Odds are Mallory Burdette didn’t feel any pain as big sister Lindsay body slammed her onto the concrete surface at the University of Georgia’s Dan Magill Tennis Complex.
She probably could have jumped out of a moving car and still popped up smiling.
The freshman had just won a marathon three-setter in the championship match of the NCAA Tournament to give Stanford the title. Seconds after Florida’s Marrit Boonstra’s shot sailed wide on match point, teammate and sister Lindsay sprinted onto the court heading straight for Mallory.
When Lindsay got there, she didn’t stop.
Like a blitzing linebacker coming from the quarterback’s blindside, Lindsay went full steam into an arms-raised Mallory, bringing them both down to the ground. In what will go down as one of the more memorable dogpiles in NCAA history (at one point seven Cardinal players were stacked on one another), Lindsay’s open-field tackle was the clincher.
Every NCAA promotional video should have the clip of the Burdette Bruising. Not simply for the comedic value (of which there is plenty), but as an example of what the NCAA is supposed to represent — competition, excitement, passion.
Unfortunately, the NCAA has demonstrated that those are not the values it stands for. The NCAA’s most recent stab-in-the-back to its players was filing an amicus brief in support of the NFL in its antitrust case.
For those that haven’t been following the legal predicaments of the No Fun League, here’s a quick recap: American Needle, a former producer of NFL merchandise, sued the NFL when the league signed an exclusive deal with Reebok, citing the arrangement as a violation of antitrust laws.
The NFL, arguing that it is a single entity rather than 32 separate teams, hoped the Supreme Court would grant it an antitrust exemption much like the one Major League Baseball enjoys. The Court didn’t buy it, ruling 9-0 against the NFL.
If the Court had sided with the NFL, the league would practically be able to set salaries and free agency conditions in its favor, severely harming the players. For obvious reasons, the NBA and NHL filed briefs in support of the NFL, hoping that the Court might one day grant them antitrust exemptions.
The NCAA is not the NBA or NHL. Professional sports leagues are profit-maximizing organizations where the owner’s sole goal is to make money. Owners do not need to feel sympathy for their players, and when presented with a chance to fatten their wallets, they should feel no shame in taking it.
The NCAA is supposed to care about its athletes, though. Sure, it can turn a profit, but ultimately the intent of the NCAA is to provide the best possible environment for student-athletes to play the game they love. In short, the NCAA should help its players.
And that’s how we end up back at the NCAA’s amicus brief. Today’s collegiate athletes will be tomorrow’s professional athletes. When they go pro, they are going to sign a contract. The amount that contract is worth depends on whether that league has an antitrust exemption or not.
The NCAA did everything it could to make that contract as small as possible.
For what? So it can sign a deal making Nike the exclusive apparel provider of athletic programs across the nation? A few more digits in its bank account? Is that really worth sacrificing the livelihood of the student-athletes who work for free to earn the NCAA a little more cash?
By filing the brief, the NCAA sent a clear message: It cares more about its profits than its players, more about riches than responsibility. Maybe Lindsay Burdette could body slam a few NCAA executives and knock some sense into them.
Mike Lazarus thinks a good old-fashioned body slam can solve any problem. Let him know what you think at mlazarus “at” stanford.edu.