UCLA just told its basketball coach that he has to win, and that he has to win big. UCLA didn't tell its basketball coach -- an honorable man named Ben Howland -- that it's OK if he cheats.
But that's my translation.
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| The pressure is really on coach Ben Howland now. (Getty Images) |
Winning isn't just a concept at UCLA. It's a commodity. They even put a price tag on it. Just so everyone understands.
Pauley Pavilion -- that humble little place that was good enough for Alcindor, Goodrich, Walton, Wilkes, Vandeweghe, O'Bannon, Edney, Kapono and Collison -- is no longer good enough for UCLA basketball. The place is getting a "renovation" of $185 million. In other words, they're tearing it down and starting over.
But UCLA isn't paying for it.
You are -- if you ever want to watch UCLA play basketball again.
A seat courtside can be yours at the new Pauley Pavilion, which will open in 2012-13, but only if you have $500,000.
Wait. That's a lot of zeroes. Pause for a second while I make sure on that ... yup. I got it right. UCLA will bestow a courtside seat on UCLA basketball fans, but only the ones who pony up half a million dollars.
The amount is so absurd, it's like that scene from Austin Powers where Dr. Evil threatens to blow up Washington D.C. in 1969 unless the U.S. president gives him "100 billion dollars" -- a nonsensical figure in 1969 that leaves the president laughing in Dr. Evil's face.
When he stops laughing, the president mockingly tells Dr. Evil: "That's like saying, 'I want a kajillion bajillion dollars.'"
That's what UCLA just did. It told its boosters that the price of watching UCLA basketball from courtside is a kajillion bajillion dollars. It's nonsensical. Outlandish.
And it's dangerous for the chastity of a UCLA basketball program that has had to overcome a tradition that includes Jim Harrick, Larry Brown and booster Sam Gilbert -- who was breaking every NCAA rule known to man in the 1960s and early '70s while John Wooden looked the other way.
Howland seems to be as virtuous as they come, but UCLA has sullied itself yet again. It's holding courtside seats hostage for $500,000, and even then, the seat hasn't been purchased yet. Nope. To get one of those seats, you have to pay a one-time fee of $500,000 -- and make an annual donation of $17,000 to the Wooden Athletic Fund.
Out of the goodness of its heart, UCLA is giving fans five years to pay the $500,000. Which means $100,000 a year ... plus that $17,000 annually to the Wooden Athletic Fund. Plus the cost of the ticket itself.
By asking for another $17,000 in addition to the $100,000 (for five years), UCLA is essentially charging 17 percent interest. Those are almost bookie rates. Pay it, or they might just break one of your kneecaps.
Or worse, they'll take away your UCLA basketball ticket.
Cheaper tickets can be had, of course. You don't have to sit courtside. You can sit several rows up, as long as you're willing to make a one-time payment of $30,000. Plus $3,000 a year for the Wooden Athletic Fund. Plus the price of the ticket itself. You can spread the $30,000 over three years, so that's $10,000 a year ... plus the $3,000 Wooden donation.
That's 30 percent interest.
Go ahead and pick the kneecap you want busted. UCLA isn't screwing around.
The fan I feel bad for isn't the one who pays the price of a house to go to a UCLA game, because that fan deserves no pity. He doesn't want to just see the games -- he wants to be seen, and he'll pay a fortune to be seen. Jack Nicholson does it for Lakers games. That freak in the leather pants who sits near Jack, he does it too. Those people want to be seen -- and so do you, rich UCLA fan with $517,000 (plus face value) burning a hole in your pocket.
No, I don't feel bad for you. UCLA is asking, and you're paying, an immoral amount of money. You get what you deserve. If there's a hell, you're going there. That money could have saved 10 villages in a third-world country, or it can get you a seat near the foul line. Hey, enjoy your pregame cocktails.
I feel bad for the UCLA fan who won't be able to afford games anymore. The school used to charge $1,700 a year, as a donation to the Wooden Athletic Fund, plus the price of the ticket. That's a lot of money, but it's within reason. A half a million dollars? Unreasonable. Unfathomable. Undoable. So I feel bad for the excluded UCLA fans.
And I feel bad for Howland, because he has just been informed that winning -- and winning big, none of this 19-11 stuff -- is the only option at UCLA. Boosters aren't paying $500,000 to watch a plucky team go 19-11. Boosters are paying that money to watch a team go to the Final Four and win a national title. More than once.
By charging $500,000 for a ticket, the school is out of control. By paying $500,000 for a ticket, the booster is out of control. But Howland, who has to generate money for the school and wins for the booster, is supposed to rise above this mess and control himself? On the already out-of-control recruiting front?
He just might do it. Howland seems that clean. But still, I feel bad for him.
UCLA hasn't merely put a price on his head. UCLA also has put a price, and a ranking, on the heads of all Bruins fans. The school will use donation levels to rank its boosters, giving the top 125 the first shot at the best seats. Next come fans ranked 126-525. After that? If you're not in the top 525, UCLA isn't even sure why you're breathing. That's oxygen that could better serve a rich person.
This can all be handled online, and the donation form on UCLA's "How to Give" link has a spot for credit cards. Fill in your card number and expiration date, and you're in business. So really, you're paying 17 percent interest to UCLA, and maybe another 12 percent to MasterCard. Your twisted priorities? Priceless.
Elsewhere on that UCLA site, I found a page describing various "Giving Levels" and something unbelievably offensive called "Naming Opportunities." For $75,000,000 -- that's $75 million -- a very rich, very deranged fan can attach his or her name to the UCLA Athletic Complex.
That's interesting, but I was more intrigued in a naming opportunity down the page. For $750,000, you can have your name on the basketball coach's office door.
Just so Howland knows who he's working for.
