The latest in a lengthy line of Michael Oriard football books, Bowled Over covers the transformations that, since ca. 1960, have exacerbated the already ambiguous position of collegiate football since it’s founding days; that of awkwardly inhabiting a territory between academic amateurism and commercialized professionalism. It’s a compelling story concerning the innumerable contradictions within the sport. He articulates, for instance, how “pampering” and “exploitation” of the athlete-student could/should be seen as the same thing. The fact that coaches are now bestowed CEOesque salaries and the programs bring in many millions from commercialized realms while the (recruited) players only gain (mostly) free admittance to the university, with increasingly less opportunity to actually utilize the university as an educational venue is just one of many disparities.
Another primary issue involves whether the role of a football is a mere adjunct to or main attribute of a given university and its national reputation. Some programs seem to have blossomed because of their football prowess (the author’s alma mater in Indiana, the University of Miami) and others have withered on the vine without Big Football (any number of still-provincial programs). Some schools are mostly unaffected with a deemphasized program (Tulane, the Ivies) or by eliminating the sport altogether (Chicago, hopefully the school at which I teach) and some were on a solid path regardless of the team’s success (the oft-mentioned “Flutie Factor” turns out to be statistically dubious at BC). It’s a complex issue and when he turns to much needed reforms – or clarifications about the sport as profession or just college component – there are apparently no agreeable solutions even amongst seemingly innocuous suggestions, much less dramatic proposals. Oriard covers much ground (I would say “like Reggie Bush” but I’m not that lame…) with a very balanced, scholarly production.
In structure, the book is necessarily broken up into two parts: one focusing mostly on the final years of racial integration, the other articulating the sundry ramifications of the 1972-73 acts inaugurating the one-year scholarship and freshman eligibility. I say necessarily because the paucity of hard financial data outlining how Big Time college ball evolved into something like a quasi-NFL didn’t really exist until the last couple of decades and, presumably, there haven’t been any explicitly segregated programs since “Ole Miss,” LSU, and Georgia entered the twentieth century in 1972.
My only issue is that the portion about student unrest and team integration doesn’t really, if you will, integrate seamlessly with the second part. Yes, the discussions about player exploitation mostly revolves around black athletes, many from the lower echelons of US economic and educational society (they’re the latest equivalent of the sons of immigrant coal miners and factory laborers of decades past, though the author convincingly argues that the earlier group weren’t subjected to the same academic alienation that the current system promotes). Yes the data in Part Two covers graduation rates amongst black athletes as part of many other numerical and revenue-related factors. What I felt, however, is that the two parts read differently – as if they might better yield two separate books. Not that I think Oriard should have produced yet another book that would be all but ignored by the Goodreads.com community, but despite the excellent writing, I didn’t think Part One formed a solid basis for or reciprocal pairing with Part Two. They’re like different species within the same genus if I understood anything Steven Jay Gould ever wrote. Regardless, it’s a great book overall that any college football enthusiast or anti-college football professor should enjoy.