It could be considered a collision at the intersection of Utopia and Reality, the place where cold, hard facts impose their will upon idealism.
The University of Washington is preparing for a major overhaul of Husky Stadium. Fortunately, this time the plan does not include public funding. The renovation, expected to cost $250 million, will include the demolition and reconstruction of one side of the stands, elimination of a track around the field, and adding suites and loge boxes.
In short, the construction will bring Husky Stadium into the 21st century, and the importance of that for those who desire a championship team should not be overlooked. One of the keys to the University of Oregon’s ascension in college football has been the construction of world-class training facilities, locker rooms, and academic complexes for athletes.
Yet in a small way, Washington’s proposal highlights the disconnect colleges face when constructing winning athletic programs. The “Dawg Pack,” UW’s rabid section of student rooters, is being cast out of its longtime home in some of Husky Stadium’s choicest seats.
Students at Husky games typically have occupied sections on either side of the 50-yard line near the field. But no more. The renovation plans will move the students to behind one of the end zones.
In an ideal world, Washington’s student fans would be allowed to sit where their predecessors did, helping to create new generations of supporters who, presumably, will someday become deep-pocketed boosters.
But that’s where reality comes in.
As a release from university officials stated: “Without a move of the student section, the renovation is simply not possible from a financial standpoint.”
To its credit, after a misguided-but-brief effort to entice the Legislature to pay for the renovation, Washington is funding the project through private donations and expected increased stadium revenue. That need for increased revenue is what necessitates the relocation of the students.
Because college football, for all of the Joe College enthusiasm it generates, remains a cold, hard business. Wins and losses are a function of dollars and cents as much as they are a result of training and coaching.
The acolytes will tell you that a winning football team can generate revenue that helps pay for other sports at a university, can create positive publicity, and can help drive an increase in applications from potential students. The truth often is overstated. As economist Andrew Zimbalist told The Columbian in 2001: “If they have a very successful football team, applications tend to go up. The increased applications, however, tend to be from the bottom of the heap. They don’t allow the school to become more selective in admissions.”
But that cannot negate the fact that there are positives to be gleaned from a winning football program. For the schools that compete at the highest level of athletics, there likely is no better public-relations avenue than a notable victory on the field of play.
(Not to mention the fact that Washington supporters are chaffing under the collar over Oregon’s recent prominence on the national stage. UW athletic director Scott Woodward recently said in a fit of jealousy, “It’s an embarrassment what their academic institution is, and what’s happened to them as far as their state funding has gone.” He later apologized.)
So, yes, the reality is that college sports, particularly football, are an arms race. And if Washington is determined to compete, it needs to improve its stockpile.
Whether or not that arms race enriches us as a society or enhances our academic institutions is a discussion for another time. Because for now, the sad current reality has more to do with how a university is perceived than how it treats its current students.
