USC just locked in a 10-year apparel deal with Nike and refused to tell the public how much money is changing hands — while working-class families who pay tuition at these institutions watch their own businesses collapse around them.

The Los Angeles Times reported that USC and Nike extended their all-sports apparel partnership through 2036, ensuring a corporate relationship that will stretch into its fifth decade. Athletic director Jennifer Cohen called it "one of the great partnerships in college athletics." The financial terms were not disclosed. The public — including every student and family funding this university — has no right to know.

We know what these deals look like elsewhere. Ohio State signed a 15-year, $252-million Nike deal in 2016. Michigan inked an 11-year, $174-million deal with Nike and Jordan Brand. The LA Times framed the arrangement as part of an "apparel arms race" around college football. Arms races benefit arms dealers, not the people footing the bill.

The new USC deal includes an NIL component for "select top-tier Trojan athletes," Nike strength equipment for the new Bloom Football Performance Center, custom basketball uniform collections, and a bookstore renovation. The stars get theirs. Nike gets its branding. The athletic department gets its revenue stream. Who doesn't get anything? The students carrying the debt load that funds this entire operation.

Meanwhile, the people universities claim to serve are going out of business. In Cincinnati, Good Plates Eatery — a husband-and-wife restaurant that opened during COVID — just closed after six years. "We are devastated to announce that we have closed our doors. We gave it quite a run and did a lot in six years," the owners wrote on Facebook. Le Bar à Boeuf, another Cincinnati restaurant, announced closure the very next day. A former employee confirmed the reason was financial.

These are the Americans the academy lectures about protecting. They're posting their farewells on social media while USC athletic directors issue statements about "great partnerships" with multibillion-dollar sportswear conglomerates.

Follow the money: USC won't disclose the terms. Nike gets exclusive access to a Big Ten brand for another decade. Select athletes get NIL deals. The university gets to keep operating an athletic department that, by the LA Times's own admission, now treats corporate sponsorship as "essential" to its existence. Essential is a telling word. It means the athletic department can't survive without corporate cash — which raises the question of what exactly the department is for, and who it serves.

This is the deal higher education has made: universities have become corporate platforms that happen to host classes. They lock in secret payouts with global brands, route the money through athletic departments, and raise tuition on the families who can least afford it. The working-class restaurant owner and the working-class student have something in common — neither one is at the table when these deals get done.

The question isn't whether Nike and USC should do business. The question is why a public-facing institution gets to hide the price tag while the people who pay for it go under.