The
two-year-old saga about rich people trying to buy their kids’ way into high-toned
colleges now is playing out in the courts, with predictable results. A number
of the 50 or so people charged with giving or receiving bribes have pleaded
guilty and been handed prison sentences measured in months instead of years. It’s
no news that our courts treat upper-class criminals more kindly than less-favored
ones, and the trials now in progress in Boston should have similar outcomes.
The
connection with sports is that most of the finagling that was done involved
phony athletic credentials that allowed bribe-getting coaches to sneak
academically unqualified aspirants past their school’s admissions officers.
This is a familiar feature of American academe, so familiar it has a name--
“side-dooring.” That entrance portal is available to jocks of many stripes with
no criminal involvement. Ivy League schools routinely bend their admissions
standards to improve their teams and so do other NCAA members that claim not to
award athletics scholarships. That also goes for our national military
academies, which additionally will arrange prep-school rides for the
athletically talented who haven’t made the grade in high school.
It’s
been noticed by some that the Government minions behind the current
prosecutions had to stretch to identify a victim in the frauds. That issue also
arose in a 2018 episode in which an FBI “sting” operation netted some coaches
and middlemen for funneling under-the-table money from the shoe-company Adidas to
A-level basketball recruits being wooed by schools affiliated with the company.
The immediate parties in that one (the kids, coaches and Adidas) all stood to
benefit from the schemes so it was decided that the universities involved had
been defrauded, even though their coffers would have swelled had they succeeded
in landing the kids in question. If they were capable of doing so, prosecutors
might have blushed advancing that theory.
College-sports revenues didn’t much
come into play in the present cases because its side-door portals were connected
to such “minor” (i.e., non-revenue) sports as tennis, soccer and water polo.
That was because sought-after football and basketball recruits tend to be so
well known that unfamiliar names can’t be slipped into the mix. In the minor
sports admissions people tend to take the word of coaches for who should and
shouldn’t be given special treatment, thus opening the way to manipulations.
About
$25 million was said to have changed hands in the deals, funneled through
William “Rick” Singer, a former basketball coach who ran a firm that facilitated
college enrollments. One of his biggest conduits was Rudy Meredith, a one-time
soccer coach at Yale who pocketed $400,000 in one admissions scheme and lined
up $450,000 in another before investigators stepped in.
But while corrupt coaches got most of
the money some went to the supposedly victimized schools. A case in point involved
Stanford U and John Vandemoer, its former sailing coach. A September 27 story
in the New York Times, by Billy Witz, tells how Vandemoer turned over to the
university the $770,000 he received from Singer to help gain entry for two
students. The story said he pocketed nothing but was fired nonetheless and
spent a day in jail and six months in house arrest after a felony guilty plea for
racketeering conspiracy he says he entered because he couldn’t stand the
expense of a criminal trial.
Putting aside the question of why
any university save the Naval and Coast Guard academies needs a sailing team,
the episode sheds light on the role in the bigger college-sports picture of men’s
non-revenue sports and just about all of those for women. Begun to create
recreational outlets for students, they now are maintained in part to enable
the big-timers to claim they’re not just football or basketball factories. They
survive because of small but dedicated alumni factions and, since the 1972
enactment of the so-called Title IX, the need to satisfy a government requirement
that women and men have equal access to athletics scholarships.
Except for a few places like Eugene, Oregon
(for track and field) and Iowa City, Iowa (wrestling), the teams don’t pay
their own way and depend on various kinds of charity to continue. They live
precarious existences, always waiting for the axe to fall in the next economy
wave. Revenue losses from Covid-19 brought wholesale slaughter to the
minor-sport ranks; by one published tally 35 NCAA Division I schools alone cut
112 such teams between January and June of this year.
The Times story made clear the ties
between Singer and the august institution in Palo Alto, California. It said
that when Vandemoer turned over one Singer check for $500,000 to Bernard Muir,
Stanford’s athletics director, he was met with warm congratulations. When the
coach tried to explain the source of the money Muir cut him off, saying “we
know Rick.” The piece said Singer was known to other Stanford coaches and
sometimes entered Vandemoer’s office unannounced even though a key card was
needed for access to the athletics-department building. Stanford’s “side door” also
included a front door, it seemed.
The list of colleges with which
Singer did business was long, also including Georgetown, the U. of Texas, UCLA,
Cal Berkeley and Southern Cal. One female student he “helped” was a family
friend of a USC trustee. Far from being victims of the frauds, the universities
involved were beneficiaries. The corruption that sustains their entertainment enterprises
runs deep. At the least it should spur Congress to take a critical look at the
tax-free status their athletics revenues enjoy.
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