Last summer, in my annual letter to alumni, I included a passage about athletics and noted that I was chairing the executive committee of the Pac-10 this year. This clearly frightened a number of alumni, while others congratulated me on having reached the pinnacle of my career. That such a pinnacle would be topped by Stanford's trip to the Rose Bowl for the first time in 28 years was more than I had any right to expect in my last year as president. I am grateful to former President Richard Lyman for offering me lessons in Rose Bowl etiquette.
Satisfactions apart, what concerns do I have after an eight-year exposure to high-quality athletics at a major research university? What are some of the tensions? What about the relationship between the classroom and the arena?
At Stanford we seem to enjoy the best of both worlds. Last summer, we won a fifth consecutive Sears Cup, which recognizes the nation's best Division I athletic program. At the same time, we learned that, for freshmen entering in 1992, the six-year graduation rate was 93 percent both for varsity athletes and the undergraduate population as a whole. This good news at Stanford was not matched at NCAA Division I schools overall, where graduation rates for athletes playing football and women's and men's basketball suffered significant declines.
But even at Stanford, the envy of many university presidents for its balance of the athletic and academic, there is no question the successful pursuit of athletic achievements can lead to trade-offs in the classroom. Such pursuit also adds to the demands on the fields and courts. The more we win, the more pressure we place on all programs to be more competitive, recruit better and raise more money.
For me, this has been demonstrated most powerfully by developments since the Stanford men's basketball team made it to the Final Four two years ago. I was, of course, very proud of the achievements of Coach Montgomery and the team. But I must admit I also was somewhat bemused by the amount of national media attention and hyperbole lavished on Stanford. This fall, we saw how the Final Four success has upped the ante for coach and players alike. Story after story referred to Stanford's arrival as a "basketball juggernaut" and "hoops powerhouse," evidence that the stakes and expectations continue to rise. I note in retrospect that the Final Four appearance came amid a string of four consecutive Nobel Prizes for our physics department, achievements that were quickly and routinely dispatched by the press. How does a university establish the appropriate tone and priorities, given the lack of a sense of proportion by the media and, in many cases, the general public?
This raises another subtle dilemma for universities. Because, historically, the country has focused much of its attention on men's sports, especially football, and men's teams (when they say "basketball" pure and simple they mean men's basketball; the other kind is identified as "women's basketball"), how do we meet our commitment to provide equal athletic opportunities for women? Stanford, of course, has a rich history in promoting women's athletics and was recently named the No. 1 collegiate athletics program for women by Sports Illustrated for Women. But the requirements of Title IX continue to keep this issue at the forefront. Since last April, a Universitywide gender equity planning committee, chaired by business professor Jerry Porras, has been looking into this area. Its preliminary recommendations are that Stanford achieve its goal of 50 percent female participation primarily by adding two women's varsity teams -- the first to be introduced in the 2000-01 academic year and another added no later than 2004-05.
Finding the resources to support our athletes -- male and female -- is an ongoing problem. The decision not to divert University funds from academics to athletic programs could put us in a compromised position. The display of corporate logos as the quid pro quo for commercial support is simply the most visible aspect of the problem.
When I arrived here eight years ago, I was not exactly clear about what athletics might bring to an institution so deeply dedicated to teaching, learning and research. In the intervening time, I have received a crash course on that topic. I have learned firsthand how important a contribution student athletes make to the unique culture of Stanford and how the student athletes harmonize athletic and academic demands in ways that fill me with admiration. It is one of the many excellences I have come to treasure about our University.
Nonetheless, a large and successful athletic program unleashes a host of forces that are difficult to keep in balance. I cannot say honestly that Stanford has achieved a perfect equilibrium, although it seems to me that, on the whole, we have it about right. We must, however, keep vigilant watch in this area, as we continue to celebrate our hard-won achievements in the classrooms, laboratories and various athletic arenas.
