The institutions of college athletics exist primarily as

Host: The moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery streaks of light across the empty streets. A crisp breeze stirred the air, carrying the scent of distant rain. Jack leaned against the cold concrete of the old brick building, his arms crossed, his face half-shadowed, as he stared at the ground. Jeeny sat on the edge of a nearby stone bench, her eyes dark, her hands folded in her lap, the soft glow of the moonlight highlighting her sharp features. The silence stretched for a moment, heavy, like the weight of the world was pressing down.

Jack: “Universities as entertainment? The whole thing’s built on fiction. These institutions, they don't exist to educate anymore, they sell the idea of education like it's just another product. Sports, masks of academic prestige, paraded to distract people from the truth. They’re nothing more than a spectacle. Deceitful, like everything else.”

Jeeny: “You're wrong. Education still has purpose. There's meaning in what universities stand for, what they represent. Just because the institution has been hijacked doesn’t mean we should dismiss everything it offers. College athletics may be flawed, but the heart of it, the hope it inspires—that’s still real. The love for the game, the unity, that’s not a lie.”

Jack: “Unity? Come on, Jeeny. What hope do they inspire, really? Just look at what’s happened to the players, the schools. It’s all about profit, viewership, TV deals. It’s about selling these kids as products, turning dreams into cash. What do you think a university like Duke is selling when it puts millions into its basketball team instead of, I don’t know, research or scholarships for students who actually want to learn?”

Jeeny: “You’ve turned it all into numbers, Jack. Cold, hard facts. But what about the dreams of those kids? What about the moments when they’re on that court, giving everything they have? The crowds, the adrenaline, the feeling of being seen? That’s not something you can put a price on. Sure, the system’s broken, but it doesn’t change the fact that it matters. It means something to the people who are living it.”

Jack: “It’s not real, Jeeny. You think they care about the game? Half of them don’t even get a degree. They’re out there sacrificing their bodies for a game, with a handful of them actually seeing a career in sports. The rest? They disappear, forgotten. And what’s left of the university? A giant money machine, grinding out more deceit. That's the reality.”

Jeeny: “And you think it’s any different in other industries? Politics, business, they’re all driven by money. But that doesn’t mean people can’t find meaning in their work. Maybe the whole system needs to change, but there’s still good within it, Jack. You can’t strip away the humanity of it all just because it’s complicated. There’s power in the community, in the shared experience.”

Host: The wind picks up, rustling the leaves in the trees above, their shadows shifting with the rhythm of the conversation. Jack’s eyes flicker with skepticism, but Jeeny’s voice grows stronger, filled with passion. The tension between them is palpable.

Jack: “People want the illusion, Jeeny. They want the dream. They’re fed it like junk food. But when they wake up, the truth is ugly. Universities should be places of growth, discovery, not billion-dollar industries built on lies. It’s all a charade, and the people who benefit from it don’t care about the students or the athletes. They’re just pawns in a game they can’t even see.”

Jeeny: “Then what do you suggest, Jack? Tear it all down? You think leaving people with nothing will make it better? The world is already broken enough without us destroying what’s left of the things that bring us together. The athletes are humans with dreams, and the universities, despite all the flaws, are still the places where they have a chance to be something more than they were before.”

Jack: “But at what cost, Jeeny? The system has a price, and it's paid in sweat, in sacrifice, in lost futures. It’s all built on the myth of the American Dream—the idea that if you just work hard enough, you’ll get your shot. But only the ones who are already privileged get to take a shot. Everyone else is left behind. You’re romanticizing a broken system.”

Jeeny: “Maybe it’s not about the system. Maybe it’s about the people inside it—the ones who still believe in the possibility of change. The athletes, the students, the coaches. They are the ones who keep the dream alive. If you can’t see that, then I’m not sure what you’re fighting for anymore. You can’t let the corruption of the system take away what’s good in it.”

Host: The silence grows, a heavy pause hanging between them. Jack’s jaw tightens, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe. Jeeny’s voice softens, but the fire in it is still there, steady and sure. Their words have carved deep into each other’s souls, but neither is ready to concede.

Jack: “Maybe… Maybe I’m too cynical, Jeeny. But you can’t ignore the reality—there’s always going to be someone pulling the strings. And when you’re at the bottom, all you can do is hope for a break.”

Jeeny: “And sometimes, that’s enough, Jack. Hope isn’t a weakness. It’s what keeps us fighting. Even when the world feels like it’s falling apart, we can still choose to believe in something better. Maybe that’s where the change begins.”

Host: The moonlight flickers as the clouds drift across the sky, casting the world into shadows and light. In that moment, the two of them—Jack and Jeeny—are caught between two worlds: one where the truth is cold and harsh, and the other where hope glimmers like a distant star. Their battle isn’t over, but for now, they both hold the other’s belief in the balance between truth and dream.

As the night deepens, the wind dies down, and the city settles into a quiet, like the calm before a storm. Jack and Jeeny sit in the stillness, side by side, not needing to speak to understand the weight of what they’ve just shared.