penalty shouts: inside the NCAA board room
This is Penalty Shouts, The Tartan’s sports column inspired by the The New Yorker’s column Daily Shouts. This satire-fueled column will focus on anything and everything funny in the sports world that is deserving of our comedic attention.
After California governor Gavin Newsom signed a bill granting NCAA players rights to their likeness into law, the NCAA board room went into lockdown. Their office inside the peak of Mt. St. Helens had sirens blaring as windows and doors were sealed by blast proof metal. Fortunately, I was able to take the SLICE van, equipped with ten million horsepower and a light machine gun, to Washington before the doors sealed for good. But it was a close call as I coolly slid underneath the blast shield, almost losing my trademark hat and whip in the process. The Tartan had exclusive access.
Inside their boardroom, there was a long, oval table with suits seated around the perimeter. The biggest and fattest sat at the head, opposite of the in-wall television screen projecting a PowerPoint slide that read, “OK. The Apocalypse is here. Now what?”
The unfortunate sap presenting on what exactly the NCAA should do next was dropped through a trapdoor after he tried to explain that the NCAA could work with the players and still generate enough revenue to survive if they trimmed administrative fat. Another person, rather reminiscent of a mouse crossed a stick bug, walked in to finish the presentation: “The NCAA can survive. We need to lawyer up, hit the gyms (with taxes), and delete Facebook.” He has a point about Facebook. But the others? Trying to defeat a law that protects 18-23 year olds in court seems like an outright evil thing to do.
Then again, what organization has a secret headquarters inside of a volcano with blast shields protecting doors and windows and preventing escape? To name a few: Syndrome from The Incredibles, Dr. Evil from Austin Powers, The Grinch, and whoever that villain is in Spy Kids 2: Island of Lost Dreams. And now, the NCAA. If you’re associated with a person who has evil in their name, bro wyd?
After listening for a little longer to the suits drone on about generating revenue and revolutionizing the economy, I decided I had enough. The only way out was through a giant hole in the middle of the volcano, so I parachuted down for what felt like forever, feeling vaguely like Juni Cortez in Spy Kids 2, until I hit bottom. I walked out the front door.
As I walked away, the NCAA’s secret lair blew up behind me. The Arctic Monkeys's “Do I Wanna Know?” played me out, so I slid on my aviators without looking back. The job was done.