NCAA Football, Part 1: (Some of) The Problems

The college football season ended this week with the Michigan Wolverines convincingly defeating the Washington Huskies, 34-13, in the national championship game.  Curmie admits to being a fan of the sport despite the manifold problems associated with it: corruption, injuries (both acute and chronic), etc.

And this was a particularly good year in some ways, at least for Curmie: Cortland State, the team from the town where Curmie went to high school and where he did a few shows as an actor and technician, won the national championship in Division 3.  Dartmouth, Curmie’s undergrad alma mater, tied for the Ivy League championship.  And Curmie’s PhD school, the Kansas Jayhawks, after years of being a doormat in the Big 12 and a national laughingstock, continued their improvement, finishing 9-4 with a win over traditional power Oklahoma, a bowl victory, and a top-25 ranking at the end of the season.

Ah, Gentle Reader, but the news is not all good.  Indeed, other than the success of teams Curmie cheers for, it’s a disaster.  The head coach of the national champion was suspended for literally half of the regular season for two separate violations; if Michigan keeps cheating like this, the SEC is going to sue for trademark violation.

But ultimately, that’s the least (well, among the least) of our worries.  The combination of the transfer portal and NIL (name, image, and likeness) deals have made the game all but unrecognizable.  The problem isn’t specifically related to football, of course: Curmie watched a basketball game the other night in which the total number of non-freshman “scholarship” players (for both teams combined) who were playing for the team where they started their collegiate career was two, and one of them had committed elsewhere before changing his mind before actually enrolling.

But if unlimited movement weren’t bad enough, the NIL business is worse, not even counting the way the system lends itself to abuse.  Let me count the ways.  First, NIL allows virtually unlimited funding for jocks, meaning that the schools with the most rabid and wealthy fans will always get the best athletes because they can and do offer the most money.  And by “always,” Curmie means both “universally” and “in perpetuity.” 

Second, it devalues those traits the sports are allegedly designed to inculcate: loyalty, perseverance, teamwork, and so on.  Third, it places an inordinant emphasis on so-called “revenue-producing sports,” football and men’s basketball.  We’ll leave aside the observation that for most universities, even—or perhaps especially—these sports are net drains on the school’s financial resources.  Women’s sports are especially overlooked in NIL.

Most importantly, of course, these deals exacerbate the already precipitous decline of the university into what what one quipster has called “a sporting franchise with a side hustle in tertiary education.”  The best high school physics student in the state won’t get as sweet a deal as someone destined to be the backup punter, especially if the latter is a handsome and well-spoken lad.  Even (or, again, perhaps especially) outstanding students with public-facing skillsets—journalists, actors, musicians, et al.—aren’t going to compete with the third-string linebacker.  This is because, not to put too fine a point on it, most universities have dropped even the pretense of caring about excellence within academic disciplines.  They’ll give their often wildly corrupt athletic programs whatever they want, and History, Chemistry, Philosophy, et al., are left to fight over the scraps.

If we want to see the clearest manifestation of the problems with college football, it’s the bowl games.  First off, there are far too many of them.  62% of FBS (i.e., Division 1) teams went to a bowl this year.  How’d that happen if you have to be at least 6-6, you ask?  Well, first off, there were a couple of 5-7 teams that got bowl invitations because there weren’t enough 6-win teams to play in the Ty-D-Bol in Bismarck in January.  (OK, Curmie made that one up, but a baker’s dozen bowl teams ended the season with losing records.)  More frequently, teams became eligible by beating up on the Little Sisters of the Poor.  Those games count towards the necessary six victories, even though no rational person think that a win over Chattanooga or UT-Martin means much to a major conference team.

And some of the games are played in ridiculous locations.  Memphis got a bowl game on their own field this year.  That’s absurd enough, but imagine playing for Georgia State and having a decent year.  Your reward: playing in a 2/3 empty outdoor stadium in Boise in late December.  Or you’re SMU, finish the regular season ranked in the top 25, and get to play in a 2/3 empty baseball stadium in Boston.  Against Boston College.  In late December.  In the morning, Eastern time.  Or, frankly, if you’re any team in about any bowl game that nobody has ever heard of, which is to say most of them.

