Northwestern football players are petitioning the National Labor Relations Board for permission to form a union. Marc Tracy doesn’t see why not:
If the purpose of college is “an education,” then why in some cases do student-athletes have part or all of their tuition paid for on the explicit condition that they play sports? And if they are not professionals, then why the—what do you call it?—extracurricular activity that requires extensive travel, 40-plus hour weeks, and considerable risk to future earning potential? And if they are not being paid for that—if that tuition shouldn’t count as payment and their participation is in fact “voluntary”—then why allow that tuition to be offered in the first place? What is it even being offered for?
But Jonathan Mahler points out that the players don’t want wages, at least not yet:
The players aren’t actually asking for much. Their “demands,” laid out on the website of the National College Players Association, include making college football safer by limiting contact at practices and adding independent concussion experts at games. They want schools to pay medical expenses related to sports-related injuries. They want athletic scholarships to cover the full costs of attending college, not just tuition but also expenses such as laundry or going home for vacation. They want a small percentage of the huge sums generated by college sports to be invested in continuing education for athletes who go pro before graduating.
He thinks the NCAA should jump at the deal:
College sports are a multi-billion dollar business. If the athletes who make it popular and lucrative — after spending countless hours training, traveling and playing — aren’t “employees,” then what does the word mean? There is growing scientific evidence about the dangers of football, yet the young men who fill their schools’ stadiums and coffers, selling branded merchandise and ensuring generous TV contracts, shouldn’t be given medical coverage and insured against long-term disability as the groundskeepers and athletic directors and coaches are?
Hampton Stevens worries about unintended consequences, noting that pay-for-play can’t be far behind:
How, for instance, would those in charge go about splitting the money? Should players at Alabama and Texas get paid more because their programs generate more revenue? Would starters get paid more than benchwarmers, or does everyone on the roster deserve the same rate? Should a player’s pay be based on performance year-to-year? After all, if college athletes want the benefits of professionalism, they must also expect the drawbacks—like losing salary because of sub-par performance.
What about basketball players, who similarly produce big bucks for everyone but themselves? Don’t they deserve a union, too? What about sports that don’t produce revenue? Surely swimmers and volleyball players should also have their scholarships protected. And let’s not even get started on the Title IX implications. The legal requirement for gender equality adds yet another layer of bewildering complexity.
John Culhane considers that snowball effect as well:
[A] decision in favor of the Northwestern players will likely explode throughout college football. A tipping point will be reached once enough teams are represented by unions. When that happens, it will be much harder for every school—and the NCAA—to resist meeting players’ reasonable demands, even if players at some universities will be forbidden from unionizing. What elite player will want to attend, say, Oklahoma, if he’s assured of post-career health care at Notre Dame? Top-tier college programs will have to cough up benefits if they want to compete with their football brethren.
The Dish 