Faculty at Berkeley have done some detective work in the wake of massive system-wide budget cuts that include pay reductions for faculty and reduced academic services--and have discovered a surprising fact. The athletics program--felt there, as at many schools, to be a self-sustaining entity that encourages alumni donations and brings in money and support for the school--is actually a major drain on the university's resources. While the football program is profitable, most other sports are not--and to maintain them, the university subsidizes the athletics department to the tune of millions a year. At various points in recent history, even the subsidies have not been enough, and Cal's athletics program has run up millions in debt. Needless to say, that debt does not get paid.

Berkeley faculty are publicizing the economics of Cal's NCAA Division I programs--and demanding, at the very least, that the athletics arm of the university be compelled to be self-sustaining. At a time when tempers are running high about what kinds of cuts get made (UC faculty walked out a few weeks ago to protest the administration's decision to tithe them while still maintaining absurd executive payrolls and other vast expenses), this is a compelling argument on its face.

But there are some issues. For example, I wonder what will happen when we factor Title IX into this mix. You can't have the profitable men's sports without having comparable numbers of women athletes, whose sports are not profitable. So the situation quickly becomes sticky. Do you nix football? Or squeeze football so you can use its profits to pay for women's soccer and softball? Does football keep its own profits--but only as long as other sports can raise their own funds? And what would that involve? Hiring sport-specific development officers? Selling cookies door to door? How, also, do you account for the fact that it's the minor sports, the ones that don't make any money, that tend to be filled with the scholar-athletes that were the original impetus for college sports in the first place? These kids study hard, do their sport, and graduate. Their sport enriches their lives and those of the comparably few fans it brings out. Unlike college football players, who often seem to me to be barely literate pseudo-students for whom the undergrad years are a semi-pro training ground designed to prepare them for the NFL, cross country runners, rowers, and the like may well be more "pure" exemplars of the ideal of intercollegiate sport.

Add to this: scholarships for these sports can be the chance disadvantaged kids need to get a college education. If that logic is a joke in football, it's very real in other sports. When I was growing up, for example, I played fastpitch softball. My summer traveling team brought together girls from all over the city, some from seriously broken homes or impoverished backgrounds. Many of these girls went on to college because of the grounding--and economic support--that the sport gave them. They studied hard, played their hearts out, graduated, and had opportunities their parents never did. So, there is an academic role to be played by college sports programs, if they are handled right.

It's fascinating to me to see the question of college sports financing coming to a head at Berkeley. Once upon a time, I myself was a Cal Bear--in the fall of 1986, I actually went to Berkeley on a full athletic scholarship for fastpitch softball. It was a dream come true, it financed my fantasy of attending college out of my home state, and it was no joke, athletically or academically. Our academic work was taken just as seriously as our athletic work, and while, even in the off season, we spent 17 hours per week on the field, not including running and weightlifting, we were also required to attend study hall every night. The coach kept track of our grades, and if anyone needed tutoring, or to be excused from practice to attend a lab, or similar, those things were the top priority. Everyone graduated, and many went on to get higher degrees in law and other fields. The year before I arrived, Cal had placed third in the national championships. So this was a team that had found a balance between academics and athletics; excellence in both were required.

As it happened, my own dream of being a scholar-athlete didn't pan out. By the end of the first semester, I had a 4.0--and a whopping case of training-induced anemia. Between that and my growing realization that I was not likely ever to be able to compete at this level (no amount of training put on the muscle I needed, or made me fast enough, or made me learn quickly enough), I left the team and devoted myself to just being any old college student. It was the right choice for me, and I treasure my memories of studying at Berkeley--but for other girls, that team was the experience of a lifetime, and a means of getting an education they might not otherwise have gotten.

So I have mixed feelings about college sports, as, I imagine, many people do. Is the ultimate solution just to decouple schooling and sports entirely--at every level of our educational system? I've wondered about that--certainly, growing up, the best teams my brother and I played on were not those sponsored by our schools.

All of this is to say that I am delighted Berkeley professors have launched a debate. I am glad that debate is emanating from concerns about costs, debt, and sustainability--it's content neutral, unimpeachable, and can serve as a starting ground for sorting out the murkier issues of corruption, exploitation, and excess that surround big time college sports, and tarnish the reputations of the small time ones.