After sharing the story of my niece's experience at Athletic U., I thought I'd dredge up another one.
About ten years ago, a neighbor family who used to live down the street from us had a son--I'll call him Mike--who was CIF All-State First Team offensive lineman. We were good friends who followed and cheered for him, and we were excited when he decided to pass on the many scholarship offers he'd received, and instead opted to leverage his football talent to gain access to an Ivy League education. "Mike" was no muscle-head in the classroom, but neither was he Ivy League material based on his scholastic merits only.
Sadly, his first year at "Ivy College" was a disaster. He was third string on the team, dealing with injuries during his freshman season, during which he failed a class, got a D in another, and had to struggle during the Spring term to get his grades up in time to be eligible to play in the Fall.
Not too surprising a story so far. I'm sure it happens a lot, even at schools not known for being collegiate football power houses. And I'm fairly sure his academic struggle wasn't strictly confined to the rigorous curriculum or the competitive student-body. College -- even at a sedate Ivy -- can supply enough distractions outside of the classroom even for non-athletes, that can affect that first year away from home.
What happened next ought not be typical (I hope), especially for an institution of the academic caliber of an Ivy League.
At the end of the Spring semester, he and his mom approached the head coach and director of player personnel to propose that Mike take a red shirt during his sophomore year to help adjust to the rigors of Ivy College's classroom. Mike had managed to bring his GPA up to a 2.3 so he was eligible to play; but he felt he was still treading water, and knew that the demands of football could likely put him back into a similar situation as he'd faced his first year.
The athletic staff was not supportive of that idea. They recommended a change of major, transferring from the School of Engineering. He had declared his major field of study to be Environmental Engineering, but his athletic department counselors offered a handful of suggestions they felt would be less demanding. The practical fact of the matter, as far as football was concerned, was that the offensive line depth was thin and they couldn't afford, from a team roster perspective, to give him up, even though he was still projected to be mostly a bench player.
Ultimately, the athletic department rejected the red shirt proposal. Mike, for his part, agreed to alter his curriculum, and he switched to the College of Arts & Sciences. (I can't remember his new choice of degree, or if it was one that was suggested for him.) That Fall, he rode the pine, mostly, getting the occasional playing time for his efforts, but suffered a back injury during the latter half of the season. And despite the change in major to an "easier" curriculum, he was still hovering in the 2.3 range.
Ivy College just wasn't turning out as he'd hoped. Missing San Diego, suffering through bleak New England winters, and just scratching through an academic nightmare in a field he wasn't even particularly interested in, he found himself doubting the decision that at one time had been hailed as a smart and wise one. He was feeling beat up, physically and academically.
Since he was not on athletic scholarship (Ivy League schools don't provide athletic scholarships) and paying his own way anyway, he realized he didn't need to be a football player in order to stay at Ivy College. Football had gotten him in, but continuing enrollment wasn't contingent on any commitment to football. He knew he'd lose some benefits, like access to fitness resources, the training table and access to the resources and special assistance afforded to student-athletes to help with their academics. There was also the sense of belonging and fraternal identity of being on the football team that he knew he'd be giving up. It was a hard decision.
After the start of his second Spring semester -- this time without his mom -- he met with his head coach to inform him of his decision to quit the team in order to pay full attention to his academic goals. The coach was not happy. He argued that the team had made a commitment to him and had invested much time and effort in him. He was, so the argument went, a key cog in the program plans; to quit now would throw a monkey wrench into the player personnel strategy and it was a little late in the game to come in now and throw this news on the team.
Mike didn't get the "if you'd wanted an education, you shoulda gone to Harvard" speech. After all, he essentially WAS at Harvard (or so this particularly Ivy would like to believe.) But the athletic staff didn't make it easy for him. "Quitting" was treated like a character flaw. No value was given by the athletic department people to the rationale of quitting for the purpose of improving the quality of the education he was supposed to be getting from this Ivy-level collegiate opportunity.
Mike was never going to play football professionally. Mike wasn't promised that he was ever going to be anything more than a 2nd string utility man off the bench, working in the trenches of the offensive line. Mike wasn't getting any tuition assistance. There weren't even any boosters offering to help under the table. What, other than guilt, was holding him to some earlier commitment, coercing him to compromise his educational goals?
Despite the pressure not to, he did quit; but the experience was so unfriendly and unsupportive, he transferred after the Spring term. He left Ivy College, moved back home and enrolled at San Diego State University. He'd wind up earning his degree from SDSU, even joining the football squad and being awarded a grant in aid as a fifth year senior. He never became a star student, even at SDSU, but he was no longer struggling just to stay afloat, and he felt like his coursework was finally meaningful and not just something meant to keep him eligible.
I wonder sometimes whether his story is typical. Maybe not in terms of his dissatisfaction, since I'm sure more than a few collegiate student-athletes aren't overly concerned with maximizing their educational experience. For too many, a 2.3 GPA is probably just fine, and the more shortcuts or paths of least resistance to a diploma, the better. But it surprised me that the compromises expected of student-athletes, particularly in football, existed to this degree even at a vaunted Ivy League school that wasn't even that successful in football during the time frame of this story.
I give Mike a lot of credit. I'm not sure I would have been able to quit. I likely would have acquiesced, suffered through another two years just to be awarded that Ivy diploma, even if it was a facade in terms of the quality.
I thought about not obscuring the identity of the college; and I might even edit this later to include real names, if "Mike" gives me permission. I only publish this here to add another anecdotal illustration of how collegiate sports programs can affect what should be the primary mission of a university; that being the academic education of the individual. I'm not hostile to the value of collegiate athletics...at all. I'm more than a little cautious myself that entities like The Drake Group might have a more militant or drastic vision than do I regarding the best balance between sport and the classroom. 1
But the challenge to achieve that best balance doesn't merely reside within the confines of "revenue sports" nor is it abated simply by removing scholarships from the equation. There is still a potential incentive for those who are hired to obtain and sustain success on the field or court, using student-athletes as a resource, to dilute the emphasis on academic learning where such emphasis impacts the athletic goals of the school, coaches or boosters/fans.
Universities should be watchdogs, policing themselves to ensure that the goals of athletic achievement don't supplant education in terms of priorities. On the other hand, I don't stand shoulder-to-shoulder with those academics who long for an ideal where collegiate sports are stripped from the university landscape.
I also recognize that for a rare few, mainly in the for-profit sports of football and basketball, college can be a stepping stone to a professional career in the sport. But universities are not vocational schools and shouldn't be forcing or expecting "student-athletes" to be "athlete-students." As I posted earlier, some compromise is expected, and it's part of the bargain, at least in terms of scholarship arrangements. But it crosses the line when schools expect a student-athlete to be willing to accept a subpar or non-enriching academic experience so that the athletic department has the student-athlete resource it needs.
1 Update: Since this was originally posted, I've since become more appreciative of The Drake Group's activities and philosophies. I'm not sure I would consider myself to be 100% aligned, however my former trepidation about the organization no longer exists.
