Hank's IP Brew — Issue #12

Howdy, y'all.

This week: a college quarterback argues his NIL contract was never really an NIL contract at all — and a pop star files trademark applications on her own voice. Two very different situations, one connecting thread: the label on a contract doesn't always match what the contract actually does.

Let's go.

Texas Tech quarterback Brendan Sorsby is currently on a leave of absence for gambling addiction treatment. While he's away, his lawyers are making an argument that cuts to the heart of how college sports operate.

The NIL contract Sorsby signed with the University of Cincinnati before the 2025 season, his lawyers say, was "actually an employment agreement that provides for payments to Mr. Sorsby for his performance as a quarterback." Not a real NIL deal. A paycheck dressed up in NIL clothing.

Cincinnati disagrees — and is suing him for $1 million.

Here's what happened

Sorsby signed an 18-month contract with Cincinnati before the 2025 season. He was paid $875,000 through it. The contract gave Cincinnati a license to use his name, image, and likeness for promotional purposes — technically the definition of an NIL deal. In December, Sorsby entered the transfer portal. He ended up at Texas Tech, a Big 12 rival. Cincinnati says that breached the contract and triggered a $1 million liquidated damages clause.

Sorsby's response is a motion to dismiss that argues the entire contract should be thrown out. His position: the NIL framing was a legal fiction. The school wasn't paying him because his name, image, and likeness had commercial value. It was paying him because he could throw a football. The NIL label was "the only way the NCAA allows" Cincinnati to pay him "for playing football."

He also argues the $1 million liquidated damages clause is unenforceable under Ohio law — excessive, unreasonable, and more than what he was actually paid.

Why this matters beyond Sorsby

His lawyers are saying out loud what a lot of people in college sports have been saying quietly: many NIL contracts at the revenue-sport level are thinly disguised pay-for-play arrangements. The NCAA prohibits pay-for-play. NIL was supposed to be different — compensation for the commercial use of an athlete's identity, not for athletic performance. In practice, the line between the two has always been blurry.

If a court agrees with Sorsby's framing — that his NIL deal was really an employment contract — the implications ripple outward. Other athletes could make similar arguments. Schools would face new uncertainty about enforcing NIL contracts. The whole framework that holds college sports together (athlete as independent contractor licensing identity, not employee receiving wages) gets a little shakier.

The May 27 hearing before the House settlement administrator will be worth watching. This is one of several legal pressure points that could reshape what NIL actually means.

What athletes should take from this

Sorsby's situation is a cautionary tale in both directions. He signed a contract that he now argues was illegal — but he still has to litigate his way out of it, while dealing with everything else going on in his life. The legal argument may be right. It is still expensive to make.

Before you sign an NIL deal — especially one with a liquidated damages clause — understand exactly what it says and what it obligates you to. "NIL contract" is not a category with consistent legal meaning. It is whatever the document says it is. Get it reviewed. Know what triggers the penalty. Know how much it is.

On April 24, Taylor Swift's company filed three trademark applications with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office. Two cover her voice — specifically, audio clips of her saying "Hey, it's Taylor Swift" and "Hey, it's Taylor." The third covers a specific photograph of her performing.

She's not the first. Matthew McConaughey did something similar in 2025, securing trademarks including a sound mark on "Alright, alright, alright." The legal strategy is the same in both cases: use trademark law as an additional weapon against AI-generated fakes and unauthorized uses of identity.

Why trademark, and why now

Copyright protects specific recordings. If someone takes Taylor Swift's actual voice recording and uses it without permission, that's copyright infringement. But AI doesn't copy recordings — it learns from them and generates new output. An AI clone of Taylor Swift's voice doesn't copy any specific file. It reproduces a pattern, a style, a cadence. Copyright law, as currently written, doesn't cleanly reach that.

Trademark law works differently. A trademark protects a source identifier — something that tells consumers where a product or service comes from. If Taylor Swift's voice is a registered trademark, then an AI-generated audio clip that uses a voice indistinguishable from hers could be framed as trademark infringement: it's passing off fake content as if it came from her.

This is a new theory. Historically, trademarks weren't designed to protect general likeness, voice, or persona. But the courts haven't fully resolved how trademark applies to AI-generated impersonation, and right now there's no federal deepfake law that closes the gap. Registering your voice or likeness as a trademark is a way to get in front of that uncertainty.

What this means if you're not Taylor Swift

Most creators don't have a voice distinctive enough to register as a trademark. But the underlying principle applies more broadly than you might think.

If you have a signature phrase — something your audience associates specifically with you — it may be registrable. If you have a distinctive on-screen persona, a recurring visual style, or a name that functions as a brand, those elements have trademark potential. The question is whether they serve as source identifiers: do your audience and potential customers associate them specifically with you?

AI impersonation isn't a celebrity problem anymore. As voice cloning and image generation get cheaper and easier, the risk moves downstream. A creator with 50,000 followers is a reachable target for a scammer running fake sponsorship content or a competitor cloning their style. The legal tools available to fight that are still underdeveloped — but building a trademark portfolio around your identity is one of the most concrete steps you can take right now.

Swift's filing also follows the playbook of building multiple overlapping protections. Copyright on your content. Trademark on your identity elements. Right-of-publicity claims where state law supports them. None of these alone is a complete answer. Together, they create a harder target.

The practical first step

You don't need to file a voice trademark today. What you should do is audit what you have: What phrases, visuals, or identity elements are distinctively yours? Which of those are you actively using in commerce? That's the starting point for a trademark conversation. Everything else builds from there.

See you next time,

Hank

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About Hank's IP Brew

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