Saturday, February 26, 2005
Don't bet on a big dip in gambling to follow NCAA wristband drive
By Kathleen Nelson
Of the Post-Dispatch
02/26/2005
Sports Columnist Kathleen Nelson
The hipsters at the NCAA would like to wish you a Happy Sports Wagering Awareness Day in a most trendy way.
They'll attempt to get their point across today, asking basketball coaches to don blue rubber wristbands that the NCAA distributed free of charge. Instead of Lance Armstrong's inspirational message LIVESTRONG, these bands sport the NCAA's mantra DON'T BET ON IT.
We understand that the NCAA wants to distance itself from gambling and is squeamish about the symbiotic relationship that has developed, especially as the NCAA Tournaments roll around with the office pools and heavy wagering they attract in sports books.
But the NCAA has missed the boat. First, the market already is flooded with blue wristbands touting a bevy of causes. A quick Google search revealed blue bands emblazoned with the following slogans:
*BEAT BULLYING
*TSUNAMI RELIEF
*THANK YOU BLUE 24-7-365. This one helps support police and firefighters in Tempe, Ariz.
*SCHOOL IS COOL, sold by the fifth-graders at Bells Mill Elementary School in Potomac, Md., to finance their end-of-year celebration.
*RESPECT, from Nike
*HOW BLUE ARE YOU? - a fund-raiser for the Democratic National Committee.
*LeBRON
Second, folks with their fingers closer to the pulse of fashion, such as my 17-year-old, contend this wristband craze is on the wane. Last week, he called the fad "a fall, freshmen thing."
This misguided, feeble attempt at distancing itself from gambling isn't a first for the NCAA. Savvy fans know that the best way to get tickets to the men's Final Four this year in St. Louis was to enter the NCAA's ticket lottery last March. You paid upfront for the face value of two tickets, along with about 100,000 other schmoes, in the hope of getting two of the 11,000 or so ducats that were available. Those not picked got their money back.
Sounds like a forgiving lottery, right? Well, use that word with the NCAA, and you get your blue wristband snapped with a vengeance. The group prefers the phrase "random computerized drawing," as if the beautiful minds at CalTech and MIT invested hundreds of man-hours developing a revolutionary, fail-safe distribution system. Dress it up any way you want, it's still the luck of the draw, and the winners will tell their friends they won their tickets in the lottery.
Getting the message out won't make a difference because the NCAA has no muscle with the general public. Fans will bet in office pools and lay down big money in Las Vegas, wristbands or no.
The best the NCAA can do is clean its own house. It had a chance to make a big statement in 2003, when it launched an investigation into then-Washington football coach Rick Neuheisel's participation in high-stakes basketball pools.
The NCAA's investigators had the hammer. Neuheisel not only gambled but lied about it. They had their scapegoat and could have said: "Rick, if you gamble, then lie about it, we're going to clean your clock. We'll suspend you. We'll make an example of you. Member institutions, we're with you and will provide whatever you need to get these guys in the future."
Instead, the NCAA backed down and wound up on the defensive in Neuheisel's wrongful termination suit against the University of Washington. So much for hammering home its message.
Plan B seems to be the NCAA hoping - betting, some would say - that Mike Krzyzewski or Tubby Smith wakes up today and decides to put on the blue band, that he waves his arms around, that someone notices and asks, "Hey, Coach, whatcha got there?"
That's not exactly the powerful message the NCAA could send, so here's a suggestion: If the NCAA and Washington prevail, they should forget about monetary damages. Instead, they should ask the court to force Neuheisel to wear those DON'T BET ON IT bracelets from wrist to elbow on both arms, so many that they nearly cut off his circulation, every day for the next two years.
Their point wouldn't get lost.