The biggest problem in these terms, however, was the number of players who “opted out” of their bowl games.  This year’s Heisman Trophy winner, Jayden Daniels of LSU, didn’t play.  Neither did last year’s Heisman winner, Caleb Williams of USC.  Ohio State lost their bowl game in part because their starting quarterback and their top receiver (the leading Heisman vote-getter other than quarterbacks) opted out.  Curmie’s beloved Jayhawks played without their best offensive lineman and their best defensive lineman. 

The list goes on and on.  The biggest story, though, was Florida State.  The Seminoles had a reasonable case (see below) that they should have been in the four-team playoff for the national title, but when they didn’t make the cut, players abandoned ship en masse.  Over 30 players, including their top three receivers, best running back, and backup quarterback (their starter was actually injured, so he has an excuse) opted out to enter either the NFL draft or the transfer portal.  Playing a bunch of second- and third-stringers, FSU was crushed by 60 points in the Orange Bowl (oops… sorry) the Capital One Orange Bowl by Georgia, who also had a lot of opt-outs, but nowhere near as many really important ones. 

Curmie is old enough to remember when playing for the team mattered, when a bowl victory, even if “only” a regular bowl game, especially a New Year’s Day game, mattered.  Hell, people two generations younger than Curmie can remember that.  Not anymore.  Particularly despicable are the players—including both Jayhawks mentioned above—who opted out of their team’s bowl game but will play in one of those inane all-star games that will happen over the next couple of weeks.  Guess what: you can get injured in one of them, too.

OK, so about Florida State’s plaint.  One of the big questions about how the playoff teams are chosen is whether the committee was looking for the four best teams or the four most deserving teams.  They managed to choose neither.  Two of the four best teams—Michigan and Alabama—made the cut.  The other two would be Georgia and Ohio State.  The former was the #1 team in the country before losing to Alabama by a single score in the SEC title game; the latter was relegated to #7 (!) because they lost by a single score on the road against the ultimate #1 team.  But they happen to be in the same division of the same conference as Michigan, so they didn’t even compete for the league title, even though they were one of the best four teams in the country.  And “the committee” places a ridiculous amount of emphasis on being a conference champion.  Except, of course, when they don’t care at all (see: FSU).

You want to make a case for Texas?  Curmie will listen.  After all, it took a remarkably stupid strategy by Auburn’s defensive coordinator to keep Bama from picking up a second loss, but picking the Longhorns over the Tide solely because they won a head-to-head game early in the season is downright silly.  Let’s play that game a little further.  Texas lost to Oklahoma, who lost to Kansas, who lost to Texas Tech, who lost to Wyoming… anybody wanna say Wyoming should have been in the playoff?  Texas beat Alabama before the latter had figured out their quarterback situation.  That single game should matter, but not much if the goal is getting the best teams.

More to the point, the committee’s logic is inconsistent.  They claim they want the best teams, but they went with TCU last year.  TCU was one of the four most deserving teams, but not one of the best.  Washington wasn’t one of the best teams this year, either, but they were at least deserving, since they went undefeated and won their conference title game.  Of course, so did Florida State, who beat a ranked Louisville team by double digits on a neutral site behind a third-string quarterback (the second-stringer would have been available for a playoff game).  But with the third-stringer, they “didn’t look like they could win the national title.”  In other words, what’s happening right now is what matters, unless we’re talking about Texas and Alabama, in which case what matters is what happened in early September. 

Curmie could go on, put he’ll spare you, Gentle Reader.

In Part Two: some solutions.

Academic Freedom: What It Is and Isn't

One of the essential tenets of philosophical Taoism is the notion of the yin and the yang: that idea that opposites define each other. There can be no light without a concept of dark, no male without female, no strength without weakness, and so on. Indeed, a room, for example, is defined both by its boundaries rather than itself, and by the relative size of the nothingness it contains. I have, of course, been reminded of this concept this spring in teaching a course in Asian theatre, but recent events have called it to the forefront of my mind.

