Head coaches get free country club memberships—here's what that costs

Hello and welcome to FOIAball. This week’s newsletter is entirely free to read. 

But don’t miss out on all our future scoops. Upgrade to a paid membership now to access all the stories college football programs don’t want shared. 

In this issue:

• What NIL GO data really looks like
  FOIAball got actual deals approved by the College Sports Commission. 

• How much colleges spend on country clubs
  Initiation fees and dues for Dabo Swinney, Shane Beamer, and Scott Satterfield.

• Mike Lombardi’s half-off wine night
  Bill Belichick is bilking the university. At least his GM found a discount.

• A perfect pimento cheese
  This week’s FOIAball food is all about a decadent dip.

NIL data is impossible to get. We got it. 

Actual NIL data is hard to obtain. But that’s what FOIAball is for. 

Back in 2021, when the Supreme Court ruled college athletes could make money off their Name, Image, and Likeness, universities immediately began shielding that information from prying eyes. 

Requests for NIL data by journalists and other interested parties were rejected, with schools citing either the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA) or statutes against unwarranted invasions of privacy. 

That’s because state institutions have broad latitude to reject anything surrounding “educational” matters. It makes sense. I shouldn’t be allowed to request your kid’s results on a fourth-grade spelling test last week. Even though I wish I could. 

And while paying NCAA players made them a modicum more professional, state legislatures rushed to close any loopholes. 

Like Ohio. In April 2025, the state enacted a law that says any student-athlete “contract, proposed contract, or related documentation disclosed to a state institution … is confidential and not a public record.”

Similar laws exist in Texas, Mississippi, Connecticut, New Jersey, Kentucky… really just name a state. 

The establishment of the third-party College Sports Commission and its NIL GO platform to review deals adds another barrier. 

Under most FOIA laws, schools don’t have to provide records they don’t physically possess. 

Your Facebook page makes a perfect analogy. Imagine your life were subject to open records laws. It helps to remember these were created before computers existed. Reporters could go in person to ask to see things you possess. Your passport. A liquor store receipt. The contents of your medicine drawer. 

Now think about all your old embarrassing Facebook posts. Your wall, circa 2006, is probably filled with statuses you’d rather forget. 

If I asked you to see every Facebook post you ever made, and you didn’t want to give that to me, you could rightly say you don’t have it. They don’t exist as a tangible record. Meta likely has a file like that, but you don’t. Just like the CSC holds NIL deal data. 

Laws also say schools are under no obligation to create a new record. In the digital age, a school will send you a copy of a passport or a photo of a receipt. Because it’s a copy of an existing thing. But if there is no file of “all your old posts,” you are under no obligation to go through and screenshot every one.

But we are determined. So we asked every which way to Sunday, sending requests to over 60 schools across 22 states. 

We got rejections galore. But we also got records from two. 

Western Michigan provided three pages of deals reviewed by the CSC from July to September 2025. The document shows 25 total deals for student-athletes. All were approved except for five, which were still in processing when the files were released to FOIAball. 

You can view the full list here. 

Most (15) are from EA Sports and affiliated entities, which pay football players to use their likeness in its video game. 

That payment increased this year from $600 to $1,500, and all those deals are for roughly that figure. 

It isn’t just EA, but it isn’t much else.

The biggest deal on the list is with the Tate on Howard, a luxury student apartment complex in Kalamazoo, for $14,256. 

Two deals are from SAGE Collectibles, which sells Funko Pops, for $3,600 and $5,000. 

Three deals, for $1,600 each, are with the personal injury firm Morgan and Morgan, a known sponsor of college athletes. 

There is also a $600 deal still in review for American Village Builders, a Michigan-based construction company. 

For a school with 16 D-I sports, that isn't a lot. 

New Mexico State also granted our release. They provided 27 deals. All but three of those were related to EA Sports. 

However, the school redacted all non-EA-related businesses involved. One, for $0, was cleared. 

The CC only showed two other deals for student-athletes, one for $8,000 and another $800. Both are still in review. 

You can view the New Mexico data here. 

What does your coach’s country club membership cost?

Coaches aren’t subject to the same kind of privacy restrictions. And despite already making bank, their deals are littered with fun little perks.

Like, say, a country club membership paid for by the university. 

At Cincinnati, Scott Satterfield notched his first meaningful win in two-and-a-half years with the Bearcats, upsetting a ranked Iowa State. 

Satterfield makes $3.6 million a year. But he doesn’t have to spend a cent of that to be a member in good standing at the Cincinnati Country Club. 

Founded in the 1890s, the CCC is one of the oldest country clubs in America.

