It is now difficult not to recall the most audacious act by possibly the most immodest university president in history, Robert Maynard Hutchins. It isn’t because he terminated football at the University of Chicago during his reign there in the second quarter of the previous century. It is his reasoning for doing so.
“The trouble with football,” Hutchins, a philosopher, declared to the press in 1938, “is the money that is in it.” Hutchins went on to write in the Saturday Evening Post, “Athleticism is not athletics or physical education, but sports promotion, and it is carried on for the monetary profit of the colleges through the entertainment of the public.”
He then so convinced his board of football’s misalignment with the mission of higher education that it agreed to realign the football team — the Maroons, once coached by the legendary Amos Alonzo Stagg — right off the campus. That is something I’ve argued for years should be pursued by every college in what we call the Power Five conferences, which in the blink of an eye are disintegrating and reorganizing in different forms.
After all, this latest round of conference realignment has everything to do with chasing the billions of dollars broadcast corporations showered on the biggest schools the past couple of years — such as the $7 billion bag Fox, CBS and NBC dropped on Big Ten members last summer to show their games — and nothing to do with mission statements such as, for example, Maryland’s, which mentions athletics but once. Fact is, Maryland left the venerable ACC in 2014 after more than half a century for the riches the Big Ten could provide, to help soak up the debt on a football stadium it expanded without need. As Hutchins said, money is what big-time college football is all about.
College football has been college football in name only for quite some time, as Hutchins’s 1930s critique presaged. But in the past 20 to 25 years, it has been commercialized, commodified, capitalized and professionalized so much as to make it virtually indistinguishable from the NFL. How else could the newest Pied Piper of coaching, Deion Sanders, take the head job at Colorado — which, of course, is switching conferences again — and immediately kick a bunch of players off the team to make way for those he wanted to bring in from elsewhere, only to have the head of the school say doing so was fine? That’s the NFL’s modus operandi. The only thing college football doesn’t do like the pros now is play most of its schedule on Sundays. And, of course, it doesn’t pay the field-level unrepresented laborers it dissimulates as student-athletes.
So what are we waiting for? While the Big Ten is expanding from coast to coast, and the Pac-10 or -12 or whatever it was in its last iteration is being cannibalized by the Big 12, just call whatever teams are left the National College Football League. Teams can be affiliated with schools but in the loosest sense. Divide the conferences by region as the NFL does. The rivalries many are teary-eyed to see disappear can be reestablished or maintained.
Under the new arrangements, the athletes — who are ostensibly at their universities to learn — will be traveling farther to play games, which means less time in class and more letters to professors excusing athletes under the pretense of performing a university function, all of which makes a mockery of the academy. Even before big schools such as Oregon and Washington entered the college sports rendition of musical chairs by joining the Big Ten, where they will play way-way-away games at Rutgers in New Jersey, at least one study found athletes felt longer travel hurt their academic performance as well as their athletic performance.
It is now challenging not to remember the boldest act by perhaps the most arrogant university president in history, Robert Maynard Hutchins. It's not because he ended football at the University of Chicago during his time there in the second quarter of the previous century. It is his justification for doing so.
"The problem with football," Hutchins, a philosopher, declared to the press in 1938, "is the money involved." Hutchins went on to write in the Saturday Evening Post, "Athleticism is not athletics or physical education, but sports promotion, and it is carried out for the financial gain of colleges through entertaining the public."
He then convinced his board that football did not align with the mission of higher education, leading them to relocate the football team—the Maroons, once coached by the legendary Amos Alonzo Stagg—off campus. This is something I have advocated for years, suggesting that every college in the Power Five conferences should pursue it. These conferences are now rapidly disintegrating and reorganizing in different forms.
After all, this recent wave of conference realignment is all about pursuing the billions of dollars that broadcast corporations have poured into the largest schools over the past couple of years. For example, last summer, Fox, CBS, and NBC invested $7 billion to broadcast Big Ten games. It has nothing to do with mission statements, such as Maryland's, which mentions athletics only once. The fact is, Maryland left the respected ACC in 2014 after more than fifty years for the financial benefits that the Big Ten could offer, in order to cover the debt from an unnecessary expansion of their football stadium. As Hutchins said, big-time college football is all about money.
College football has been in name only for quite some time, as Hutchins predicted in the 1930s. But in the past 20 to 25 years, it has become so commercialized, commodified, capitalized, and professionalized that it is nearly indistinguishable from the NFL. How else could Deion Sanders, the newest influential coach, take the head coaching job at Colorado and immediately dismiss several players to make room for those he wanted to bring in from elsewhere? And how could the head of the school say that was acceptable? This is the modus operandi of the NFL. The only thing college football doesn't do like the pros is play most of its schedule on Sundays. And, of course, it doesn't pay the student-athletes who work on the field.
So why are we waiting? While the Big Ten is expanding across the country and the Pac-10 or -12 (or whatever it was called in its last iteration) is being consumed by the Big 12, let's just call the remaining teams the National College Football League. Teams can still have affiliations with schools, but in the loosest sense. Divide the conferences by region, just like the NFL does. The rivalries that many are sad to see disappear can be reestablished or maintained.
Under this new arrangement, athletes—who are supposedly at their universities to learn—will have to travel farther to play games. This means less time in class and more requests for excused absences from professors under the guise of a university function. All of this makes a mockery of academia. Even before big schools like Oregon and Washington joined the Big Ten, where they will have to travel to Rutgers in New Jersey for games, at least one study found that athletes felt longer travel negatively impacted both their academic and athletic performance.
The author proposes that college football teams should pay rights fees to the universities they are associated with in order to use the facilities and sport the colors and nicknames that their alumni and fans are accustomed to. This income can then be used by the schools to support other intercollegiate sports on campus.
Furthermore, the author suggests that football players should be treated as employees and receive fair compensation. They should be provided with the same healthcare and insurance benefits as other employees. Additionally, if the players choose to attend the school their team is attached to, they should be allowed to do so like any other employee of the campus and receive tuition remission.
The author concludes by stating that there are too many irreconcilable differences between the not-for-profit college mission and for-profit football, and it is time to separate the two.