Specifically, I’ve been contemplating the concept of academic freedom in these terms: that is, for it to exist, it must also not exist. In other words, there must be activities which it covers and, importantly, activities it does not—I can discuss ideas and even express opinions without fear of losing my job over it (or at least I can do so since having been tenured), but that doesn’t mean I can do whatever the hell I want in my classroom. For one thing, as the Renaissance humanists as well as the Taoist sages made clear, there is no freedom without restraint: it is ontologically impossible for me to have freedom to punch you in the nose and simultaneously for you to be free from being thus punched. Moreover, in the specific context of academic freedom, since my freedom would be mere chaos without some boundaries, the imposition of those boundaries does not inherently abridge my rights, even if I disagree with the regulations in question.

Stanley Fish has an interesting opinion piece in today’s New York Times in which he looks at three recent cases in which the term “academic freedom” has been tossed around. As it happens, I’ve written about two of them, and come to pretty much the same conclusions as Fish (I should note that I seldom agree with Dr. Fish, at least to this extent): the brouhaha at the City University of New York about whether Tony Kushner would receive an honorary degree, and the Koch-funded gift to Florida State with a few too many strings attached.

On the former, here’s me:

I’ve been following the excellent coverage of George Hunka on this story, [who] makes the excellent point that “It is not a case of censorship or suppression…. Nor is it an attempt to render Kushner, his work and opinions invisible”…. the CUNY trustees generated their own personal tempest by being remarkably bone-headed.

And here’s Fish:

It was just the board screwing up with the predictable public-relations disaster as the result. No one’s freedom was curtailed, no one’s speech was censored, no harm, except to the board’s reputation and by extension to CUNY’s, was done.

On the Florida State case, me:

… the real blame attaches to David W. Rasmussen, the dean of the College of Social Sciences, who sees nothing wrong with selling out his program’s integrity: “it seems to me it would have been irresponsible not to do it.” No, sir, what is irresponsible is chasing after dollars, even a lot of them, at the expense of the university’s control over its own curriculum.

And Fish:

Rasmussen says he is “sure some faculty will say this is not exactly consistent with their view of academic freedom.” The implication is that “their view” is a minority view or an over-fastidious view, but the view that university hiring and firing procedures shouldn’t dance to the tune of an external constituency is absolutely mainstream and is the core of what academic freedom stands for.

There are two more cases, one of which I hadn’t heard about, but which Fish references. Quoting here:

In early March, Professor John Michael Bailey of Northwestern University invited a couple to perform a live sex-act in front of the students in his course on Human Sexuality. (Attendance at the presentation was optional.) The man brought the (naked) woman to orgasm with the help of a device with a name this newspaper will not print.

Bailey defended himself by saying that such “events” provide “useful examples and extensions of concepts students learn about in traditional academic ways.” This statement amounts to acknowledging that the live-sex demonstration was outside the boundaries of academic practice (Bailey might respond that he was stretching the envelope) and it’s an easy step to conclude that it is not protected by academic freedom, by an instructor’s freedom to bring into a class whatever materials he thinks appropriate so long as they serve a legitimate pedagogical end. Bailey claims the live-sex demo did serve such an end because it was an extension of one of his course’s main themes, the diversity of sexual experience.

OK, give me a fucking break. (Or, same words, different order: Give me a break! Fucking?) You cannot convince me that this little escapade had anything whatsoever to do with a legitimate course function. It was voyeurism in the cause of professorial popularity/edginess/whatever, and nothing else. Therefore, as Professor Fish points out, it’s not covered by academic freedom, because “academic freedom is for academic activities and not for everything that happens to go on in a university building.”

No, re-assigning this prof to other courses is not a suppression of free speech, a violation of academic freedom, or anything like that. It is, in fact, a gift. He should simply have been fired. And whereas it is silly not to offer the course in the upcoming year based on the fact that it was once taught by a charlatan, putting the class on hold for a year neither disrespects the subject matter nor violates any tenets of appropriate academic conduct. Those who say otherwise, in Fish’s words, “are behaving as so many in the Kushner controversy did; they are crying academic freedom whenever a university does something they don’t like, and by doing so, they cheapen the concept.”

Finally, we come to a case Fish doesn’t mention. This is the episode at two University of Missouri campuses at which Judy Ancel (Kansas City) and Don Giljum (St. Louis) team-teach via electronic interaction a course in labor studies. The ever-despicable Andrew Breitbart (guess what?) deceptively edited some tapes he had no right to have access to in the first place, and smeared the two faculty members as advocates of violence. (There’s a good demonstration of the specifics here.) But, as I said in linking to the just-mentioned video clip on the Curmudgeon Central Facebook page,

This isn't about Andrew Breitbart being a pathological liar. We knew that. It's about a university system believing in a thoroughly discredited, ultra-partisan, utterly immoral dirtbag like Breitbart over their own faculty until it was proved AGAIN that Breitbart would have to evolve to be pond scum, and that they were innocent of his accusations.

