for Birmingham Legion FC. These are guys who shaped American soccer at the highest level — in MLS, in the Premier League, at World Cups. Their belief in the USL as a business tells you something important about where this league is headed.

The league is attracting institutional capital, planning a Division One expansion with promotion and relegation by 2028, and genuinely positioning itself as a cornerstone of American soccer's future. I've seen it from the inside out. The ceiling has undoubtedly raised.

But the Floor Is Still Too Low

What is the floor, you ask?. The story of South Georgia Tormenta FC in early 2026 perfectly encapsulates it. And it is not a good one. USL player rights still need to be addressed.

When I entered this league in 2012, the floor was basically nonexistent. There was no formal structure protecting players from a club that couldn't make payroll, no association to call when management made a decision that felt wrong, no real recourse if a team decided to cut you loose without warning or explanation. You just accepted it, because the alternative was not playing. That vulnerability — that quiet understanding that you were essentially at the mercy of whoever signed your check — was just part of the deal. I lived it. A lot of guys I came up with lived it. I would be remiss if I didn't mention how the league and owners handled the 2020 COVID season; the uncertainty was swiftly managed and much appreciated by the players. I'm not saying the league and owners have always failed because that certainly isn't the case.

But when I hear about what happened to the players at South Georgia Tormenta FC this winter, I don't just read it as a news story. I feel it somewhere familiar. These were professional athletes who did everything that was asked of them. They showed up for preseason. They completed their medicals. They signed leases, in some cases moved their families, and in the case of international players, navigated the significant and stressful process of entering this country on a work visa — all with the reasonable expectation that a professional soccer club would be ready to honor the agreement on the other end of all that sacrifice. The owners, that took that responsibility on so many years ago, failed these players. The league failed these players. And it isn't the first time.

The ceiling has undoubtedly raised. But the floor is still too low.

I want to be careful here, because I don't know every detail of Tormenta's financial situation and I'm not in a position to assign blame with precision. What I can say is that this type of situation — a club that cannot meet its most basic obligations to its players — is not new to this league. It didn't start with Tormenta and it won't end there unless the league builds real accountability into how clubs are admitted and monitored. Clubs have been cycling in and out of this ecosystem for years. Some of those departures are just the natural evolution of a growing league. But some of them leave players holding the bag, and that pattern is the definition of a floor that is too low.

The league I entered in 2012 had essentially no floor at all. The league today has raised it meaningfully — I genuinely believe that and I'll say it again and again. But a floor that can still give way underneath a player who has done absolutely everything right is not a professional standard. It's a work in progress. And the people negotiating this CBA on both sides need to understand that every story like Tormenta's is an argument for why the floor matters just as much as the ceiling.

You Can Be Part of a System While Criticizing It

I sit in an unusual place right now. I've hung up my boots, but I haven't walked away from this league. Far from it — I have genuine dreams of becoming part of a USL ownership group someday. I love this league. I know it intimately. I know what it takes to build something here, how hard the operators work, how much some of these clubs mean to their cities and communities. I helped build a lot of those connections and still maintain them to this day.

But I will always be for the players. Always. Because I've been one. I've been the guy grinding for his opportunity, hoping management sees what he brings. I've been the veteran on the back end of his career trying to squeeze out another season. I have friends in this league — stars and role players alike — who give everything they have for the USL.

Loving an institution doesn't mean accepting its failures. You can want the league to succeed and still call out the ways it falls short of its own standard. You can believe in the mission and still stand firmly on the side of the people who make the product possible — the players.

In 2020, I wasn't afraid to speak up. The racial justice reckoning in this country was happening in real time, and I spoke out and called the league and clubs to account for their lack of response to social injustice. I spoke up then, while I was in the middle of it, and I feel compelled to speak up now as I watch from afar. As someone who has experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly in this league; I'm not afraid to use my voice to help propel change. Even as an outsider. Even knowing this piece might land wrong with owners or league leadership who I am connected with. That's okay. If it helps players feel more confident in what they are fighting for, then I've done my job.

Every Stakeholder Deserves a Thriving League

Here's what I want both sides to understand — because it matters for how we view these negotiations:

The USL ecosystem only works when all of its stakeholders flourish. Players. Coaches. Owners. Front office staff. Fans. The communities built around these clubs. Every single one of these groups is essential. You cannot have high-profile investor interest from Jozy Altidore and Russell Westbrook on one hand while players are being stranded in cities they just relocated to on the other. That's not a sustainable league. That's a contradiction.

