Littlefield: Hoping For An NCAA Tournament Plot Twist

Half a century ago, I read a terrific story by Alan Sillitoe titled “The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner.” It’s about a petty crook who lands in a reform school in England…borstals they were called.

It becomes apparent to the warden, called the governor, that the young man is a natural runner – good enough, in fact, to perhaps win a competition with lads from a posh school that’s agreed to compete against the borstal’s working class boys. By winning, the runner, whose name is Smith, will enhance the reputation and improve the fortunes of the governor, or so the governor hopes.

"Wouldn’t the millionaire coaches turn bright red? Wouldn’t the boosters rant and roar? And then wouldn’t the system have to change?"

Bill Littlefield

The day of the big race arrives. Smith leaves the rich kids in his wake. He cannot help but win, which, the governor has assured him, will benefit one and all, Smith included.

But instead of winning, Smith stops short of the finish line. As the governor looks on, outraged, Smith folds his arms across his chest and allows the other runners to pass him by, figuring it’s the only way he can be true to himself and, no less importantly, get back at the man he regards as a hypocrite as well as his oppressor.

Was Smith’s stand an act of madness? It’s an intriguing question to ask as players, coaches, athletic directors, fans, and gamblers prepare for the NCAA basketball tournament.

The party line at the NCAA and the Div. I schools is that the athletes get a free education and, in some cases, even a few hundred dollars a month in expenses, so they should be grateful.

It’s hypocritical nonsense.

The men coaching those athletes make millions of dollars a year from the labor of the players. The NCAA and the most athletically prominent schools for which those athletes perform are likewise spectacularly enriched.

While some of the basketball players learn a lot about matters other than basketball while they’re wearing the school colors, many of them are poorly-compensated mercenaries who will be disappointed when they don’t get pro jobs. They’re the Smiths upon whose shoulders the wealth of the coaches and their employers depends.

Wouldn’t it be something if among one of the better teams there was a plurality of Smiths? What if, just before the whistle blew to begin, say, a quarterfinal game, those guys demonstrated by remaining in the locker room that they had learned what Smith came to understand in Alan Sillitoe’s story?

Wouldn’t the millionaire coaches turn bright red? Wouldn’t the boosters rant and roar? And then wouldn’t the system have to change?