Chasing green off the field
Some NCAA athletes find ‘full-ride’ funding doesn’t pay the bills.
On a Tuesday evening, seven men — all college-aged and more than half student athletes at Indiana State University — sit in the living room of a house in Terre Haute. Five of them rent the three bedrooms on the first floor. The living room has a small television, a couple of couches where two of the men sleep, and piles of their clothes in the corners. In the kitchen, the refrigerator is a sad scene of two cartons of eggs, a jug of milk, and two boxes of leftover Pizza Hut. The cabinets are equally bleak, holding only some plastic utensils, ramen noodles and cereal.
A quick knock on the door brings in another young man. He walks up to one of the roommates, an athlete we will call “M” to protect his identity, and does a quick handshake. M goes to the kitchen and opens a drawer beside the sink. He grabs a scale and a small Ziploc bag filled with marijuana. The guy asked if he could pay him later, but M said he “really needs the money now.” After a quick back-and-forth, M grudgingly agrees to let his friend pay later.
M grew up in the outskirts of Chicago and has struggled with poverty all his life. He defied the odds in his neighborhood by winning a full-ride football scholarship to ISU. The oldest of four kids of a single mom, he thought his scholarship and college education would be a road out of poverty. But he is one of thousands of National Collegiate Athletic Association athletes who struggle to live and to get a college education.
According to the NCAA, student athletes living in poverty is not uncommon. A study by Drexel University and the National College Players Association found that athletes on “full-ride” scholarships can be stuck paying up to $6,127 per year in out-of-pocket expenses, depending on the college. The study criticizes the NCAA’s “propaganda” which promotes the myth of wholesome amateur athletes, while keeping their scholarships at poverty-level and spending millions on coaches, administrators, conference executives and others. The study also argues that the NCAA unfairly underestimates athletes’ contributions to a multi-billion-dollar industry. Athletes at Indiana State University, a smaller Division 1 school, face the same problems making ends meet. Some get by with extra jobs — some legal and some not.
Despite his struggles, “M” still sees athletics as a way out of poverty and only way to get to college. His freshman year at ISU, he worked the off-season at Hardee’s, but when season rolled around, he did not have enough time to keep up with a job, practice and his studies.
So, on the side he started selling marijuana.
As the oldest son, he felt it was his responsibility to take care of himself and help out his mom any way he could. He didn’t like the idea of selling at first, and did it occasionally when he needed money bad enough.
“He’s not a big drug dealer or anything like that. He just does what he feels he needs to do to get money,” one of his teammates said.
As sophomore season approached, “M” lost his full ride and was moved down to a partial scholarship for athletics. Financially, for him and his family, this was the worst news possible. He took out loans and, with the help of his mom, was able to continue playing at ISU. Because of his situation, he started selling more weed to have extra money.
The room-and-board provisions in a full scholarship still leave 85 percent of players living on-campus and 86 percent of players living off-campus living below the federal poverty line, according to the Drexel study. In their report, “The Price of Poverty in Big Time College Sport,” the authors recommend the NCAA increase funding to athletes to bring them out of poverty.
The study notes that if the average gap between funding and expenses — $3,222 per player — was funded, it would be enough to free many from poverty and reduce their vulnerability to breaking NCAA rules to make ends meet.
Ralph Fautanu is another athlete at Indiana State University that also has struggled with poverty. He grew up on the south side of San Francisco until the age of 15. Then he moved to the east side of Fresno/Sanger. All were bad areas to grow up, with a lot of gang activity, murder and robbery, he said.
“You’re either in a gang or you hang around people in a gang,” Fautanu said.
He shared a three-bedroom house with all four of his siblings, his two uncles and their kids, as well as his parents and grandparents. He said they ate ramen noodles almost every day.
His first year of college as a transfer student-athlete, he struggled to pay his bills. He got smarter with his money and found a cheaper house to make it easier for off-campus living. He now lives with more people to make the rent less expensive.
Fautanu cannot have a job during the football season, but included in his scholarship is a meal plan at the dining hall; without it, he says he’s not sure how he could afford groceries on top of everything else.
Ralph pays for college with the help of my scholarship. “I don’t like to ask for money from my parents because they struggle enough,” Fautanu said. As a teenager in high school, he became a father to his son and sometimes needed the help. His parents will babysit while he is across the country. He says his son’s mother allows him to skip payments sometimes, so he can get his degree and still afford bills and rent.
He sends money home when he can, but living off of a $700 monthly stipend is difficult. Having a child at such a young age has put the pressure on him to graduate with a college degree, so he can get a better job. He says he wants his son to have everything he didn’t have growing up.
If it wasn’t for his football scholarship, Ralph would not have been able to go to school because he would need the money. “To be honest I wouldn’t waste my time with college,” Fautanu said. “I would maybe go to trade school because you get paid while going to school for the job I want.”
For more stories in the “Poverty and Policy” project, go online to ISU Community Journalism or www.facebook.com/sycamorejournalism.
