March madness is upon us, that time of year when college hoops fans want to just call in sick to work (or school), park their lazy butts on the couch, and watch basketball for 96 hours straight. (Call me guilty - I've been a Kentucky Wildcats and Louisville Cardinal fan since I was, well, born.)
It's also that time of year when big-mouthed, small-brained "experts" who think the world revolves around sweaty jock straps begin talking about those poor college athletes who make millions of dollars for their schools, receiving "only" a free college education and countless hours of television exposure and mass popularity in return, so can't we find out a way to pay these hard-working athletes for their troubles?
Idiotas.
Part of the reason why March Madness captivates so many people - as opposed to the NBA playoffs, which don't create anywhere near as much buzz - is that these games are played by kids who are still playing for the right reason: namely, the love of the game.
Reality check: I understand that a lot of these kids wind up being "one and done"s - case in point: my Kentucky Wildcats, who have lost at least two freshman to the NBA for each of the past three years - so I'm not blind to the fact that many of these kids have ulterior motives. Remember, though, that only 1.3% of Division I college basketball players will go pro.
Let's face it: watching kids celebrate a buzzer-beating jump-shot is far more exciting, far more pure, than watching a professional athlete who rakes in millions of dollars a year jumping for joy after his team wins a game. People who don't even watch professional basketball flock to the NCAA tournament in large pat because it rekindles our own passion for sports to watch student athletes exhaust themselves trying to win a game simply because they want to win, not because if they don't win they will have to fear for their jobs in the off-season. For all the money that is currently spent on the advertising and merchandising side of the tournament, the one part of the game that money has not influenced is the most important part: the players themselves.
Think how all of this would change, however, if some, or all, of these kids were actually paid a stipend simply because they were a Division I athlete. Right off the bat, the purity of the activity would be lost. Just the fact that they were getting paid at all would render my argument that they are "playing for the love of the game" a pretty suspect point. Once you start getting paid to do something, your perspective changes. Sure, I love to teach - but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like getting paid, too. Some days, you give 100% at your job just because you want to; other days, you give as much as you have to, because you don't feel like getting canned. That statement applies to everyone, everywhere, no matter what the job description is. Anyone who argues that the money would not change how college athletes approach the game is either lying, or is so naive he ought to be forced to donate every cent he earns to a charity until he realizes the value of getting paid.
More than that, think of how the balance of power would eventually shift if student athletes started getting paid. The NCAA tournament is so exciting because it's a win-or-go-home scenario: on any given night, any team can win. We all cheer when a Cinderella team like Butler takes mighty Duke to the wire of the championship game, or when VCU - VC who, as my wife asked - knocks off one big name school after the other. College basketball has its powerhouse programs - UNC, Kansas, Kentucky, Syracuse, UCONN, Duke, and so on - but all it takes is one injury, one bad night shooting, one genius coach with a risky gameplan, to send Goliath packing and keep David moving on. A big part of that is that there are a lot of good basketball players who choose not to go to the so-called powerhouses, either because they prefer to remain close to home, or because they know that they will get more playing time at a different school. Think about it: getting a free ride to SU is nice, but getting a free ride at a school where you would be a starter is even better. But what if money enters the equation? Suddenly, the starting time, scholarship and stipend of the smaller name school must be compared to the playing time, scholarship and stipend of the big name school, who just happens to have a lot more money to throw around. Unless the NCAA sets a flat rate that all schools must adhere to, you would find college basketball devolving into a game of "Who has the bigger budget?", with the schools with the most cash duking it out over the best players, leaving smaller schools with the scraps. Good-bye, competition!
To all you bums out there, then, who want to pay these kids to attend college and play a sport, I can only say this: sit back, shut up, and enjoy the tournament! It ain't broke, so stop trying to fix it.
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