For a team to succeed in college athletics, you need a quality coach, top-of-the-line facilities and, at least these days, a new asset: a five-star local judge.

On Friday alone, judges will decide if Alabama basketball can continue playing a 7-footer who spent 2½ seasons, including games last month, in the G League and whether Tennessee football next season will have a 25-year-old quarterback who first enrolled in junior college back in 2019.

The rulings, from courthouses in Tuscaloosa and Knoxville, respectively, are likely to be a “yes,” in part because the NCAA has allowed plenty of inconsistencies in eligibility rulings that allowed precedents to be set.

As for judicial home cooking, that’s anyone’s guess — there’s no truth to rumors that one ruling will be stamped “Roll Tide,” or that the other court plays “Rocky Top” before closing arguments.

The issue for college athletics, as aggressive plaintiff lawyers and coaches desperate to keep up use local courts to blow through once agreed upon statutes, is that this tidal wave is just getting started.

And the NCAA seems to have no plan to stop it.

By not controlling who is or isn’t eligible to play, the NCAA is quickly losing the ability to function as an organizing athletic body. This is far more important than, say, NIL compensation, where well-meaning arguments on all sides exist. This is basic stuff.

You can’t play U8 soccer if you’re 10. You can’t be on a city team in the Little League World Series if your players hail from three states over. You can’t play high school sports if you already graduated. You can’t get drafted into the NFL until three years after high school.

This is no longer about establishing guardrails for college sports. It’s about having an actual road on which to establish the guardrails.

The trend is to get a local judge to offer an injunction that allows a player eligibility, even in violation of clear NCAA rules. The player then competes through the season before dropping the case before it’s even heard.

If that holds, then college football in August will be about grabbing any player with even the slightest argument for eligibility who just got cut from NFL training camps.

Come make seven figures in college ball rather than sit on a practice squad … where maxed-out pay for rookies is $235,000 a year. Come play for us until injuries force an NFL team to bring someone in.

A constantly revolving door between NCAA rosters and the pros, with college coaches mining the NFL waiver wire, sounds far-fetched. A guy playing G League ball one Saturday and SEC ball the next once sounded crazy, too, until Alabama’s Charles Bediako made it a reality last month.

Each new absurd eligibility ruling — junior college years don’t count, being drafted isn’t the same as being in the league, it’s just summer league — begets the next even more absurd ruling. Schools now look to exploit the rules they once wrote because if they don’t, the other guy will.

The NCAA spent decades and millions of dollars on a failed legal strategy to preserve “amateurism.” It was beaten in the Supreme Court, 9-zip.

The past half dozen or so years, it has spent millions more seeking a federal legislative solution. The NCAA hasn’t even gotten a bill to the floor for a vote.

And it won’t any time soon, either, at least not the broad reform it wants. Not only can few people agree on what is needed, their opinions keep changing. Even once hardcore advocate Dabo Swinney, the Clemson football coach, now wonders if the answer is granting athletes employee status and collectively bargaining with them.

Asking Washington to save college sports was always a long shot pursuit. Politicians are about politics, not problem-solving. Consider Texas Sen. Ted Cruz’s comment to ESPN’s Dan Murphy last week about employee status and possible union membership for athletes.

“From a political perspective, you have labor union bosses that would love to see every college athlete deemed an employee, made a member of a union and contributing union dues to elect Democrats,” Cruz said.

Cruz is saying the quiet part out loud, namely that Democrats might favor this solution so there are 100,000 new union members whose dues might eventually bolster their elections, which is also why Republicans might oppose it. The merits of the argument, one way or the other, are secondary.

Don’t blame Cruz. This is how a politician probably should think. But it doesn’t help college sports.

The NCAA needs a skinny bill that sets clear eligibility standards — five years starting after your high school graduation, voided if you declare yourself for the pros. No carve outs. No exemptions. No granting an extra year because of some heartrending story — illness or injury doesn’t get you more high school eligibility.

The NCAA needs to present that simple, common sense, bipartisan request to Congress that can’t get bogged down in politics. It should lean on the NFL, NBA and other pro leagues, which have considerable lobbying muscle, to get the bill passed.

The NFL, for example, doesn’t want to have its practice squad offers subject to counterbids from desperate college teams.

“There’s obviously a lot of change going on and a lot of disruption, and they do need to bring some clarity to that,” NFL commissioner Roger Goodell said this week. “If for some reason we could be helpful with the right people, we would obviously be willing to engage with anybody.

“But I think we try to stay in our lane unless we’re invited in to be part of the solution.”

NCAA president Charlie Baker should extend that invitation immediately.

There are other solutions, say, having the NCAA incorporate to limit legal jurisdictions, creating new rules with severe consequences for schools who play questionable eligibility cases and so on.

The skinny bill is perhaps the simplest way, though, to force a yes or no decision.

If not, these eligibility cases — and the value of those five-star judges — will only continue to grow in importance.