Traditional environmental assessments of sport events overwhelmingly focus on what is measurable and controllable: stadium operations, energy usage, waste, and water. This is where data is easiest to collect, and event organisers retain direct influence. However, McCullough and Cooper’s (2021) findings challenge this narrow view. Their study showed that Scope 3 emissions — especially fan and team travel — constitute nearly 80% of March Madness’s environmental impact.

This highlights a profound methodological blind spot. As long as assessments remain stadium-centric, organisations will continue to overlook the greatest sources of carbon emissions. A game hosted in a LEED-certified venue still generates extensive emissions if fans travel thousands of miles to attend.

Example: In the 2019 tournament, teams from the Northeast U.S. travelled to California in the early rounds despite the “regional” site naming. The label was symbolic—the logistics were not. Sustainability efforts will fall short until assessments shift focus from the facility to the fan journey.

The structural design of March Madness reinforces unsustainable practices. Unlike tournaments with single-location finals, March Madness disperses teams across multiple host cities for three weeks. Although the event is marketed as “regionally organised,” in practice, team placement often ignores geographic proximity, increasing travel distances for athletes and spectators alike.

Until recently, the women's tournament adopted a more regionally grounded format—higher-seeded teams hosted early rounds. This not only reduced travel but fostered stronger local support. As the women's tournament expands and aligns with the neutral-site model of the men's game, there is a real risk of repeating the environmental inefficiencies of the men's format.

Example: During the 2019 tournament, assumptions based on team ticket allocations suggested fans were often travelling more than 1,000 miles to attend early-round games. This sharply contrasts with practices in sports like European football, where local or regional match-ups in early rounds are commonplace to reduce logistical costs and environmental strain.

Efforts to regionalise tournaments face a significant barrier: commercial logic (McCullough & Bramley, in press). Broadcasters want high-stakes matchups, even if that means flying teams cross-country. Upsets and unpredictable draws fuel excitement and drive ratings. Meanwhile, sponsors seek national exposure, and larger neutral venues generate higher ticket revenues than campus arenas.

In this context, sustainability remains a secondary concern, often subordinated to viewership, profit, and brand positioning. Changing the site-selection model to prioritise carbon reduction may reduce fan travel. Still, it could also undermine these commercial objectives — unless governing bodies commit to long-term structural reform and values-based decision-making.

Example: Despite growing concern about environmental costs, current NCAA host-city bid requirements prioritise hotel capacity and airport access — not carbon emissions or public transport availability. Integrating sustainability credentials would represent a paradigm shift that may challenge existing power dynamics among media partners, sponsors, and rights holders.

Women's sport present a unique window of opportunity. As the NCAA Women’s Tournament gains visibility and expands, organisers can proactively embed sustainability principles before entrenched patterns form. Early signs are promising: smaller venues and more regionally based competition have naturally led to lower emissions.

However, the risk of convergence looms. As women’s tournaments scale up, there’s a temptation to replicate the men’s model — neutral sites, national-scale travel, and media-driven scheduling. The challenge is to learn from past mistakes and position women’s sport as a proving ground for green innovation.

Example: A combined Final Four venue for men's and women's tournaments — staggered by one week — could allow infrastructure efficiencies, reducing the need for multiple large-scale temporary builds. Similarly, a revised bracket design that keeps early rounds more localised could preserve competitiveness while cutting emissions.

Change begins with what we choose to measure. Without reliable data on fan travel, on-site behaviour, or hotel-related emissions, sustainability discussions are reduced to guesswork. McCullough argues that if we treat environmental impact the way we treat economic impact — with robust, context-sensitive accounting — we can develop fairer, more actionable standards.

Equally important is the question of thresholds: what is an ‘acceptable’ level of impact for a sport event? This is not just a scientific question but a moral and governance challenge. Do we sacrifice the fan experience for lower emissions? Who decides the trade-offs: organisers, fans, sponsors, or regulators?

Example: Paris 2024 and Forest Green Rovers illustrate how leadership and data can drive innovation. From ISO 20121 compliance to vegan concessions, these cases show how sustainability can be embedded in culture and operations — but only when decision-makers see environmental action as core business, not a fringe concern.