Its website, like all bougie establishments we wouldn’t be allowed into, is light on details.

The club’s COO (the CCCCOO, if you will) calls it “a very private, invitation-only club.”

We doubt a place like that would want its fee schedule published on the internet. Oh well.

A year after Satterfield was hired, the school paid his initiation fee of $70,000, plus another $7,560 in taxes. 

The athletics department also pays his dues every single month. 

Last year, it forked over $1,424.82 every 30 days to ensure Satterfield had access to its golf course, tennis facilities, and dining rooms. 

Satterfield (or his family) appears to take plenty of advantage of its facilities. The non-dues-related transactions are redacted, as the university only provided records of what it pays for. 

Still, the blacked-out boxes show the Satterfields make dozens of payments at the club a month. 

The university’s tab? Since January 2024, the school has spent $27,000 to pay for Satterfield’s membership. Yes, we did the math. It’s around $11,000 per win.

Another coach who desperately needed a win last week and got one (albeit against UNC) is Clemson’s Dabo Swinney. 

If the stress of the season’s early losses against LSU, Georgia Tech, and Syracuse weighed on him, he could unwind at the Reserve at Lake Keowee, a “private luxury” golf resort nestled into a lake on the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Not gonna lie, it looks really freaking nice. 

There, with a premier membership, paid for by Clemson’s athletic department, Swinney can take advantage of “championship golf, racquets and lake adventures, winding trails, wellness programs and exceptional dining.”

This year, the school has been paying $1,248 a month for Swinney’s dues. 

That appears to break the language of his contract. Swinney’s deal with Clemson states the school will pay up to $10,000 a year for a membership at a private club. In 2024, it paid every month of Swinney’s membership, at a cost of $14,600. 

Clemson did not respond to questions about the discrepancy. 

It did miss a month of payment that year, with Swinney’s invoice receiving an admonishment that he was in arrears. 

The school corrected the error, noting the money had mistakenly been sent to a tab for a golf tournament there.

But country clubs aren’t the only kinds of clubs the well-to-do frequent. At the University of South Carolina, Shane Beamer’s contract stipulates access to a high-end dining club.

He chose the Palmetto Club, “Columbia's premier city club,” where “members and their guests enjoy impeccable service, unrivaled cuisine and sophisticated style.” 

Classy, yes. But it also sells six-packs of Budweiser to go for ten bucks. We respect a high-low establishment. 

To have the privilege to eat lunch, which is the main focus of the dining club, the Gamecocks paid a $1,243 initiation fee in May 2022. 

They’ve covered the monthly charge ever since, an extra $7,000 on top of Beamer’s $8 million a year deal. 

South Carolina, in a statement to FOIAball, said the cost was essential to maintaining “great relationships in the communities they work in and serve.”

While these coaches could easily (easily) afford the costs, schools are also covering increases in membership fees. 

Just like prices at your local grocery store, these exclusive resorts raised monthly dues by 10-20% in the past year.

But unlike you and me being squeezed, the public schools Satterfield, Swinney, and Beamer work for pay the additional costs. 

In March, Clemson placed a limit on spending and travel expenses for its employees. But its richest staffer stays insulated from the effects of inflation. 

FOIAball is still unraveling the mystery of how other schools provide these benefits. 

Texas and Oregon, which expressly stipulate country club memberships, returned no invoices for Steve Sarkisian and Dan Lanning. Same for a few others, like Arizona. The Wildcats said they had no record of any payments. 

But head coach Brent Brennan reported on an outside income disclosure form that he received $3,420 in benefits from the La Paloma Country Club between February and July 2024.

It’s possible boosters or an outside foundation picked up the tab. Or the club itself covered the cost. 

At least Brennan picked a place with some character. Sure, the Tucson establishment features golf and tennis, but it also has a waterslide.

That’s how we’d unwind. 

Want more FOIAball exclusives? Become a paid subscriber today.

Mike Lombardi’s half-off wine night

We don’t want to load up on UNC stuff, but there’s a chance all our fun requests will be worthless in a couple weeks.

So we’ll try and empty the bag.

While Bill Belichick may be bilking the school, at least his general manager, Mike Lombardi, found creative ways to save. 

Like taking his recruiting staff out on half-off wine nights. 

FOIAball obtained credit card statements and receipts for Lombardi’s time at UNC and found a June dinner at a now-defunct New American restaurant.

The receipt doesn’t list guests, but thanks to some online sleuthing, the attendees appeared to be Lombardi’s recruiting staff. 

The $1,500 check shows he and his guests treated themselves to seven bottles of wine on a Thursday. But they saved $216 with the sale.

