The Real Reason Brendan Sorsby Won't Play This Year, and Why It Matters More Than Anyone's Letting On

The NFL's eligibility rules have always been a patchwork of precedent, interpretation, and selective enforcement. We saw this play out most recently with Brendan Sorsby, the quarterback who was denied the opportunity to play in the 2024 season despite being drafted by the Indianapolis Colts in April. The official explanation involves redshirt status and the arcane regulations governing when a player can debut after being drafted. But if you're only reading that version of the story, you're missing the substantive legal and business questions that the league refuses to address directly.

Let's start with what actually happened, because the surface narrative doesn't hold up under scrutiny. Sorsby played at Miami of Ohio, a non-Power Five program that receives far less national attention than the flagship state schools and elite private universities that dominate draft coverage. When he was selected in the third round, the Colts presumably conducted the standard due diligence that professional scouts engage in before committing draft capital to any prospect. The problem emerged when the league's eligibility office determined that Sorsby's prior redshirt season created a complication under the current CBA and league rules.

Here's where it gets interesting from a legal standpoint. The eligibility determination wasn't made by a neutral arbiter or by the Colts in consultation with league officials before the draft. Instead, it came down as a mandate after the fact, essentially forcing the Colts to operate with a diminished roster asset for an entire season. The team had invested real capital in draft position to acquire Sorsby, negotiated what they believed would be his entry into their system, and then discovered the league was going to restrict his participation. This is the kind of scenario that creates leverage disputes and raises questions about whether the league has clearly communicated its rules to all stakeholders.

The CBA is supposed to be the governing document here, but the problem is that eligibility rules often rely on NCAA determinations that predate a player's entry into professional football. When a player redshirts in college, that status carries implications for his eligibility clock. The league's position is that Sorsby exhausted his collegiate eligibility before actually playing his final season, which means he's treated differently than players who used their redshirt year in a traditional sense. This interpretation may be legally sound, but it raises a fairness question about disclosure and advance notice.

Why should the Colts have been blindsided by this determination if it was obvious enough to apply? The answer is that the league's eligibility office doesn't always provide exhaustive pre-draft guidance to teams about every possible complication. Teams are expected to do their own homework, but the responsibility for interpreting complex CBA language shouldn't fall entirely on front offices. When a team invests a third-round pick based on incomplete information about eligibility status, that's a failure of league administration, not a failure of scouting.

This brings us to the broader principle at stake. The NFL operates under a cartel structure that gives the league considerable power to make unilateral determinations about player eligibility and participation rights. The players' union negotiated certain protections in the CBA, but those protections don't necessarily cover every edge case. Sorsby isn't exactly in a position to challenge the ruling because he's a young player trying to establish his career within the system. Fighting the league would be terrible for his brand and his relationship with the Colts. So instead, he sits out and waits.

The practical impact on the Colts is real and measurable. They used a third-round pick on a quarterback they can't use this season. That's a sunk cost that affects their salary cap accounting, their roster construction, and their ability to compete. The pick could have been used on a player with immediate availability. Whether or not you think Sorsby had legitimate complaint, the Colts were materially harmed by the lack of clarity from the league office. This matters because it exposes a gap in how the league manages information flow to its teams.

There's also a competitive equity question buried in this situation. Teams with robust legal and compliance departments are more likely to catch these issues before they become problems. Large market franchises with well-staffed front offices can absorb the cost of a delayed player. Smaller market teams that operate with leaner operations might find themselves in a worse position if they make the same assumption about eligibility. The league's rules should be clear enough that teams of any size can understand their implications.

Let's also consider what this says about the draft process itself. Teams are asked to make enormous financial commitments based on incomplete information and administrative processes that aren't fully transparent. The league collects hundreds of millions of dollars from broadcasting and licensing, yet the eligibility determination process apparently doesn't include a proactive outreach to teams about edge cases and complications. If the Colts are smart, they're reviewing every aspect of Sorsby's background and status before the 2025 draft to make sure they don't get caught in a similar situation.

The precedent aspect is important too. Once the league establishes that certain redshirt scenarios disqualify a player from immediate participation, that interpretation becomes binding going forward. Other players with similar backgrounds could face the same restrictions. If the league was going to apply this rule, teams deserved to know it before April. The fact that Sorsby became the test case suggests the eligibility office wasn't universally communicating these restrictions to front offices in advance of the draft.

Sorsby himself is in a difficult position. He's a capable quarterback from a small college program who had to prove himself throughout the draft process. Now he has to prove himself while sitting out an entire season, watching the Colts' offense operate without him, and trying to maintain his confidence and readiness for whenever he's finally permitted to play. The competitive disadvantage here is substantial. A quarterback needs game reps. He needs to feel the speed of the professional game, work through progressions against NFL defenses, and build chemistry with receivers and linemen. Sorsby gets none of that this year.

From a union perspective, this should be a matter worth discussing in future CBA negotiations. The players' association should push for greater clarity around eligibility determinations and for processes that ensure teams and players receive advance notice about potential complications. The current system allows the league to make determinations that materially affect the economic value of a player's contract, and there's limited recourse available to challenge those determinations.

The business structure of professional football gives the league enormous unilateral power. The draft rules, eligibility standards, and administrative procedures are largely established by the league with union input, but the union's leverage is limited compared to what players have on other issues. If a significant portion of draft picks faced eligibility delays, you'd see immediate industry outcry. But when it happens to one player, particularly one from a non-prominent program, the story gets buried under draft grades and mock draft analysis.

Brendan Sorsby's situation is ultimately a symptom of a larger problem in how the NFL administers its rules and communicates with teams. The technical eligibility determination might be defensible on its merits, but the lack of transparency and advance notice is indefensible. The Colts deserved better. Sorsby deserved better. And until the league commits to clearly publishing its eligibility standards and providing timely guidance to franchises, we'll continue to see situations where competent scouts and capable young players get caught in administrative snafus.

The real story here isn't about one quarterback who can't play this season. It's about a league that collects billions of dollars in revenue while maintaining opaque processes that affect the careers and earning potential of players and the capital allocation decisions of franchises. Until that changes, don't expect this to be the last time we hear about an eligibility dispute that nobody saw coming.