Given the fact that it appears Mr. Giljum was pressured into offering his resignation ("conditionally," whatever that means), it certainly appears that the Mizzou hierarchy panicked first and asked questions later.

More importantly, there are a host of legitimate scenaria whereby a professor might advocate (or pretend to advocate) violence, just as there are a host of legitimate scenaria whereby a law school professor might construct a hypothetical story about killing his dean. There might be a comparison to the perceived need for violence among some members of the civil rights movement, or the Irish Republican Army, or even the colonial militias of the American Revolution. Or maybe the prof just wants someone in that class to argue that violence isn’t the answer: a little engagement in an issue can go a long way.

But even if a professor really was arguing that violence is “just another tactic,” as it was for someone quoted by Professor Ancel (hence the “matter-of-factness” complained about by right-wing bloggers), I’d argue that such an assertion is precisely what academic freedom is designed to protect: provided, of course, that the course instructors do not require their students to agree with their conclusions. I offer my opinions all the time in class; most of the time, I reiterate that opinions are different than facts. Sometimes I don’t. But, significantly, I know where the weak points of my own point of view are: I often tell students that agreeing with me for all the right reasons is probably good for a B+. If you want an A, you’d better disagree with me for the right reasons.

But what I do in my classroom isn’t completely relevant, although I suspect that I’m not the only faculty member in the country who wonders whether today is the day that some student will show up in my class with a grudge, a recording device, and access to editing equipment. What matters here is that MU officials did backflips to accommodate Andrew freaking Breitbart, whose ethical transgressions on case after case after case are so egregious that Glenn Beck’s website feels compelled to point out his deceptive editing. An administration with the courage of a particularly nervous rabbit would tell him and his minions to take a long walk on a short pier. But, of course, they’re as craven as high school principals.

So: even if Ancel and Giljum did what they were accused of doing, their administration should have backed them up. But, given the source, it would be a reasonable surmise that Breitbart was lying (roughly as reasonable a surmise as that the sun will rise in the east tomorrow). The university, however, investigated them anyway, and dangled at least Mr. Giljum out to dry in the process. Now that’s a violation of academic freedom.

Today’s scoreboard, then:

Number of universities looking stupid: 4

Number of violations of academic freedom: 2

(EDIT: An interesting and provocative piece by Jack Marshall on the Northwestern case in particular, posted within an hour of this one, can be seen here.)

Koch Whore

So, apparently it is just coming to light that our friend Charles Koch (or, rather, his foundation) gave $1.5 million a couple of years ago to Florida State University. He and his equally rich and therefore Libertarian (though not, of course, really small-l libertarian) brother are particular bogeymen of the left, as pure an incarnation of evil to Rachel Maddow as George Soros is to Glenn Beck.

There is no question, however, that the Koch brothers are quite the philanthropists, and not merely to right-wing, Tea-Partyish, causes. But whereas David supports everything from hospitals (especially cancer centers) to natural history museums to Lincoln Center, Charles’s largesse tends to be more ideologically inspired: the Institute for Humane Studies at George Mason University, for example, “assists undergraduate and graduate students worldwide who have an interest in individual liberty”; it doesn’t require a genius to understand what that means when the poetry is removed. Charles, in other words, likes to attach strings.

According to Ray Bellamy and Kent S. Miller, respectively a faculty member in the College of Medicine and professor emeritus of psychology at Florida State, in an opinion piece on Tallahassee.com (and apparently on the pages of the Tallahassee Democrat), that’s precisely what happened in 2008:

In 2008, the [Charles G. Koch Charitable] foundation signed a memorandum of agreement with FSU in which they committed to a proposed budget of $6.5 million over a period of six years, with most of the effort to be located in the economics department. The provisions called for the hiring of five professors and other staff; establishing a program for the Study of Political Economy and Free Enterprise (SPEFE) and a program for Excellence in Economic Education (EEE); and the development of educational programs for undergraduate students.

