You'll Get Nothing and Like It: The NCAA Keeps It Real
Posted Sep. 4 at 7:00 am by Damon AgnosOregon’s blowout of Washington might have been worse had Oregon offensive tackle Fenuki Tupou been allowed to play. But thanks to a Moons Over My Hammy and five Andrew Jacksons, he found himself on the wrong side of the NCAA’s gerrymandered line of sporting purity.
Tupou had a meal with a representative of LMM Sports Management—a particularly cheap representative, at that. The rep paid for a $10 meal and included five $20 bills in their parting handshake. (Side note: seriously, dude—I get that maybe you were testing the waters, but this is the high-rolling with which you tempt your prospective clients? What’s next—making it rain arcade tokens?)
Recognizing that he’d broken the rules, Tupou tried in vain to return the money. But that meal couldn’t be undone, and the upright folks at the NCAA handed down the one-game suspension. The money will go to charity. (Apparently, NCAA President Myles Brand felt that his salary—he’s paid roughly $900,000 a year to decry the emphasis on winning over grades in his multi-billion dollar industry, and to make sure that the athletes people pay to see don't see any of the money—didn’t need the supplement.)
For that game that Tupou missed over a $10 meal, Oregon coach Mike Belotti was paid around $80,000. The Oregon players wore Nike swooshes on their jerseys as a result of the school’s sponsorship deal with the athletic apparel company, whose founder, Phil Knight (at whose pleasure Oregon coaches serve) has donated upwards of $100 million to Oregon athletics. (Industries insiders refer to these sponsorships and logo placements as the NCAA's nascent NASCAR strategy.) And, of course, the fine folks at Fox Sports pulled in a healthy sum on the advertising spots they sold for the broadcast.
So, keep your head up, Fenuki. You missed one game, but there’s eleven more, plus a bowl game. And, fortunately, none of the white guys in the suits lost much money on your absence. (Phew!) Now it’s time to buckle down, because those guys aren’t just going to pay themselves. (Well, actually, they are—but you have to make the money first.) So the next time someone offers you a slice of the pie that your blood, sweat, and bankrupted future health helped create, you just say no thanks...and go out there and win one for the Gipper!
