"Ask me if I care"

As a child, I remember hearing this phrase a lot. By "a lot," I mean more than my own name. To be fair, my mother raised five children so I can understand why she didn't sweat the small stuff. But there may be something genetic to the phrase as well, because I find myself asking the same question with respect to those who clamor for level playing fields when it comes to student stipends.

On the table is the Big Ten's wild hair to increase stipends for athletes in revenue-generating sports, namely, football and men's basketball. The thrust of the opposition to this plan seems to be that if the Big Ten adopts this practice, those athletic departments will be at a significant advantage to schools that do not. As a result, the Big Ten (and any other schools and conferences that will inevitably follow its lead) will secure the nation's finest recruits and henceforth claim a monopoly on national titles from here on out.

The first response I had to this argument was confusion as to how this hypothetical scenario presents any change from our current situation. The last time someone other than a power conference team (or Notre Dame) won the football national championship? That was 1984, when BYU (the Mormon version of Notre Dame) went undefeated. In truth, you really have to go back to the 1920s before you see any "real" mid-majors win championships. And in those days, the Ivy League was a power conference. As for basketball, the last time a mid-major team cut the nets at the Final Four was when UNLV won it all in 1990. Though I think we can agree that there were extenuating circumstances surrounding that team. And before that, the Golden Era of mid-major success was the 1950s and early 1960s, when schools like La Salle, San Francisco, and Loyola (in Chicago) won championships. So if the complaint is that under the Big Ten's proposal, only the power conference schools will win championships, well, that particular complaint comes about 50 years too late.

The second response I had was "who cares?". Brian Cook over at mgoblog asks that question, but I don't think he answers it, instead focusing on the fact that the Big Ten's proposal is not the high monetary hurdle that Gasaway makes it out to be. And I think Brian makes a couple of great points, most significantly that these schools are already paying absurd (non-Wall Street division) sums of money to men who teach other men how to throw a ball into a basket. Say what you will about the rigors of coaching and the virtues of men like Pat Kelsey but at the end of the day that a head coaching job at a Division I university is a job that plenty of people would gladly accept (present company included). It's a notoriously difficult profession to break into--contrary to popular belief, suddenly quitting office jobs at Eli Lilly is not the recommended fast track to a big break--which is another way of saying it's a very coveted job. My point here is simply that schools could certainly afford to cut coach salaries quite a bit before the nation suffers from a basketball coach shortage.

Further, implicit in the opposition line of argument is that we have substantial equality now. While that's true in the context of student stipends, it's demonstrably false everywhere else. It's warm and sunny at UCLA but cold and often dreary in the Midwest. The academic programs at Duke are top notch, with SAT scores that nearly double those found at schools in the SWAC. And there simply is no comparison between the training facilities at power conference schools with those found elsewhere, by and large. The fact is that we are all unequals, right now.

And if we carry that inequality over to student stipends? Well, some schools will follow suit, and others will not. That much is clear. And these stipends will undoubtedly become an additional factor for prospective student-athletes in choosing what college to attend. But so what? It's not like an extra $3,000 would trump all other considerations. Nor is it necessarily true that mid-majors would be too cash-poor to participate in the stipend spree, as Cook points out.

I'm also confused by Gasaway's insistence that "basketball is different" with respect to competitive balance. Seems to me that for every Butler or VCU there is a Boise State or TCU. Though both sports have failed to crown a mid-major as champion, both sports have seen mid-major schools crash the Final Four and BCS bowls in recent seasons. But there is one aspect in which the sports are different--money. A great football program brings in a lot of dough, while a bad one is quite expensive. Thus, I could see why a school with a great basketball team and a mediocre football team (like, say, Butler) might opt to pay out stipends in the former, but not the latter. Considering this comes with a price tag of about $60,000 a year at the high end, I reject any claims of poverty associated with the practice.

Frankly, the argument I thought I would hear is one of slippery slopes--that if an extra $5,000 was OK, what about an extra $10,000? $15,000? $30,000? There's some line-drawing that will have to happen here, and that line will be drawn by the NCAA, an institution with a spotty record of line-drawing.

