Stanford is not an Ivy League school. Yet it enjoys the sterling academic reputation that comes with Ivy association. Moreover, it boasts a name recognition that dwarfs that of actual Ivy schools such as Penn or Brown.
It doesn’t take an ivory tower egghead to figure out why. Stanford competes in the Pac-10, a top-rate NCAA athletic conference. Moreover, each school has demonstrated the ability to compete – and dominate – at the highest level of collegiate athletics. Stanford’s football team recently drubbed USC’s, and its starting running back nearly won the Heisman trophy.
The Ivy football champion is barred from postseason play, and even the basketball champion is forever fated to a #13-seed and first round exit. Penn’s Franklin Field, an historic football stadium with a gorgeous view of the Philadelphia skyline, is barely filled to 25% capacity for most Saturday home games.
But can you blame the students for not showing up? Their absence, obviously, is not the fault of the athletes. They performed wonderfully and just won the conference. Rather, the idiotic rules of the conference act as a direct deterrent to student interest. An Ivy return to the top of collegiate athletics and the accompanying leap in name recognition can be achieved without sacrificing academic standards. The stubborn refusal to do so has doomed Penn and its peer institutions to toil in anonymity.
1.
Since its 1954 inception - how many people who fawn over Ivy history know the actual League was founded a mere 65 years ago? – the League has banned postseason play for its member football teams. Ivy champions are not allowed to participate in the I-AA postseason tournament even if they would otherwise qualify due to this archaic rule.
Other I-AA football programs compete in a sixteen team tournament than runs from late November to mid-December. An undisputed national champion is crowned. This year, the national champion was Villanova, which had trouble beating Penn in the season opener this year. Penn, the eventual Ivy champion, was never given an opportunity to avenge the loss thanks to the ban on postseason play.
According to a 2006 article in the Daily Princetonian, there are two main reasons Ivy executives cite for upholding the ban. First, they claim that allowing postseason football play would disrupt the finals schedule of the athletes involved. Second, they believe the in-conference rivalries would erode since Ivy teams would focus on winning the postseason tournament.
These arguments are politely dismissed as misguided and more accurately described as moronic. The first argument, which is that student academics would be disrupted, is easily dismissed for its hypocrisy. An Ivy basketball champion could presumably be involved in an entire month of postseason play if it were to win the NCAA tournament in March. Yet extending the football season for a maximum of three weeks is “too disruptive”. The effect on basketball is just one example; obviously, since all sports except football are allowed to compete in their respective postseasons, every Ivy athlete is “disrupted” to some extent. But this is apparently ok. The arrogantly snobbish need to hew to tradition is more important than applying an equal standard across all sports.
The second argument is even more troubling, for the notion that postseason play would dilute the regular season is absurd. Look at the rivalry between Ohio State and Michigan, which is undoubtedly the sport’s most historic. When postseason play is at stake, such as in 2006 when a national title berth was on the line, the game is only augmented by the possibility of the second season. When one team wallows in mediocrity, as my beloved Wolverines have for the past several seasons, the game is still heated due to the possibility to spoil Ohio State’s postseason chances. The added aspect of a postseason keeps the games interesting.
More importantly, I’m wondering what which rivalries the Ivy executives are seeking to preserve. Sure, The Game between Harvard and Yale means something every year, but how would that change if a postseason berth was at stake? Would it not mean even more? Besides this one match-up, no other pairings generate the same level of interest. No one is currently tuning in to Providence public access television to watch Brown take on Dartmouth. But a Brown-Dartmouth game with a postseason tournament berth on the line would draw interest due to the fact that the winner could ultimately become the I-AA national champion.
As a quick aside, no one at Princeton considers Penn a rival. It’s not a rivalry if only one side cares. I’ve always considered Columbia a more natural rival – both urban schools get a Dangerfieldian level of respect despite deserving more.
Finally, there is no doubt that winning the Ivy League football title is an impressive accomplishment. But it is just as insular as winning the MAC conference. That is, nobody outside the conference particularly cares.
2.
It wasn’t always like this. For 80 years beginning in 1869, an Ivy champion had a chance to be a national champion. Princeton won the title in 1950, the last year an Ivy team would do so.
Obviously, these facts require some context. First and foremost, the Ivy League did not exist until the 1950s. Therefore, when Princeton or Penn won the title a century ago, it was technically not the Ivy Champion though the schedules between then and now are comparable. The few schools that played football for the first few decades of the sport’s existence did not have to beat many teams in order to win the title. There was also no postseason tournament to win.
