The NCAA Division I men’s basketball tournament is upon us once again, bringing together 68 schools of varying hoops pedigree to create arguably the most precious event on our sports calendar.
We don’t have to wonder about the bona fides of superstars like Duke’s Zion Williamson, Murray State’s Ja Morant or North Carolina’s Coby White. They clearly were admitted based on their merit as ballers, if not bookworms.
But what about some of those players at the end of each bench, the guys who rarely take off their sweats and check in prior to garbage time? Someone needs to check and make sure those acceptance letters weren’t bought and paid for by the players’ parents.
This is too rich.
In revenue sports like men’s basketball and football, the universities and sneaker companies hand out bags of money in hopes of landing blue-chip recruits. But in Olympic sports, like soccer and water polo, devious parents write checks in hopes of getting their nondescript kids enrolled.
Clearly, the latter is more corrupt.
Superstar athletes’ value to their school can hit seven figures across a range of revenue streams like tickets, concessions, merchandise, advertising and broadcasting. And, especially for mid-majors, a successful run in the NCAA tournament leads to sharp increases in student applications.
Athletes can bring much to the table, far more than they take (or are given). Conversely, the underachieving, low-performing offspring of wealthy and well-connected parents simply take up space, filling seats that should’ve gone to honest, hard-working students.
“There can be no separate admission system for the wealthy,” U.S. Attorney Andrew E. Lelling said last week in discussing a major college entrance scandal. “And I will add there will not be a separate justice system.”
Who’s he kidding? Separate and unequal are entrenched in America’s fabric like apple pie and Chevrolet.
For some who have the means, there’s no end to using them. Parents will pay $1.2 million to turn their daughter who doesn’t play competitive soccer into a Yale soccer recruit. They will wire $200,000 to USC and submit a fake photo to pass off their non-rowing daughter as a rower. They will bribe tennis coaches at Georgetown and Texas, a volleyball coach at Wake Forest and a sailing coach at Stanford.
These parents’ obsession with college credentials for their children is not far removed from our colleges’ obsession with championship credentials.
Hoops powerhouses like Duke, Kentucky and Michigan State can measure their value, at least partially, by the number of banners hanging from the rafters. In football, Alabama can pay Nick Saban more than $8 million annually to keep his machine humming, while Clemson hands Dabo Swinney $6.5 million in base salary and over $1 million in bonuses.
When dollar signs like those float throughout college sports — Duke’s Mike Krzyzewski’s $8.98 million in salary, the NCAA’s TV contract that eventually rises to $1 billion-plus per year, etc. — it’s easy to understand why players want a cut.
Likewise, when society places such prestige on college degrees, particularly from super-selective universities, it’s no wonder that some parents will offer millions through payments under the table — or names on a building — to get their kids in.
Can we admit that it’s all out of control? Having kids specialize in sports beginning at age 6. Paying $40,000 per year for tuition at elementary school. Turning tutoring and college prep into booming cottage industries.
Our plate is full.
We have this scandal involving college admissions. We have the federal investigation into sneaker executives, coaches and agents. We have the ongoing battle royale between amateur “student-athletes” and the money-grubbing NCAA. Between the three cases, something has to give regarding our approach to higher education and intercollegiate athletics.
These issues will take a back seat as the tournament gets underway Tuesday with the First Four. The matters will be far from our minds in three weeks, when the Final Four ends and “One Shining Moment” begins.
But they’re not going away.
“Operation Varsity Blues” is still in its embryonic state, with more charges possible for the rich and famous. College coaches like LSU’s Will Wade are sweating as former Auburn assistant Chuck Person is scheduled to plead guilty to conspiracy for steering players to top schools and selected handlers. And athletes and advocacy groups continue to mount legal challenges to the NCAA’s cold-blooded cartel.
However, all of that is for discussion and consumption at a later point in time.
For now, enjoy the tourney!
Deron Snyder writes his award-winning column for The Washington Times on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Follow him on Twitter @DeronSnyder.
• Deron Snyder can be reached at deronsnyder@gmail.com.
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