Last week Jalen Rose took a break from promoting and defending his Fab Five documentary to write a piece for the Huffington Post arguing that NCAA student athletes should receive a $2000-per-semester stipend to cover living expenses.
Rose makes a compelling case:
“[The] overwhelming time commitment of practice, film sessions and team obligations make it impossible to maintain a part-time job, which is not permitted. It’s difficult to juggle two full time jobs — going to school and playing athletics. A $2,000 per semester stipend would go a long way for giving the student athletes extra money to help pay bills and living expenses. Many student-athletes may not have family members they can rely on to give them money when funds run low. . . .
[An] athlete’s scholarship can be taken away at any time regardless of your GPA. A player can have a 4.0 GPA and the coach can decide that player no longer fits the system. The school has the authority to rescind that player’s scholarship no matter how well they perform in the classroom.”
But his argument is based on the false premise that “universities view athletics as a business and an opportunity to grow their brand and make money.” This is true of a handful of programs at a handful of schools. Major conference Division I football and men’s basketball programs earn millions of dollars for their universities from ticket sales, television revenue, and merchandising. Women’s basketball and hockey are also profitable at certain schools. But most sports lose money.
A study last year found that most Division I athletic programs operate at a loss and are “becoming increasingly reliant on their colleges and universities for financial support.” Only 14 Division I-FBS athletic programs turned a profit in 2009, down from 25 in 2007. (There are currently 120 Division I-FBS members, though Western Kentucky did not become a full member until 2009.) Even major football programs frequently lose money on bowl games.
This month the University of Nebraska-Omaha won its third straight Division II wrestling title then announced that it would be cutting its wrestling program “in order to make its athletic program financially sustainable.” Currently the school relies on its hockey program to generate money for the rest of its sports. UNO will be making the jump to Division I and joining the Summit League in hopes of getting the athletic department out of the red. Along the way, the Mavericks will have to cut some sports.
Rose’s case for paying student-athletes seems especially relevant at Division III schools that don’t even offer athletic scholarships. But, HDNet’s broadcast of the Monon Bell Classic notwithstanding, Division III programs don’t see much money from TV deals, or even ticket sales. How many Division III athletic departments could afford to pay their swimmers and golfers $2000-per-semester without cutting programs? For that matter, how many Division I departments could?
Still, Rose has a point. There are plenty of big-time college basketball and football players with little or no money in their pockets who generate millions of dollars for universities and conferences and video game companies. Michigan made nearly $19 million from apparel sales during the Fab Five era. Chris Webber famously said that he couldn’t stand seeing his Michigan jersey on sale for $75 when he didn’t have enough money for pizza. In 2009 former Nebraska and Arizona State quarterback Sam Keller and other former student-athletes filed suit against EA Sports and the NCAA alleging that the pair profits illegally from the likenesses of college football and basketball players in video games.
While it is unreasonable to ask universities to pay all of their varsity athletes a few thousand dollars a year, it is unfair for schools and companies to profit from a player’s jersey or likeness without passing along a portion of this profit to the athletes themselves. Perhaps the solution is to give players a cut of money earned directly from their name and/or likeness. So Jimmer Fredette would get a percentage of the money made from all the BYU #32 jerseys you’ll see this weekend in New Orleans. And all Division I basketball and football players would get a royalty from the NCAA-licensed video games in which they are featured.
The promise of royalty money likely would have an effect on recruiting. A young football player might decide that he will sell more jerseys in Columbus, Ohio than in Stillwater, Oklahoma and choose his college accordingly. But recruiting advantages are nothing new. Top athletes are already drawn to schools in conferences with big television deals and a history of sending players to the pros. The prospect of apparel dollars might actually help mid-major programs attract players who would stand to earn more by being a big fish in a small pond than by being just another good player on a great team. In markets such as Omaha and Evansville and Peoria—metropolitan areas with several hundred thousand people but no major professional franchises—the Bluejays, Aces, and Braves are the biggest game in town (at least during basketball season). An athlete may benefit financially from being a starter at Bradley instead of riding the bench at Illinois.
Money earned from royalties may be sufficient to keep elite players at top programs from accepting cash from boosters or runners (“may” being the operative word). All players would have the same deal—one determined by the NCAA and member institutions. There would be no role for agents. And the NCAA would still have plenty of opportunities to throw its weight around. The organization could place a cap on royalty earnings; money earned beyond this cap could be placed in a fund for student-athletes from low-income families. (The cap would have to be high enough that a player and his family wouldn’t be tempted by an offer of $180,000 from a Mississippi State booster.)
Allowing varsity athletes to earn royalties probably won’t help a distance runner at Mt. Union or a softball player at Minnesota-Duluth buy a pizza, but it would go a long way toward correcting a fundamental injustice in college sports.
About Josh Tinley
