As the onset of BYU’s 2025 football season approaches, the hottest sports ticket in Utah is … what’s this, a decent seat in the Marriott Center for Cougar men’s basketball games?

Somewhere Kresimir Cosic is grinning.

BYU basketball is all the rage these days, and the season is still more than two months away. The Cougars’ first home game doesn’t arrive until the second week of November. And yet, season tickets for games in that rather spacious building have sold out. Getting a preferred seat, ironically enough, could’ve emptied a family’s future college fund for their kids.

But, as Bear Bryant so famously said all those years ago, “It’s kinda hard to rally around a math class.”

The only thing hard about rallying around BYU hoops in the season’s run-up is that cash required to land those season tickets.

Expectations for the season directly ahead are — What the dickens? — great, maybe even stupidly excessive. That’s what happens when some so-called experts predict that the Cougars are bound for the Final Four.

This chase for seats isn’t a wholly new phenomenon at Brigham Kevin Young University. The Cougars made the Sweet Sixteen last year, with the addition of NBA talent suggesting more now.

The upward swing commenced even before Young left the Phoenix Suns bench to come to Provo, back before the Cougars’ first season in the Big 12, when, not unlike the football situation at LaVell Edwards Stadium, seats long held by certain BYU fans were shifted around, here, there, everywhere. And fans who donated more green happened to be more likely to find themselves entitled in the Marriott Center to not just enjoy the privilege of slapping down even more green on the barrel, but to end up with the gift of advantageous seats from which the action on the court could actually be observed without the use of Nikon 10X25 Trailblazer ATB binoculars.

Fans who wanted basketball season tickets back in 2023, no matter where they’d been sitting for games in the past or whether they’d sat there at all, were asked to increase their donations in order to increase their chances of getting “priority points” that then would be totaled up and, in theory, could lead to better seats. With a few exceptions for “facility donors,” who were promised seats for themselves and two generations beyond by way of their donations bequeathed years ago, it was like asking loyalists to pay their however many thousands of dollars, don a blindfold and chase a chicken — “Get the chicken, Rocky! Get the chicken!” — that was clucking around out in the yard somewhere, and hope for the best. There were no guarantees.

(John Leyba | AP) BYU head coach Kevin Young, top right, celebrates as time runs out in the second half against Wisconsin in the second round of the NCAA college basketball tournament Saturday, March 22, 2025, in Denver.

Cougar Club members are “ranked” on a shifting scale from Legacy 1 to Legacy 6, based on the amount of money they contribute, and are given preferred seating, in part, according to those designations. Legacy 1 members donate a one-time gift of $10,000, Legacy 2 give $25,000, Legacy 3 offer $50,000, Legacy 4 pay out $100,000, Legacy 5 cough up $250,000, Legacy 6 dump in $500,000. Beyond that is what’s known as the AD Circle, a select group each of whom donates $1 million. Where much is given, much is expected, namely, the right to buy more, better season tickets.

To maintain that status and those standings, fans must donate additional annual cash, not unlike country club fees. And none of that includes the price for the tickets themselves, which runs into the thousands.

One booster told me, “They’re swimming in cash down here.”

On BYU’s sports website, it lists BYU basketball tickets available for various amounts of money, but for ultra-premium seats on the floor, it cryptically reads: “Call Cougar Club.” It’s the hoops equivalent of ordering lobster off the menu at a three-star restaurant and seeing: “market price.”

If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.

It’s a fact of life in modern major college sports that, even — especially? — at BYU, some true-blue Cougar fans have been priced out, and remain priced out. The school’s explanation: To stay competitive, money to athletes must be paid, with NIL money stacked in addition to that. Casualties are those who have loved and still love BYU sports, but can’t scratch up what’s necessary to buy worthwhile tickets to the games. Conversely, some fans — those with deep pockets — are, as one eager fan puts it, “willing to pay whatever helps BYU have great teams. I’m OK with what it costs.”

That fan, a corporate executive, paid $50 grand previously and then $50 grand more prior to this season to become a Legacy 4 Cougar Clubber. Last season, he had six season tickets on Row 22 at the Marriott, near mid-court. Although he paid the extra $50 large this time around, his seats were shifted from mid-court to the corner on the same row. Which is to say, he paid the extra $50,000 for the chance to land worse seats.

It’s a matter of small and large, of supply and demand.

On top of that, he paid $1,225 for each of his six season tickets. Not bad, really, if it stood alone. As mentioned, it does not. Moreover, last season, games BYU played at the Delta Center were included in the package. This year, those pre-league games — against North Carolina, Wisconsin, Cal Baptist — are not included.

On BYU’s site, there’s an FAQ section that asks a specific question and answers it with three bullet points: “Why is BYU basketball re-seating?”

“The re-seating process allows us to:

— ensure our most committed supporters have access to priority seating

— continue providing critical resources to fuel our momentum on and off the court

— offer a transparent and fair selection experience for all Cougar fans.”

Translation:

— nobody said life is fair, even if you’re a lifelong Latter-day Saint, say your daily prayers, sing Rise and Shout to lull yourself to sleep every night and pay your annual tithing, it doesn’t matter because our richest fans who give us the most get the best seats, comprende?

— we need the money to pay our coaches and players zillions of dollars

— love you, dawg, but it’s not our problem if you’re priced out.

Bottom line here is this cruel bit of capitalism: Weeks ago, BYU sold its entire allotment of basketball season tickets. It had more demand for season tickets than it had season tickets to sell.

(BYU does deserve credit for dedicating to its student section — the ROC — more than 6,000 seats for home games at a discounted price of around $200. A smart move considering the pro-BYU noise and mayhem those students create.)

(Tyler Tate | AP) Anicet “AJ” Dybantsa Jr., the number one player in the 2025 class and BYU commit, stands with the fans during the second half of an NCAA basketball game between BYU and West Virginia Saturday, March 1, 2025, in Provo, Utah.

All of which proves another very significant rule of economics: If you hire Kevin Young, and then plow up the means to sign AJ Dybantsa, Rob Wright, Kennard Davis, Dominique Diomande, Xavion Staton, a bunch of other highly-sought-after recruits and transfers with serious designs on eventually turning pro, and then retain Richie Saunders, too, paying each of them the going rate, your ROI will explode, in the best possible way.

There’s one big but hanging out there that’s equally explosive, in the worst way.

But … because those filled seats have exacted their tolls, have taken away kids’ college funds or investment goods, because those expectations are voracious, BYU had better win, had better win big.

Indeed. Where much is forced to be given, much is expected back.