Amateur.
“Am-a-teur [am-uh-choo r, -cher] (n). A person who engages in a study, sport or other activity for pleasure rather than for financial benefit or professional reasons. Compare professional.”
I am an amateur athlete.
Furthermore, I am an athletic unknown. I am an anonymous face in a sea of other undistinguished amateurs. I am a field hockey player. I am a member of a top-tier program in a top-tier conference and I will never so much as make a cameo on ESPN or CBS Sports. I will never win an ESPY. I am an amateur and will remain an amateur until I’m handed my threadbare uniform pressed carefully against the glass of a frame to be hung neatly in my parents’ home. And then I will no longer be an amateur, nor an athlete at all.
I believe in the ideological nature of amateurism. I understand its purpose and acknowledge its ambition to do something good for college athletics. I believe in the intrinsic value associated with arriving to a locker room early in the morning to find a pair of damp turf shoes waiting to be tied in preparation for the labor ahead. I believe in hard work. I believe in enduring the mental and physical gauntlet. I believe that those who cannot buy into this frame of mind are the individuals whose nameplates are removed from lockers and whose numbers are freed up on the roster. I believe in social and physical sacrifices in the name of dedication and commitment to a team. But despite the gutsy grind and the gratuitous contusions and twinges of our bodies and minds, student-athletes are expected to accept no tangible benefit beyond the intrinsic happiness of competition. Although sports are a business, these truths about the socioeconomic status of amateur athletics do not sit comfortably in the stomachs of many student-athletes and their factions.
There is a brewing debate between proponents of true amateurism and critics of the NCAA, those who consider it a money-making umbrella organization, about whether or not student-athletes should be paid to compete. Competing in a Division I NCAA sport is a privilege unrivaled by any I have ever received. Being a student-athlete is the greatest and most worthwhile title I have ever earned. It has defined my college experience and has, in turn, defined who I am, for better or worse, from the ages of 18 until 21—which I consider reasonably vital years in implementing your life’s earliest passions and purposes. I understand that this was a choice. It was an option. It is a life of marked commitment to something that sacrifices a sizeable number of social engagements, and compromises what once was a fit and injury-free body, exchanging it for one tattered, turf-burned and full of lactic acid. This was a choice—but at what point are the flags thrown, calling for fairness for voiceless student-athletes?
I cannot credibly or cogently argue that field hockey is a blockbuster sport. I cannot contend that it is a highly lucrative market for the school or that our 100-yard field is a place of pilgrimage like so many football coliseums or hardwood shrines, including our very own Cameron Indoor Stadium. Setting aside the events that air on primetime television—or the events that get airtime at all—less publicized subsets of college athletics still exist. For the thousands of student-athletes whose game recaps don’t even make it to the bottom of the ESPN score ticker, the show must go on. The sweat must still drip, and the muscles must still chug along. The practice schedule and the time commitments are real. The sacrifices are real, whether they make it to SportsCenter or not.
In an age of billion-dollar athletic franchises and sky-high signing bonuses for big-time sports, I think the current conversation about student-athletes and the pay-to-play debate is both necessary and distinct as the definition of amateurism is challenged. Student-athletes receive no monetary benefits, left simply to thrive on the potentially lucrative, intrinsic value of loving a sport and earning a diploma. In theory, this remuneration is enough. The love of the game is enough. The desire to compete is enough. Receiving a scholarship is enough. But what about the athletes who aren’t on scholarship?
I am earnest in my assertion that I hold neither regrets nor qualms about my experience as a student-athlete. I am privileged and thankful for the blessing of this lifestyle. But at what point can student-athletes claim what is fairly theirs? Equality in academia is a matter of blurred edges, and college athletics are no exception. The pay-to-play dialogue, at the moment, has no answer, but is a necessity for organizations and associations that preach the well being of their members.
In this debate, I have no answer. I’m just an amateur. Just a kid. Just a college student. I am an amateur, for now, and apparently, for good.
Ashley Camano is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Friday. You can follow Ashley on Twitter @camano4chron.
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