NCAA may have fight on its hands over nicknames

It was one thing last spring when the swells at NCAA Central decided member schools had to graduate a few kids every so often or forfeit their seats at postseason championships.

Besides reminding university administrators what all those old buildings out behind the stadiums are -- the rest of us call it "the campus" -- paying a price for bad report cards was something everybody could relate to.

Not so with NCAA chief Myles Brand's latest stab at reform.

Beginning in February, the organization will bar any program with an American Indian nickname or logo considered racially or ethnically "hostile" or "abusive" from using them in postseason events. That means no mascots brandishing spears, no cheerleaders in face paint or band members in headdresses, and none of them, presumably, wearing boxer shorts depicting scenes from "The Lone Ranger."

Think of the pageantry, spirit and spectacle that will be lost.

First, though, think of the lawsuits that might be filed.

"How politically correct can we get?" Florida Gov. Jeb Bush asked last week.

But he wasn't posing a rhetorical question. The Florida State Seminoles, among the most recognizable sporting brand in college athletics, top a list of 18 schools put on notice by the NCAA.

"The folks that make these decisions," Bush added, "need to get out more often."

This might be an admirable fight, even a good one, but it's already unpopular and likely to prove expensive, too. And not just as measured in lawyers' fees, but by how much it damages Brand's credibility and his chances of enacting the more immediate reforms that would improve college sports across the board. His committees spent four years studying the issue and would be grateful if defending it takes only twice as long.

Florida State president T.K. Wetherell is said to be mulling over the appeal process offered by the NCAA plan, but he also promised to "pursue all legal avenues to ensure ... this university will forever be associated with the 'unconquered' spirit of the Seminole Tribe of Florida." And just for good measure, he's already enlisted attorney Barry Richard, who led the successful legal challenge on behalf of President Bush during the 2000 election recount in Florida.

Lawyers with less impressive credentials already have noted the NCAA directive is vague and full of loopholes. Some predict it will be overturned before it takes effect. But that hasn't stopped fans of other programs from loading up message boards with rumors that the NCAA will go after any symbol the people in charge find the least bit offensive.

If so, the SEC would almost certainly lose Rebels (Ole Miss) and even maybe Gamecocks (South Carolina). In the ACC, it's hard to imagine Blue Devils (Duke) or Hurricanes (Miami) carrying positive connotations for much longer. And how about Notre Dame's "Fighting Irish" tag? Wouldn't you pay serious money to be in athletic director Kevin White's office when he opens a letter that begins "Lose the Leprechaun or else. ..."

The NCAA is drawing criticism from both sides in this debate -- some say the campaign doesn't go far enough -- but at it's base, the organization's argument is sound.

Charlotte Westerhaus, the NCAA vice president for diversity and inclusion, wrote in an editorial recently that, "It is about ensuring that our championship events ... are free of images and names that are viewed as hurtful by specific groups around our great nation.

"It is also about leadership," she added, "making the right decision even if it may not be a popular decision with everyone."

Ultimately, it comes down to whether the decision will be effective.

The NCAA can't control what nicknames its member schools choose. But it maintains absolute control over the very lucrative postseason tournaments in almost every sport but Division I football. Brand's people know a few of the 18 schools currently on the list won't get much support from the rest of the pack. They also know changing a nickname and logo doesn't cause much of an uproar.

And yet, before the NCAA stepped in, the move to rid sports of nicknames considered hurtful by American Indians was going nowhere.

Pleas to and protests against baseball's Cleveland Indians and Atlanta Braves, pro football's Washington Redskins and Kansas City Chiefs, and hockey's Chicago Blackhawks fell on deaf ears. The closest thing to a victory advocates could claim was getting Jane Fonda, who was married to Braves owner Ted Turner at the time, to stop taking part in renditions of the "Tomahawk Chop" during World Series' games in the early 1990s.

Whether Brand is any more successful remains to be seen. But if this issue turns out to be as divisive, time-consuming and expensive as it looks, the people worried that college sports will be ruined first by escalating athletic budgets, commercialism and greed might hang a nickname on Brand that won't be fit to print.

Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitkeap.org.