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Maryland players gather at a No. 79 painted on the field in remembrance of offensive lineman Jordan McNair, who died after collapsing on a practice field during a spring practice, before an NCAA college football game against Illinois, Saturday, Oct. 27, 2018, in College Park, Md. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)
The University of Maryland, where I was a professor for six years, is embroiled in a football scandal that started with the tragic death of a young player, Jordan McNair, who died of heat stroke during practice. On an especially hot day in late May, the coaches were driving the players too hard, and when McNair collapsed, they failed to immerse him in cold water, which might have saved his life.
This past week, as the results of a 192-page inquiry were being leaked to the press, the university’s Board of Regents has been meeting this weekend to decide what actions to take. According to the Washington Post and the Baltimore Sun, the board is considering whether to fire the coach, DJ Durkin (who has been on administrative leave since early September), the president of U. Maryland, Wallace Loh, and the athletic director, Damon Evans.
The University of Maryland has made one mistake after another with its football program, as I’ve pointed out again and again. Let’s look at a timeline:
2010: in virtually his very first major decision as president, Wallace Loh approved the hiring of a new coach (Randy Edsall) and a $2 million payout to the old coach (Ralph Friedgen), who was pushed out a year early. This was at a time when the entire university system was in the midst of a 3-year hiring and salary freeze, which included unpaid furloughs (basically, pay cuts) for almost all employees. Not for football, though.
2011: UMD doubled down: in order to invest more in football, the university eliminated 8 other varsity sports, all of them sports that are healthy for students and that don’t carry any risk of permanent brain damage. Here’s what they cut: men’s cross-country, indoor track, outdoor track, men’s swimming and diving, men’s tennis, women’s acrobatics and tumbling, women’s swimming and diving, and women’s water polo. Loh’s argument at the time: "should we have fewer programs so that they can be better supported and, hence, more likely to be successful at the highest level? Or, should we keep the large number of programs that are undersupported compared to their conference peers?"
It pains me to read these words again. Is this what "successful" means for a major university? That its football team wins a few more games? Meanwhile, hundreds of students who played those other sports, all of which likely enriched their lives and their health, were left without teams.
2012: Maryland left the ACC, to which it had belonged for over 50 years, and joined the Big Ten conference, a move that was supposed to make more money. Never mind that it would require the players to travel much longer distances for games at other schools in the Big Ten. Never mind the $50 million exit fee to leave the ACC.
2015: Deja vu! Maryland football was still losing, so they fired the coach again, giving him a $4.7 million payout from state funds, to hire another new coach, DJ Durkin. The coach they fired, Randy Edsall, was the guy who was supposed to take the Terrapins "from good to great." That worked out well, didn’t it?
2017: How is that team doing, anyway? Overall record 4-8, tied for dead last in the Big Ten’s eastern division. What was it that president Loh said again about being successful at the highest level?
2018: Under coach DJ Durkin, a team practice on a very hot day causes the tragic death of a young player, Jordan McNair.
This slow-moving disaster illustrates what I’ve pointed out before:
- Universities have no business trying to run a big-time sports entertainment business–and make no mistake, that’s what NCAA Division I football is.
- They’re often very bad at it, as Wallace Loh and UMD have illustrated.
- Universities treat players as indentured servants: they refuse to pay the players for their work, and they often spit them out after four years without even providing a proper education. This undermines their core mission, which is educating and nurturing their students. (Read Taylor Branch’s compelling exposé in the Atlantic for much more on this topic.)
- Making matters even worse, we now know that there’s a serious risk that football players will suffer chronic traumatic encephalopathy later in life, a permanently disabling form of brain damage.
The bottom line: football is corrupting our universities, and it needs to go.
This doesn’t necessarily mean that fans must lose their favorite college teams. Here’s one possible solution.
Football fans, including state legislators and university administrators, like to claim that football makes a profit. Let’s suppose that’s true: then it will do just fine as an independent business. Get football out of the universities, and make it a privately-run minor league for the NFL (which it already is, in effect). Let each team pay fees for use of the university’s name, the stadium, practice fields, and parking on game days. Then the football club can pay its coaches whatever it wants, and it will have to pay the athletes, who are disgracefully paid nothing right now. And the university will still have its team, but without the corrupting influence of money. Even better, universities won’t have to pretend that they are providing a first-class education to the players, while padding their coffers at the players’ expense.
Let’s end the farce of having university presidents try to manage large, commercial sports programs. Let them get back to focusing on research and education, topics on which they actually have some expertise.
I’m not naive: I don’t think any major university is going to get rid of football any time soon, despite the growing evidence that football carries a major risk of brain damage to the players. This has only happened once, when the University of Chicago eliminated its football program in 1939, and brought it back in decades later as much-reduced program, now in NCAA Division III. The university itself has remained a powerhouse, routinely ranked in the top universities in the country academically.
