March (Whatever) Fills NCAA Coffers
But Players Don't See A Dime Of It
It's a little intimidating having The Suits come down on you. But being the team player that I am, I always play by the rules.
No Madness.
No need to have litigious ones on my back(side).
Nosirree.
I'm told that those upstanding ladies and gents at that National Collegiate Athletic Association -- those bastions of amateurism who sold the TV rights to the basketball tournament for billions (all in the name of amateurism, of course) -- have a trademark on the words March and Madness when used in succession.
Hence, I won't subject the company that signs my check each week to possible litigation by using the words March and Madness in succession.
That said, I am in something of a quandary.
What do you call this thing?
The Field of 65 just doesn?t roll off your tongue now that they added another team for some unknown reason.
And I made a pact with myself many years ago -- a self-imposed moratorium, if you will -- never to refer to this tournament as "The Big Dance."
That name conjures up horrific memories of a white tuxedo with powder blue ruffles and a date -- the same gal who chose the aforementioned ensemble -- who it turns out was more interested in the bass player whose band was performing.
Do you feel my pain?
Do you understand why this Big-Dance, Grand-Cotillion, Prom-Nightmare moniker has no place in my March Mindset?
What's in a name, anyway?
We'll simply refer to it as The Tourney.
OK. It?s settled.
The Tourney.
You know the best thing about The Tourney?
The office pools.
I?m serious.
There are two times of year -- Super Bowl and tourney time -- when no one, from the managing editor to the sweet old receptionist, minds dropping a few bucks for the opportunity to add even more thrills to an already-exciting event.
It is estimated that Americans wager $2.5 billion illegally -- such a strong word, I know -- on The Tourney. The vast majority of that money is wagered by upstanding citizens, most of whom have never come within spitting distance of a bookmaker.
Simply put, those office pools add up.
Memo to self: Call Lefty and drop a dime on Arizona.
OK, where were we?
Right, office pools.
The people making billions at the NCAA wash their hands of anything as immoral as office pools, but I have to believe there is a friendly pick-'em contest taking place in their corporate skyscraper in Indianapolis.
Like it or not, gambling and The Tourney are strange, but compatible, bedfellows.
Lawmakers will denounce gambling at the collegiate level. They've tried to pass laws that prohibit legal gambling on collegiate sports.
Since Nevada is the only place in the United States where you can legally bet on college sports, the only thing that would come of such legislation is that the offshore bookies would cash in and, ultimately, millions would be lost in taxes.
NCAA executives also take the moral high ground on gambling. Heck, they once threatened to pull the media credentials of any publication that printed the daily point spreads of college games.
You see, Charles Wethington, president of the University of Kentucky and a former chairman of the NCAA's executive committee, actually said his organization believed that publishing point spreads in newspapers encourages college betting, which is the same as saying the obituary section of the paper encourages people to die.
It was a hypocritically hollow gesture.
A toothless threat at best.
There isn't a publication in America worth its newsprint that doesn't publish the point spreads, and last time I checked, the only credential requests that had been denied by the NCAA were to us oft-overlooked dot-commers (another argument for another time).
Actually, the NCAA had to take some sort of action -- even one as utterly useless as the idle threat of pulling credentials -- just to let the country know that it acknowledges a gambling problem on our nation's college campuses.
College student-athletes, many of whom have their living and tuition expenses paid but live well below the poverty line, are prime candidates to be involved in point-shaving scandals.
The NCAA dreads the potential for corruption from gambling. History shows these fears are not unfounded. There have been no fewer than eight collegiate point-shaving scandals in the last 10 years.
The squeaky-clean image the NCAA is trying to project won't last long with that kind of behavior.
However, examine the hypocrisy.
Two years ago, the NCAA put itself up for auction. It became involved in a nationwide bidding war for its corporate headquarters.
Overland Park, Kan., had served as home for several years, but after watching the Big 12 Conference leave Kansas City for the big bucks and tax abatements Dallas had to offer, it did likewise and put itself on the open market.
Dallas and Kansas City bid millions, promised to build new headquarters for the NCAA -- virtually free of charge -- but Indianapolis came through with the most lucrative bid.
In Cleveland, Art Modell is a hated man for doing virtually the same thing -- moving his organization. Modell is a businessman.
Modell's morals may be questioned, but he is more trustworthy only because there are no hidden agendas -- no misconceptions. He makes no bones about it. He is in this business to make money.
The NCAA, meanwhile, says it operates to preserve amateurism.
Also consider that last year, the NCAA sold the television rights to its basketball tournament for $6.2 billion.
Yet, not one penny of that money went to the athletes, who -- no matter how much we focus on the Bob Knights, Rick Pittinos and Coach Ks of the college basketball world -- are still the show.
In 1993, America fell in love with Michigan's Fab Five. The NCAA sold jerseys bearing the numbers of Chris Webber, Juwon Howard and Jalen Rose, yet the players did not receive a dime for it.
While NCAA rakes in billions each year on TV rights and the sale of gear, the coaches make millions and the fans plunk down their hard-earned cash at the ticket booth and in their office pools.
Meanwhile, the student-athletes walk away from the tournament with nothing tangible.
Granted, they leave school -- hopefully -- with a degree and enough memories to last a lifetime, which would be enough if the NCAA truly abided by the ideals of amateurism it claims to.
Can it truly be called amateur athletics if the only ones not getting rich are the players?
So what do we do about it?
Until the NCAA finds a way to provide student-athletes with stipends that would make them less vulnerable to some unsavory opportunists, there isn?t a whole lot to do.
The NCAA will continue to rake in the dough.
The fans will continue to wager on the action.
And the student-athletes will survive by any means necessary.
The talented ones will bolt for the professional ranks after a year or two. The fringe players will do what they have to do. In most cases, that means nothing. In most cases, that means doing without late-night pizza or an occasional movie.
Most student-athletes are well aware of the boundaries, not to mention the ramifications of crossing the lines. They are warned of what they can and cannot do, of whom they can and cannot associate with, and of which they can and cannot take money for -- be it an overzealous booster or a smooth talker with a heavy stake on the outcome of the next game.
However, like all young people, they are prone to making bad decisions.
It's understandable how they can be swayed. College student-athletes are vulnerable to the temptations and pressures associated with gambling and greed, we?re told.
While it is hard to condone -- integrity is something that should never be sold for any price -- it is easy to understand how they might be tempted.
Especially when you consider the NCAA itself, which sets such an unchallengable standard for what amateur athletics are supposed to be.
Sangimino Archive:
Pat Sangimino is a veteran sports reporter and currently is a senior news editor at thekansascitychannel.com. Feel free to send him an e-mail with your thoughts on his weekly topics.