Owners take on real financial risk. I respect that enormously, and I intend to experience it firsthand someday. Running a USL club is not a path to quick riches. The margins are thin and the challenges are real. The league's path toward expansion and a Division One structure will require immense capital and patience. I understand all of that. But that is the responsibility you knowingly take on as an owner. The USL is a business. Owning a USL franchise is a business decision. Business owners have a responsibility to their employees and that responsibility has been shirked too often over the past decade. One failure is too many.

Sustainable does not mean static. And it certainly doesn't mean leaving players exposed to situations like what Tormenta players faced this winter. If the league is serious about a world-class future, it has to build from the ground up — ensuring that every club meeting the minimum standard to field a team is truly ready to honor its obligations to its players. Not just on paper, but in practice. Every single time.

What These Negotiations Mean for the Future

These CBA negotiations are not just about this season. They are about what kind of league the USL intends to be. The first CBA in 2021 was, by the USLPA's own admission, the minimum possible starting point — a baseline that finally eliminated zero-dollar contracts and created at least some formal structure. This second negotiation is the real test. Can the league match the ambition of its business vision with the standards its players deserve?

The issues on the table — compensation, health coverage, contract protections, player image and likeness — are not radical demands. They are the baseline of what it means to operate a professional sports league. And they exist against a backdrop where clubs are still folding before the season starts, where players are still navigating a system that can pull the ground out from under them with almost no warning.

The USL is positioning itself as the future of American soccer. Division One. Promotion and relegation. Anchor tenants in mixed-use entertainment districts. This is an ambitious vision, and frankly, an exciting one. A vision that I fully plan to be a part of. But you cannot build a world-class league on a substandard labor structure. If the ambition at the top of the pyramid is real, it has to be supported by a foundation that treats every player — from the star to the guy on a flex contract trying to earn a full-time roster spot — with dignity.

A Note to the Players

To my guys currently in the league — I see you. I know exactly what you're going through, because I lived it for a decade. The grind. The uncertainty. The quiet frustration of loving a sport and an environment while also knowing something isn't quite right about how it values you.

Standing up for yourselves is not anti-league. It is pro-league. The best version of the USL needs players who feel respected, protected, and invested in the product they're building every single week. Your unity is powerful. Use it wisely. Stay the course.

A Note to the League

You have a once-in-a-generation opportunity. The investment community is paying attention. High-profile athletes are buying in. The 2026 World Cup is creating a wave of soccer interest in this country that you are perfectly positioned to catch. Don't let the stories of players stranded in cities they just moved to, or players left without recourse when clubs fold, become the defining narrative of this moment.

Get this done. Be on the right side of history here. Show the players — and the broader sports world watching — that you are building a league worthy of the vision you keep selling. The long-term success of this league hinges on this moment.

The Intersection I Stand At In Regards To USL Player Rights

I write this from a genuinely complicated place. I want to be an owner in this league someday. I spent 10 years helping this league grow and flourish, both on and off the field. I know the USL intimately in ways many current owners simply can't. I want to build something in a city, invest in young players, create an environment that is everything I wished mine had been. I believe in this league's future deeply.

And I will always, always be for the players. Not despite those two things, but because of both of them. A great league treats its players well. A great owner creates conditions that players want to play in, not just conditions they have to endure. The two positions aren't in conflict — they're the same position. If you truly believe in the long-term future of this league then you make the short-term investments, that may not be comfortable but will help get you to the long-term goal.

The ceiling has undoubtedly raised in the USL since I signed my first contract in 2012. I've watched it happen. I'm proud of what this league has become. But the floor is still too low — and until every player in this league can show up to preseason knowing that the club on the other end of their contract is prepared to honor it fully, the work isn't done.

Get to the table. Find the deal. Build the league that all of us — players, owners, fans — deserve.

---

If these ideas resonate, you should subscribe to the blog. I use this space to explore the realities of athlete transitions, investing, leadership, and decision-making beyond the surface-level narratives—drawing from real conversations, lived experience, and work inside sport and business. Subscribing ensures you receive future posts directly and stay connected as these themes continue to evolve.