Meanwhile, the Maryland Board of Regents is trying to decide what to do. If they read the timeline above, they’ll know what I think: get rid of the whole lot, including the football program, and get the university back to its real mission.
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Maryland players gather at a No. 79 painted on the field in remembrance of offensive lineman Jordan McNair, who died after collapsing on a practice field during a spring practice, before an NCAA college football game against Illinois, Saturday, Oct. 27, 2018, in College Park, Md. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)
The University of Maryland, where I was a professor for six years, is embroiled in a football scandal that started with the tragic death of a young player, Jordan McNair, who died of heat stroke during practice. On an especially hot day in late May, the coaches were driving the players too hard, and when McNair collapsed, they failed to immerse him in cold water, which might have saved his life.
This past week, as the results of a 192-page inquiry were being leaked to the press, the university’s Board of Regents has been meeting this weekend to decide what actions to take. According to the Washington Post and the Baltimore Sun, the board is considering whether to fire the coach, DJ Durkin (who has been on administrative leave since early September), the president of U. Maryland, Wallace Loh, and the athletic director, Damon Evans.
The University of Maryland has made one mistake after another with its football program, as I’ve pointed out again and again. Let’s look at a timeline:
2010: in virtually his very first major decision as president, Wallace Loh approved the hiring of a new coach (Randy Edsall) and a $2 million payout to the old coach (Ralph Friedgen), who was pushed out a year early. This was at a time when the entire university system was in the midst of a 3-year hiring and salary freeze, which included unpaid furloughs (basically, pay cuts) for almost all employees. Not for football, though.
2011: UMD doubled down: in order to invest more in football, the university eliminated 8 other varsity sports, all of them sports that are healthy for students and that don’t carry any risk of permanent brain damage. Here’s what they cut: men’s cross-country, indoor track, outdoor track, men’s swimming and diving, men’s tennis, women’s acrobatics and tumbling, women’s swimming and diving, and women’s water polo. Loh’s argument at the time: “should we have fewer programs so that they can be better supported and, hence, more likely to be successful at the highest level? Or, should we keep the large number of programs that are undersupported compared to their conference peers?”
It pains me to read these words again. Is this what “successful” means for a major university? That its football team wins a few more games? Meanwhile, hundreds of students who played those other sports, all of which likely enriched their lives and their health, were left without teams.
2012: Maryland left the ACC, to which it had belonged for over 50 years, and joined the Big Ten conference, a move that was supposed to make more money. Never mind that it would require the players to travel much longer distances for games at other schools in the Big Ten. Never mind the $50 million exit fee to leave the ACC.
2015: Deja vu! Maryland football was still losing, so they fired the coach again, giving him a $4.7 million payout from state funds, to hire another new coach, DJ Durkin. The coach they fired, Randy Edsall, was the guy who was supposed to take the Terrapins “from good to great.” That worked out well, didn’t it?
2017: How is that team doing, anyway? Overall record 4-8, tied for dead last in the Big Ten’s eastern division. What was it that president Loh said again about being successful at the highest level?
2018: Under coach DJ Durkin, a team practice on a very hot day causes the tragic death of a young player, Jordan McNair.
This slow-moving disaster illustrates what I’ve pointed out before:
The bottom line: football is corrupting our universities, and it needs to go.
This doesn’t necessarily mean that fans must lose their favorite college teams. Here’s one possible solution.
Football fans, including state legislators and university administrators, like to claim that football makes a profit. Let’s suppose that’s true: then it will do just fine as an independent business. Get football out of the universities, and make it a privately-run minor league for the NFL (which it already is, in effect). Let each team pay fees for use of the university’s name, the stadium, practice fields, and parking on game days. Then the football club can pay its coaches whatever it wants, and it will have to pay the athletes, who are disgracefully paid nothing right now. And the university will still have its team, but without the corrupting influence of money. Even better, universities won’t have to pretend that they are providing a first-class education to the players, while padding their coffers at the players’ expense.
Let’s end the farce of having university presidents try to manage large, commercial sports programs. Let them get back to focusing on research and education, topics on which they actually have some expertise.
I’m not naive: I don’t think any major university is going to get rid of football any time soon, despite the growing evidence that football carries a major risk of brain damage to the players. This has only happened once, when the University of Chicago eliminated its football program in 1939, and brought it back in decades later as much-reduced program, now in NCAA Division III. The university itself has remained a powerhouse, routinely ranked in the top universities in the country academically.
Meanwhile, the Maryland Board of Regents is trying to decide what to do. If they read the timeline above, they’ll know what I think: get rid of the whole lot, including the football program, and get the university back to its real mission.