But these caveats still do not deny the fact that Ivy games once meant something more than the insular competitions they represent today. Franklin Field, the country’s first stadium, was once filled on a weekly basis because the fans knew that a significant prize was at stake. The contemporary lack of similar enthusiasm is understandable since nothing more than the league title is at stake. There are no national implications. Even the NFL can’t sell out preseason games.
The I-AA postseason tournament would partially alleviate this problem. Schools like Montana and Appalachian State have strong student support for their teams since each has annual title aspirations. There is no logical reason Franklin Field can’t draw similar crowds. But why settle for I-AA?
3.
No one can name the last two I-AA champions. But any fan with a passing interest in college football knows that Alabama and Florida were the last two to hoist the BCS title. In order to become fully relevant again, the Ivy League must embrace I-A football.
Critics of this strategy to finally compete with the Big 12 and the Pac-10 for national allegiances and name recognition engage in a stunning display of cognitive dissonance to believe that increased athletic competition necessitates a drop in academic standards. Stanford proves the fallacy in this argument.
In 2010, U.S. News and World Report has Stanford tied with Penn at #4 of top undergraduate institutions. The U.S. news rankings are garbage, but they do play a significant role in driving the public’s perceptions of quality. Stanford’s academics are impeccable. Its selectivity is identical to Penn’s, and it has a significantly lower acceptance rate. SAT percentiles are also comparable between the two schools.
Stanford ranks higher than four Ivy schools. Again, the U.S. news rankings are so stupid that interpreting a higher ranking as a mark of higher quality is absurd. But, the rankings are certainly evidence that the Ivy schools and Stanford are comparable in quality despite the fact that Stanford’s athletic program – supposedly a source of academic decline – is significantly better than those of the Ivies. Plus, you’ve never seen a shirt that says “Not Stanford State”.
Stanford proved that an elite academic institution can still have a I-A football team. No reason schools like Cornell and Columbia cannot follow suit.
4.
The greatest benefit from making the leap to competitive football does not come from excellence on the playing field. It comes from not being confused with Penn State ever again.
The Ivy League, as a brand, is most closely associated with Harvard, Princeton, and Yale. College application message boards on the internet regularly abbreviate the triumvirate as “HYP”, a set of initials with enough gravitas make any overachieving high schooler swoon. College application message boards, by the way, are a wonderful source of idiotic teen angst:
“PLZ HELP: Trying to decide between Yale and Harvard for early app. Does anyone know which is better?!?!?!”
“Re: Yea, H is better internationally but Y is better domestically and has better networking opps. Depends what you wanna do later on.”
The palpable obsession with status is embarrassing to read. I remember overhearing conversations in high school about relative prestige between schools – with the U.S. News rankings as the sole arbiter of the truth.
“Hmm…Georgetown? It’s pretty good, but it’s only #23, its not as good as Emory since its #17.”
Regardless, the point is that when you hear Penn or Cornell officials extol the virtues of an “Ivy League education”, they usually don’t realize that the connotation of quality comes solely from the vaunted HYP. Why? Because no one has ever heard of the other schools. In fact, “Ivy League”, linguistically, carries the connotation of “elite” and “intelligent” much like the way “Big 10” carries the connotation of “unathletic” and “Basketball Score: 43-37, Wisconsin”.
The simplest way to fix this is to embrace I-A college football. The non-HYP Ivy schools would see the biggest benefit. Though each has a strong reputation within elite circles, each remains anonymous to most of the country.
According to Forbes, Notre Dame’s football program brings in over $50 million annually in profits for the academic institution. Notre Dame has sucked for most of the last fifteen years. But, the national following it has means no one ever confuses it with the South Bend Technical Institute.
Think of it the differences between Syracuse and SUNY Purchase or Gonzaga and Fordham. Each pairing is between schools with comparable academics, yet only two of them are nationally known. Columbia, Penn, Cornell, Brown and Dartmouth can finally escape from under the HYP shadow.
5.
Obviously, I’m being selfish. Penn is a wonderful school that nobody has heard of and I want to see this sad fact changed. Plus, besides NSO, Halloween, and one weekend in April, there are very few moments on campus where the atmosphere is anything approaching a typical Saturday at a football powerhouse. I want to see 50,000 in Franklin Field on Saturdays, with festivities starting at 10:00 am. I want to see Brown or Dartmouth Football t-shirts across the Midwest. I want to see Fowler, Herbstreit, and Corso cover a Columbia-Cornell game with title implications. I want to see the next Toby Gerhardt anchoring the backfield in New Haven, and I want Boise State to bitch about the fact that it can’t jump Penn in the BCS standings. Ms. Harris, tear down this wall!
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