We lied - it's not about education: a rant about college athletics

Earlier this month, the New York Times ran a story on the cover of the Sunday Sports section about Keith Frazier, a star college basketball player at Southern Methodist University until an academic scandal got SMU banned from the postseason and Frazier dropped out. It's not a new story; the uncertainty of the term "student" in "student-athlete" has been analyzed to death. Indeed, it was the topic of a 1983 episode of The Facts of Life, which, in my very first crossover post, I've just recapped in my other blog.

I am not sure if it is still commonly believed that high school and college athletics are clean and honest, or if "everyone" is aware of the collusion that goes on so that athletes move through the educational system without getting an actual education. 

Of course, the discussion of the tension between college athletics and academics shows up mostly with respect to men's football and basketball. I refuse to use the term “revenue-generating sports,” because the idea that such sports generate sufficient revenue to sustain both the university in general and other – usually women's – sports, is a myth. Studies attempting to find correlations between athletic success and donations have been inconsistent, and one 2012 study suggests that even if a successful athletic team does spike giving, such an increase only affects the athletic department itself.

Of course, college sports programs have a value to a university beyond the bottom line; I've met many students who want "the complete college experience," which for them includes tailgates and football games. I recruited for a major public university for 10 years, and I understand that athletic programs are crucial in recruiting a certain type of student.

And I like sports. I like sports a lot. You'll find me spending a good amount of my spare time being a spectator, and not just for my favorite non-American flavors: rugby and soccer. Sundays during the NFL season are booked in perpetuity. Baseball games are constantly on in the background while we barbecue during the summer, and I'll bandwagon when the Avs or Blackhawks are doing well. Basketball's not my thing, but I respect it.

So yes, I like sports a whole lot, but I can't tell you the last time I watched and/or cared about a college game. I just can't watch them anymore, because as I watch, I can't stop thinking about how utterly screwed a good number of these children I'm watching are. College sports can exist without gutting the futures of the athletes.

These kids – mostly black, largely poor – are sold a lie. They’re promised that their athletic prowess will guarantee them success, and their education is only relevant to the extent that it facilitates their athletic career. Your grades are only a problem if they affect your eligibility (and that’s a pretty low bar). And if they do, we’ll help you make sure they don’t. And this is just at the high school level.

At the college admissions stage, admissions offices can put up a roadblock, but if the athletic department really, really, really wants a particular kid, roadblocks can be bypassed. Keith Frazier is an example, but he’s not exceptional.

Every single one of those kids who gets recruited by a college to play, academics be damned, expects to play on the big, professional stage. But less than two percent of college athletes go on to play professionally. When the athletic departments are trying to get their wins on the table, it doesn’t matter to them that Tyson the defensive back is never going to get into the NFL. They need him, and therefore he can’t waste time writing this silly philosophy paper.

“But without athletic scholarships, these kids might not go to college at all!” That’s true, and I seriously appreciate the theory of athletic scholarships as a means to a college education. But what has happened is that an athletic scholarship has become a replacement for a college education, to the extent that a student-athlete is an athlete first, and a student second, if at all.

And that’s fine. Let’s just stop lying about it.