Additionally, the "competitive balance" argument may also have an impact on the NCAA's protected status under the antitrust laws. Over the past 30 years, "competitive balance" has been the lynchpin for antitrust exemptions for sports leagues. While the NCAA has historically relied on educational goals and pursuits in fending off antitrust challenges, it's possible that the association would wish to preserve an additional layer of protection from the antitrust laws. But that's all conjecture at this point, a bridge to be crossed later. For now, I support adding a modest sum of cash as a real consideration to the high school prospect's college decision.

Captain Renault would be so proud

I'm not quite sure what to make of the sudden rash of analysis regarding money and the NCAA. On the one hand, it's surely an important issue worthy of our concern. On the other hand, this is not exactly recent news. The income disparity between the NCAA and collegiate athletes has been around for quite some time. If I give the media cycle the benefit of the doubt, perhaps we can pin the recent chatter to the fact that some 11 months ago, the broadcasting rights for the men's basketball tournament were sold for some $10.8 billion. Perhaps last April was the proper time for all the college basketball analysts to collectively navel gaze, but that ignores the plethora of "Gone Fishin'" signs hung by said analysts after all the nets are cut.

But before I delve into the subject, I insist that everyone reading this go read what John Gasaway wrote on the subject just yesterday. Go on, read it. I'll wait.

Gasaway makes many points, but the biggest one seems to be that while the NCAA hauls in quite a bit of money, it gives back the vast majority of that to the schools in the form of hosting other non-revenue championships as well as outright distributions. This is an important point for those who want to hold the NCAA accountable as a solitary bad actor. The NCAA's offices in Indianapolis is not some skull-carved lair and as far as I can tell Mark Emmert does not have mustache he curls as he hatches evil schemes. To the extent that the NCAA is guilty of anything, that guilt must also pass on to the schools.

One complaint going around seems to be that the NCAA has erred by making lots of money off of the student-athletes. Frankly, this does not make sense. Surely, it's obvious to everyone that the NCAA has to make money. The organization does a lot of things--hosting other tournaments, for one, and also for going all Eliot Ness on athletes accepting cash (more on that in a bit). Once we accept that the NCAA has to make money, I don't understand the complaint that it tries to make as much as possible. This is a non-profit organization, after all, it's not like Warren Buffett is lining his pockets with TBS dough. While some NCAA employees are highly paid, that's really a debate about non-profits generally. And believe me, that debate exists, and it's been going on for quite some time. All of this is to say that the NCAA is not unlike other non-profit organizations, in that the ethical lines of executive compensation make us squeamish.

The bigger complaint, however, is that student-athletes are not allowed to capitalize on their talents in a commercial manner. This is where things get interesting. The characterization on this state of things is that the NCAA is "greedy." Once again, this makes no sense. The NCAA did not investigate Reggie Bush in the hopes of collecting his cash. The organization is not acting as a crooked intermediary between the agents and the collegiate players. While there might be a limited possible exception* to this, generally speaking, the NCAA is not made richer vis-a-vis outlawing student-athlete compensation.

On that topic, it's worth noting that Gasaway has previously argued for the student-athlete right to seek compensation. Morally, there's absolutely nothing wrong with Gasaway's argument. In fact, student-athletes are getting paid, right this very second, but yet I anticipate many fans will nonetheless tune in to watch this weekend's championship. For alumni of the school that wins it all, it will be one of the happier moments of their lives. The sport isn't tarnished because athletes cash some checks. It may, however, become tarnished when the penalty for rule-breaking pounds once-proud programs into the ground.

I suspect, however, that Gasaway knows better than believing that because the ethics are workable, that the solution is as well. After all, if allowing student-athletes to make some money did not make the NCAA (and by extension, the schools) any worse off, then why not let them? Mark Emmert does not need the headaches of being attacked by Frontline and HBO, to say nothing of being defended by Gregg Doyel. So why hold out?

