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Wednesday, September 25 Updated: September 26, 2:25 PM ET When scholarship athletes are taken for a ride By Tom Farrey ESPN.com |
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Jason Whitehead was stretched out on a hospital bed, his head held steady by a neck brace, his spine filled with new-age drugs designed to keep him from the same fate as actor Christopher Reeve, when the call came in from Ohio University football coach Brian Knorr. He had comforting news for Diane Pope, mother of the freshman defensive back who lay there, temporarily paralyzed.
That was in January 2001. Later, school officials would change their mind. Whitehead, medically disqualified from playing college football, was notified that moving forward, his scholarship would be cut roughly in half. Why? In part, because the school can. "It says right on the (scholarship) form that athletes sign that their financial aid is good only through the term of the letter" that ends each summer, said Ohio athletic director Thomas Boeh. It's one of the great myths of college sports, the notion of the full scholarship. Contrary to the impression athletes often pick up during the recruiting process, and sometimes reinforced by coaches who are loathe to state otherwise, a scholarship to a NCAA-affiliated school is good for only one year -- not the four or five years that it usually takes to graduate. The school has the option to renew an athlete's scholarship in one-year increments, for up to five years. But it can decline to continue that scholarship or reduce the amount of the financial aid for any reason, even if that athlete suffered a career-ending injury during a team workout, as was the case with Whitehead.
The athletes are supported in their effort by a couple loose-knit national organizations agitating for reform in college sports: the Drake Group, comprised of faculty members, and Collegiate Athletes Coalition, made up of athletes at 13 colleges who have the financial backing of the United Steelworkers of America. Representatives from those groups spoke at a Thursday news conference in Athens, Ohio. "There's no excuse for a school to renege on a commitment made during the recruiting process," CAC chairman Ramogi Huma said. "Until this matter is resolved at the NCAA level, every athlete participating in NCAA sports is vulnerable." The Drake Group got involved because it argues that the current system undermines the athletes' focus on class work, and potentially, the teams' graduation rates. "It's at the very core of the problem that we're facing with athletes' academics," said Allen Sack, a Drake Group member and business professor at the University of New Haven. "If you have one-year scholarships, you might as well admit that you're hiring athletes. The athletes have to produce on the field to keep their financial aid." When Sack played defensive end for Notre Dame in the 1960s, NCAA teams offered four-year scholarship grants. But that standard changed in 1973, when the NCAA began prohibiting schools from offering anything more than a series of one-year deals. Going back to the old way won't be easy. There's been "some discussion, no proposals and very little support" among the member schools to scrap the current system that allows a school to revisit its commitment to an athlete each year, said NCAA spokesman Wallace Renfro. "Like any scholarship, they're merit-based," Renfro said. "Standards have to be met in order for them to be renewed. If scholarships aren't renewable each year, there's no motivation for the athlete" to meet each school's expectations. The culture at most NCAA colleges is to renew the grants, especially for athletes who cannot play anymore due to injuries, Renfro said. That informal policy also typically applies to athletes who don't turn out to be good -- the classic recruiting mistakes. It's not just honor, but self-interest driving those decisions. A reputation for pulling scholarships can be a recruiting nightmare for a coach. "The old concept of badgering players to leave doesn't happen much because that player then goes home and shares his experience with the high school junior that everyone's recruiting," said Grant Teaff, executive director of the American Football Coaches Association. "It's just not good business."
At San Diego State, Steve Fisher terminated the scholarships of five players in 2000 after he took over the basketball program. Texas A&M football coach R.C. Slocum used the nature of the one-year scholarship as leverage last year, notifying receiver Jamaar Taylor that his grant had been pulled -- and the only way to get it back was to lose a lot of weight and improve his grades. He met those goals and regained his financial aid. In at least one case, an athlete sued a school after his scholarship was not renewed. Patrick McMillan, a top baseball prospect coming out of high school in 1993, sued Arizona after his financial aid was severed following his sophomore season. He contended that then-coach Jerry Kindall routinely over-recruited, then trimmed the roster of players who didn't live up to expectations. McMillan, claiming the coach violated verbal promises to renew his scholarship each year, reportedly settled out of court and the money he received helped him complete his degree requirements. At Ohio, cost prohibits the school from automatically renewing all scholarships for five years, Boeh said. The athletic department budget last year was $11 million, similar to that of other Mid-American Conference schools but less than what many schools have to work with. Only 15 of the 115 Division I-A schools have smaller budgets, he said. "We're in a non-BCS conference," Boeh said of the Bowl Championship Series, the format that spreads most of college football's bowl revenues among the NCAA's six largest conferences. "BCS schools probably get anywhere from $5 million to $9 million a year from television and other sources. We just don't have the access to the (money) that the Big Ten and other conferences have."
"I just feel betrayed," he said. "When I was playing, everything was fine. But when I stopped, I became nobody. They just took my money." Whitehead was injured shortly after the 2000 season, in which the Bobcats went 7-4 with upsets of Minnesota and Marshall. At a 6 a.m. workout during the team's winter drills in an indoor wrestling facility, a teammate, horsing around, picked up the 6-foot, 210-pound safety and slammed him into the matt, head first. Unable to move, Whitehead was flown by helicopter to a Columbus hospital for emergency surgery. There, two discs in his spine were repaired, and he began walking again within a week. But doctors immediately declared that Whitehead, who had played in every game his freshman season, should never step on the football field again. The school kept him on full scholarship for the rest of that year, and again the following year. But starting this year, the school agreed to pay only for his remaining tuition, worth about $6,300 a year, but declined to pick up the estimated $7,500 annual cost of room, board and books. Whitehead, who still suffers blood-circulation problems, said he now has to take out loans to cover the $15,000 shortfall for his two final years. Whitehead's cut in scholarship funds was due to a change in athletic department policy that applies to any injured athlete on scholarship, Boeh said. The new policy also affected Jon Clark, a tight end who had tried, but failed to come back from a knee injury before the 2000 season. "We offered both of them jobs helping with the videotaping of games, (jobs that) would have helped pay for their room and board," Boeh said. The players initially accepted the offer, each working about 100 hours this summer. But they quit those part-time jobs after the Florida game Sept. 14. "They wanted their room and board covered without any responsibility," Boeh said. Clark said they resigned because they never were paid. Boeh concedes the school still needs to cut them checks. However, Clark said, at this point it has become a matter of principle. After a financial-aid committee on campus denied their appeals in August, they became more motivated to change the new school policy for injured players.
Among the other Ohio athletes who have been affected by the policy is former volleyball player Bobbi-Joe Ohmer, who was lost after two shoulder surgeries in 2000. In a slightly different case, Dan Salmon, a former wrestler on partial scholarship, lost of all his money after suffering a hip injury; the school, in a statement, said "he no longer wanted to compete with pain" and voluntarily quit the team last October. Another football player, senior Charles Hollins, quit the team in August after being notified that the school would not entirely fund his final year of eligibility. Hollins had no injury or medical condition. Knorr, his head coach, said the tight end just wasn't good enough to earn a full, fifth year on scholarship. He had competed in one game the previous three seasons, after redshirting as a freshman. "In these times of state budget cuts, we need to make smarter consumer decisions," Knorr said. "Part of that is athletes developing themselves and becoming contributors." Whitehead said he understands the business aspect of college football, that the contractual relationship between an athlete and a school calls for a commitment on both sides. But he contends he has held up his end of the deal, and will feel the effects for years to come. "Just because I'm not making money for a school anymore doesn't mean I should be tossed aside," he said. "I put my body on the line for that school." Tom Farrey is a senior writer with ESPN.com. He can be reached at tom.farrey@espn3.com. |
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