Though debate persists about its origins, the phrase “Ivy League” is usually traced to sports. Coined by a Boston journalist in the early 1930’s, the expression first referred to a loose coalition of amateur football programs, all of which hailed from the northeast region of the country. Falling to reinterpretation over the years, the name has taken on fresh meanings; today, strung with high-flown notions of elitism and prestige, the title widely characterizes the private institutions of learning that share a long and idealized past of academic achievement.
Despite this evolution of the term’s definition, athletics and its evolving role on college campuses has continued to shape and even disrupt the reputation of the Ancient Eight. Last spring, the implication of many Harvard athletes in a nationally publicized cheating scandal called into question the driving mentality behind recruiting in the conference. At the crux of the issue is whether these universities can appeal to talented, well-qualified candidates – in both the athletic and academic sense – while still maintaining the integrity of a rigid selection process.
In an escalating number of cases, varsity athletes in the Ivy League are choosing to quit prior to the end of their senior season adding a new dimension to the ‘athlete question.’ In an era of more aggressive recruiting practices, the Ivy League must work to retain its athletes while simultaneously reducing the stigma surrounding quitting. To balance these objectives, administrations must first narrow their search by recruiting character. They must then move the dialogue away from the mistakes or manipulations that may have occurred during the recruiting process, for it is the unforeseen aspects of a player’s experience that seem to weigh more heavily on these players’ decisions to quit.
A Coach’s Perspective
Drawing on more than twenty years of experience as head coach of the Harvard women’s volleyball team, Jennifer Weiss lists playing time, the desire to engage in other activities, and injuries as the top three reasons athletes quit. Over the last five years, she explains, programs including her own have grown increasingly competitive, vying not only to contend for an Ivy League championship, but also for recognition on the national stage. In response, coaches like Weiss have begun seeking out more top-tier performers to don Crimson-colored attire, many of which end up crowding the bench rather than the starting line. According to Weiss, several of the incomers stuck in this position find it “hard to embrace their role,” especially since most have been accustomed to contributing heavily to the success of their club and high school programs.
Due to the limited amount of spots Weiss has to fill, it is important for her to gauge what a recruit’s level of commitment might be a few years down the road, which she accomplishes during the scouting process. “I do appreciate the earlier time frame for recruiting because it gives you more time to develop a relationship with the player beforehand,” she explains. Regarding playing time, “It is the coach’s responsibility to be upfront early on,” relates Weiss. But to what extent is it the player’s responsibility to share his or her intentions? “How do you recruit character in twenty-four hours?” she asks, referring to the brief length of the unofficial visits potential recruits may take.
Issy Winder Davies, a sophomore on the Harvard women’s field hockey team, explains how on a high school visit, “both you and the coach are on their best behavior, so you have no idea realistically what the other is like…or whether you are going to like the way they train.” In her experience, due to an unanticipated coaching change, “the program [had] changed quite drastically” between the time Issy committed and the time she arrived for training. Neither players nor coaches, it appears, can form certain expectations about the future.
These dilemmas call into consideration the basis of recruiting in the League: namely, the refusal of these programs to offer any form of athletic aid to students. In contrast to many of their opponents nationwide, competitors at places like Brown or Yale may not receive a scholarship as a result of their inclusion in a team; in fact, they are barred from doing so per conference regulations. Instead of signing an NCAA National Letter of Intent, high school athletes signal their commitment through an informal verbal statement. While this pledge is assumed to extend for the four plus years ahead, these individuals are virtually free agents upon arriving as freshmen. Without any athletic money on the line, they fall under no contractual obligation to remain on their team’s roster.
“Putting a monetary value on it [playing] wouldn’t work here,” says Weiss, who finds the introduction of such incentives highly problematic. Associating the values of teamwork and collaboration with a broad, comprehensive education has long stood at the forefront of university policy.
Redefining the Problem
Raising accountability among the student-athlete community- not changing the policies already set in place- seems to be the real object of concern for the Ivy League. Strong athletic ability surely improved if not dramatically heightened these applicants’ chances of admission, regardless of other equally impressive credentials they may have in fact possessed. Should something be done to discourage recruits from breaking their side of the bargain?
Yet, the administration has little reason to believe that athletes are using their skill as a mere ticket in. Luke Walczewski reports that throughout his career as Assistant Director of Athletics he has never met with a student-athlete whose decision to leave a team was more or less premeditated. “Every kid I’ve talked to here wants to be a varsity athlete for his or her entire career,” he elaborates. Walczewski also remarks that Harvard has yet to conduct a comprehensive study of the retention rate of its athletes, though the administration may having interest in doing so in the future.
For now, he explains, Harvard confronts “the double-edged sword of admitting diversely talented people” during the interview portion of admissions process. During these sessions, interviewers ask recruits to take athletics out of the picture and to list alternative extracurriculars they would instead devote their time to if they could no longer participate on a team. This is how we “admit the full package,” says Walczewski.
The consequences of athletes turning in their jerseys may also be overstated. Weiss reports that many of her players who elected to quit, whether due to injury or for another reason, remained close friends with former teammates. Some even stayed with the program as managers or applied for student jobs in the athletic department. Still others joined another varsity team.
The Solution: Recruiting Character and Combatting Stigma
When assessing players’ motivations in quitting, more attention should be paid to the on-campus experience of the student-athlete. Less emphasis should be placed on how these players present themselves during the recruiting process, when uncertainty of what lies ahead is at its highest. Keeping nameplates on lockers and numbers on the field is more than a matter of detecting a player’s investment at the start; it’s a matter of giving them a reason to stay until the end.
We should, if these conditions are met, be less afraid of the athletes who leave their jerseys behind. By recruiting character, however difficult or broad a goal, coaches can increase the likelihood that regardless of the points they score, their athletes will positively contribute to the Harvard name. The less quitting is perceived as an ethical violation, the more inclined these students will be to make this contribution. And that is a win-win.