I say, blame Justice Stevens:

Moreover, the NCAA seeks to market a particular brand of football -- college football. The identification of this "product" with an academic tradition differentiates college football from and makes it more popular than professional sports to which it might otherwise be comparable, such as, for example, minor league baseball. In order to preserve the character and quality of the "product," athletes must not be paid, must be required to attend class, and the like. And the integrity of the "product" cannot be preserved except by mutual agreement; if an institution adopted such restrictions unilaterally, its effectiveness as a competitor on the playing field might soon be destroyed. Thus, the NCAA plays a vital role in enabling college football to preserve its character, and as a result enables a product to be marketed which might otherwise be unavailable. In performing this role, its actions widen consumer choice -- not only the choices available to sports fans but also those available to athletes -- and hence can be viewed as procompetitive.

To give some background, this excerpt from the Supreme Court came within one of the many antitrust challenges that the NCAA has been fighting off for decades. When you have a collection of entities that decide to join together, make some money, and agree between themselves how to limit employee compensation, you're going to get some antitrust challenges. Further, when it comes to marketable collegiate sports, the NCAA is the only game in town. To be sure, the NCAA is not alone in this behavior. Take a look at the professional leagues, what with their salary caps, rookie payscales, and luxury taxes. All of these instruments are simply a means to limit employee compensation. The preferred antitrust loophole for these leagues is the collective bargaining exception. Because there exists a players union, we'll allow the anticompetitive behavior to continue. The thinking is that so long as the employees have a voice in these matters, they will be treated fairly.

Meanwhile, there is no collegiate players union. In the absence of this, the Supreme Court carved out an exemption based on the idea that so long as collegiate sports was primarily an educational endeavor, then it was subject to less antitrust scrutiny. And in order to make collegiate sports more "collegiate" and less "[commercial] sports," we need the NCAA out there cracking down on player kickbacks. To use the parlance of my industry, this is a legal fiction of the highest order. The takeaway on all of this is that so long as the NCAA is out there busting down doors to ensure that players aren't paid, then antitrust challenges from players will be less successful.

In other words, if the NCAA started allowing the Kemba Walkers of the world to accept cash advances from agents, it risks lawsuits from high school players who complain that the NCAA's rules will not allow their prospective colleges to pay them in exchange for a verbal commitment. In this scenario, money would be taken from the NCAA (remember, that's the schools) and given to players. One would expect that John Calipari's recruiting budget would have to expand quite a bit, and that certainly would come at considerable cost to Kentucky.

That's the problem I have with the problem with amateurism. It's an attempt to leave Pandora's Box slightly ajar. Mind you, I don't necessarily advocate the regulatory framework we're working within, but it's a fool's errand to try and undo three decades of litigation.

So what's the solution? Well, one plausible strategy is to look at who is actually getting rich (with all this money, someone must be), and thinking of how to divert some of those dollars to the players. The prime candidates would seem to be the coaches, with their multi-million dollar salaries and shoe endorsement deals. Alas, restricting those salaries is illegal too. I leave it to others to query how it can be legally problematic for schools to either allow player compensation or restrict coach compensation.

Alas, there is no solution that I think will satisfy everyone. However, there are some things the NCAA can do. For one, it can make sure that kids like Joseph Agnew are not cast aside in the future. Just as player compensation would not be toxic from a moral standpoint, multi-year scholarships will not grind the Earth's rotation to a halt. And sure, it would be nice if the player's families were given assistance to travel to more of their kids' games. And the players' budgets are a bit thin--why not give just a bit more to these kids so that they're not living like poor college kids on top of going to practice all the time? Sure, I was once a poor college kid myself, but I also spent many afternoons napping on the quad or drinking on a sun deck. And hey, to Emmert's credit, he's thinking about doing some of that (compensating players, that is. Not the drinking at inappropriate times.).

The NCAA (and by extension, the member schools) is not greedy nor evil. The structure and rules of the NCAA are not perfect, and unless some enterprising lawyer takes on Supreme Court precedent, they likely never will be. But we can do better. And we should.

* The possible exception being in the form of naming rights for video games and such. Conceivably, a video game maker would have to pay the NCAA as well as the hundreds of athletes depicted in its game. More practically, the more efficient means would be for the NCAA to collect all the money and then cut checks to the players. This still doesn't really solve the complaint that the most marketable athletes are subsidizing others, however.

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