A careful reading of the memorandum reveals a number of strings attached to the "gift."

• In order to preserve and safeguard the philanthropic and educational intent of the CGK Foundation … an advisory board will be created consisting of three members … chosen by CGK Foundation.

• The three senior professors must come in with tenure, and FSU must continue to fund them for at least four years past the project period.

• The Advisory Board of SPSFC and EEE is allowed to review all publicly provided material submitted by applicants for the Professorship positions.

• The Advisory Board will determine which candidates qualify to receive funding.

• No funding for a professorship position or any other affiliated program or position will be released without the review and approval of the Advisory Board.

• An undergraduate program will be devised and funded for $30,000 per year for three years. The committee responsible for the program will report to the Advisory Board.

Other strings spell out the right of the CGK Foundation to annually review the work of funded professors, publications, publicity, etc., and to pick up their marbles and go home if not satisfied.

Not surprisingly, the two academics “see all of this as seriously damaging to academic freedom.”

A subsequent article by Kris Hundley of the St. Petersburg Times reports that “During the first round of hiring in 2009, Koch rejected nearly 60 percent of the faculty's suggestions but ultimately agreed on two candidates.”

It is not uncommon for donors to specify conditions. Hell, when I send a check to my grad school alma mater, I specify that half go the College of Fine Arts and half to the Graduate School. I’m fully aware that the university will probably simply distribute more funds from other sources to the Business School and the Athletics Department, but it makes me feel as if I’m really contributing to something I believe in. I’m willing to go along with the charade, in other words.

Of course, when the checks have a few more zeroes than mine do, the demands can be greater: name a scholarship or a building or an entire program after me, make me a trustee, give me courtside tickets to see the basketball team play. All these are reasonable, at least up to a point, but when donors start dictating curriculum or personnel, it’s time to say “no.” And that’s not at all uncommon: I used to teach at a college that rejected what would have been a huge amount of money by local standards from a donor engaged in a perfectly legal business, but one of which the college disapproved (a brewery). More relevantly, Yale University returned $20 million (in early ‘90s dollars) to an alumnus who… wait for it… wanted to have veto power over professor hirings. Gary Fryer, Yale’s director of public information at the time, described such a condition as “unheard of,” saying “We would never accept a gift with that condition.”

There may be some disagreement about whether such ethical qualms still widely exist less than a generation later: Hundley quotes Jennifer Washburn, the author of University Inc., as describing the situation at Florida State as “truly shocking” and “an egregious example of a public university being willing to sell itself for next to nothing.” (Is it really the pricetag that bothers her?) But the same article also notes that similar arrangements to the one at Florida State have been made with Clemson and West Virginia Universities.

So… you’re probably waiting for me to launch into a protracted denunciation of Charles Koch. Ain’t gonna happen, at least this time. Do I think he’s a major cause of this country’s ills? Yes, I do. Evil? Could be. Responsible for this brouhaha? Not really. True, he bears some secondary responsibility. But the real blame attaches to David W. Rasmussen, the dean of the College of Social Sciences, who sees nothing wrong with selling out his program’s integrity: “it seems to me it would have been irresponsible not to do it.” No, sir, what is irresponsible is chasing after dollars, even a lot of them, at the expense of the university’s control over its own curriculum. This isn’t a question of whether we believe in the Kochs’ libertarianism; the situation would be unchanged if it were George Soros or Michael Moore or Barack Obama who was granted a measure of influence a legitimate university cannot surrender.

Nor is it relevant that the university apparently hired qualified people—if someone other than an officially constituted university search committee or the appropriate administrators had any say in the hiring process, it’s an enormous problem of professional ethics. It’s bad enough that there are those who regard a university degree as a commodity, with students as consumers and different programs competing to offer a product instead of regarding students as clients receiving a service provided by skilled professionals. But when the university itself can be bought, that’s a cataclysm.

Charles Koch may have been pushing the ethics envelope a little in asking for this kind of control. But, as I said in a different context, “the Koch brothers may exercise far too much influence…, [but] they do so because the rest of us let them.” Asking does no harm if the response is “no, thanks.” Mr. Koch is merely the john. It’s Mr. Rassmussen who’s the whore. In this particular case, a Koch whore.