KC Smurthwaite is a consultant for Athletics Admin, specializing in revenue generation in sports. He has almost two decades of experience in the sports and entertainment industry. He also teaches sports management and journalism as an adjunct professor. Follow him on Twitter @KcSmurthwaite or reach him at [email protected]
LAKE CHARLES, La – Somedays, when Heath Schroyer wakes up before sunrise, he still thinks—if only for a moment—that it’s time to go work at the dairy farm.
That was his childhood. That was Maryland. That was a life built on milking cows twice a day, no matter the weather, no matter the calendar.
Christmas morning? Presents waited until the work was done.
“There were absolutely no off-days,” Schroyer said. “You show up, roll your sleeves up, and get to work. It’s the same concept here. We work now to reap the rewards later.”
Now, Schroyer’s “farm” looks a little different. He’s cultivating something else entirely—NIL dollars, institutional trust, donor relationships, and athletic momentum. As the Vice President and Director of Athletics at McNeese State, Schroyer is leading one of the most remarkable rebuilds in college sports. And in an era where the rules of the game are shifting—where the role of an athletic director is morphing into CEO, fundraiser, and legislative liaison—Schroyer and McNeese State might just be ahead of the curve.
And yet, ironically, his background is something that college athletics brushes off today.
Schroyer is a former Division I basketball coach. Twenty-five years ago, that was common in athletic director chairs. Today? He’s an outlier. However, with the pressures of NIL, revenue generation, and realignment transforming the job once again, perhaps it’s time to reconsider the coach-turned-AD model.
Because at McNeese, it’s working.
From Cows to Cowboys
Schroyer doesn’t tell his story for sympathy. He tells it for full context.
Growing up on a dairy farm in Walkersville, Maryland, taught him everything he needed to know about leadership: accountability, consistency, and showing up when it’s hard. He was a first-generation college student who earned a basketball scholarship, played at powerhouse DeMatha High School under legendary coach Morgan Wootten, and eventually parlayed his court career into 26 years of coaching—12 as a head coach and assistant coaching stops at places like BYU, UNLV, and NC State.
He coached All-Americans, won Coach of the Year honors, and helped dozens of players earn professional contracts. But the transition from coach to administrator wasn’t a pivot. It was a natural progression.
“I’ve never worked in an ivory tower and I don’t want to,” Schroyer said. “Whether it’s visiting the training room after a game or spending a day with donors, I roll my sleeves up. That’s what I’ve always done.”
That mentality was put to the test in 2020—two months after he was officially named AD—when Hurricane Laura slammed into Lake Charles, Louisiana. A second hurricane followed weeks later. Then a flood. Then a global pandemic.
“Every single facility we had was devastated,” Schroyer recalled. “No power. No water. And I got in front of a camera and said, ‘Not only will McNeese be back—we’ll be back better.’”
That promise wasn’t empty.
In the five years since the disasters, McNeese has raised more than $25 million for facility upgrades and construction. Schroyer helped secure funding for a new $32 million football press box, a $4 million baseball complex, and multi-million-dollar locker room and weight room renovations across the board. The school signed its first all-sports deal with Under Armour and now is a national brand.
And through it all, McNeese has won 16 conference championships since 2020. Men’s basketball, under Will Wade, went 30-4 this past season with sellout crowds and a win over Michigan. Softball reached three straight NCAA Regionals. Attendance has surged across multiple sports.
The NIL Architect
The more impressive part? McNeese is doing it all while competing in the FCS and operating in a state and region dominated by SEC-level programs.
That’s where Schroyer’s new playbook comes in—build around NIL.
“Three or five years ago, I would’ve been selling a locker room or something else,” Schroyer said. “Now? I’m selling NIL.”
McNeese currently ranks among the top FCS schools in NIL revenue, raising “a couple million” annually through a revenue-sharing model that Schroyer himself helped structure. His approach has some flash, charisma… mixed with a dairy farmer mentality.
“I connect NIL to economic development,” he said. “Better NIL, or even by extension, money means better players. Better players mean better teams. Better teams mean a stronger university brand, which drives enrollment and impacts the entire region economically.”
He was also quick to note that this drives university funding through grants, which helps attract better professors and, in turn, allows the university to become more selective in its admissions process—ultimately boosting its academic reputation.
Schroyer doesn’t just pitch this vision to boosters. He walks into legislative offices in Baton Rouge and fights for capital campaign funding. He integrates athletic development with the university foundation, creating shared CRMs and unified messaging.
He’s not just rebuilding McNeese’s athletic department—he’s helping rebuild Southwest Louisiana.
The Coach’s Advantage
Schroyer isn’t the only former coach turned AD. But in a landscape of athletic directors with backgrounds in external affairs, fundraising, or business administration, his profile is increasingly rare. Yet his results speak loudly.
“Everything we do is people-driven,” he said. “And when you’re a coach, you understand people. You understand how to motivate, how to recruit, how to tell a story.”
That experience is now crucial in an era where ADs are more front-facing than ever—fundraising, appearing on podcasts, selling vision, cultivating major donors, lobbying lawmakers, managing talent, all while trying to win games.
And that, Schroyer says, is why his time on the court matters. It wasn’t just about Xs and Os. It was about culture.
“You’ll never find another AD more committed to winning than me,” he said. “Because for 25 years, that’s all I tried to do. I am still trying to do it just with more than one team now.”
Human First
Of course, there’s more to Schroyer than NIL spreadsheets and press box blueprints. He’s a health nut who hasn’t had a slice of regular bread in years. He reads constantly, takes long walks in the sun, and would ditch work in a heartbeat for a day of offshore fishing 60 miles into the Gulf.
And maybe that’s why people connect with him. He understands the athletes who are first-generation college students. He understands hard days. He understands coaches. He understands the importance of showing up when things break down—because he has lived it, first on the farm, then in the rubble of hurricanes.
“I wouldn’t trade how I was raised for anything,” he said. “That background built me. It gave me discipline, structure, and grit. I bring those into this job every day.”
A New Blueprint
Schroyer knows success isn’t just about athletics — it’s a campus-wide effort.
“I’m extremely grateful for President Dr. Wade Rousse,” he said. “We work hand in hand with a shared vision, and I appreciate that he lets me be myself. I’m high-energy and like to try new things, and it’s comforting to know we have the kind of relationship where we know and trust each other. That mutual trust allows us to move quickly, take smart risks, and stay aligned in our goals.”
It also helps that McNeese State has seen back-to-back increases in enrollment after 15 consecutive years of decline. This fall’s incoming freshman class is projected to be the largest in nearly two decades—another signal that, as athletics has grown under Schroyer, the rising tide is indeed lifting all boats.
Schroyer’s success at McNeese isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But it’s a compelling case study for the evolving nature of athletic leadership.
In many ways, college sports have swung toward corporate models—CEOs over coaches, MBAs over mentors. But maybe it’s time for a swing back?
Because if winning still matters—and Schroyer insists it does—then maybe the people who’ve lived and breathed competition for decades are still best suited to lead.
Heath Schroyer doesn’t want the spotlight. He just wants to go to work.
The cows needed him every day. McNeese does, too.