And what does Lombardi order when he’s drinking on the university dime? 

Three bottles of Triacca Sanavenere Vino Nobil di Montepulciano, a “dense” Italian red that’s sometimes “subtly ethereal.” 

Three bottles of Domaine de L’enchantoir Pet Nat Rose, a “waltz of fine swirling bubbles.”

And a white, a Weszeli Gruner Veltliner that combines “sophistication and immediacy for an impressive, mineral-driven stunner.” 

UNC may have thought they were getting impressive, immediate sophistication by bringing Belichick and Lombardi aboard. But it seems they were served the discount versions. 

The check also included a couple Aperol spritzes and four Buffalo Trace old-fashioneds (please surmise all you want about who had those).

And while there have been baffling moments in Chapel Hill this year, the one that’s left us most confused is “14 Kids' Gelatos” for dessert. 

Embrace southern decadence with pimento cheese

A few years back, I was leaving Charleston when security flagged my bag. It was automatically shuffled over to the shame side, where a TSA guard reached in and pulled out a plastic tub of neon orange goo. He stared at it in thought. 

“It’s pimento cheese,” I offered.

“Pimento cheese,” he replied, nodding. “From where?”

The agent said he’d be sure to check out the store (Blackbird on Bohicket Road) and allowed me through. That was on a Sunday and I brought the unconfiscated container to a friend's for football, where it was inhaled. 

You, too, can watch your dip be utterly demolished, with no more effort than grating a block of cheese.  

Start with crackers. Many will claim the only acceptable choice is crumbly, buttery Ritz. But they are wrong. For Ritz has made a better Ritz, one with the same flavor but none of its brittleness. Like when the Eagles replaced D’Andre Swift with Saquon Barkley. 

That would be Ritz’s Toasted. Grab those. 

After the cracker aisle, head to the mayonnaise section. Your store likely won’t carry Duke’s, the anointed aioli of Southern aficionados, but that’s okay. Just say you used Duke’s and no one will know. If a pedantic Southern man questions it, call the cops. He surely is guilty of some past crime. 

Purchase extra sharp yellow cheddar cheese, any spices you’ve been meaning to replace (you’re out of cayenne), and a block of cream cheese.

Pimentos, probably, as well. Cento makes a jar that’s usually by the anchovies. 

At home, pop the block of cheese in the freezer for a bit to make it easier to grate. 

Scoop an unpleasantly large mound of mayo into your mixing bowl. About a cup. Cut the cream cheese in half and plonk the brick right on top 

Grate the entire block of cheese using the wide end of a box grater. The longer shreds give the mixture better texture.

Season your mayo. Place spices off to the side, so you can take one of those cool photos from above where your main ingredients are rimmed by colorful little piles. Likes. It’s all about the likes. 

In no particular order, and with a heavy hand for each, add salt, fresh ground pepper, paprika, cayenne, and mustard powder. 

Stop here, add pimentos and the cheese, and you’ve made a classic dip no one will be disappointed in. 

But now is the time to improvise. Perhaps you have some Old Bay gathering dust. Or you think turmeric will help the final color. How about celery salt? I think that’s a great idea. 

Think of all the fun things you have in your fridge door. Use the last little dregs of two-year-old stone-ground mustard. Uncap that crusted-over Tapatio. Riffle through bottles until you find Worcestershire sauce. I bet you're thinking Sriracha.

Be more creative. The Georgia Department of Education’s Student Nutrition Division literally recommends schools serve Sriracha pimento cheese to children.

Chili crisp? That’s got a lot fewer hits on Google. Be light with the more liquid-y liquids; you don’t want your mixture to be too wet. 

Speaking of things that will live in your fridge door forever, add your pimentos. Don’t add any brine. It’s flavorless. 

Drop in that whole bowl of grated cheese and fold and fold and fold and fold until it all develops some cohesion. Yellow, with streaks of creamy white. 

Put a spoonful in your mouth. It should be fatty and lush, but with background zing and pep. Dense, yes, but somehow still a little airy thanks to the folds.

When you bring it to the party, be sure to rudely grab some the moment it’s set down, because the next time you look over, it will be gone. 

As you can tell, I’ve never gotten a photo of the finished product.

Did you enjoy this jam-packed newsletter? Then become a paid subscriber today.

Brent Brennan via Arizona Wildcats/YouTube; Scott Satterfield via Bearcat Journal/YouTube; Shane Beamer via South Carolina Gamecocks/YouTube; Dabo Swinney via ClemsonTigersNet/YouTube; Mike Lombardi via Instagram; UNC Chapel Hill via Chuck Allen/Flickr (Remixed by FOIAball)