The boys are back in town

Standing on the threshold of another year of college at Columbia, we’ve all surely jam-packed our semesters, purely conceptual at the moment, with as much non-stop action and fun as possible. In short, our schedules represent dense bundles of ambition as we plan to have, do, and see it all. This syndrome seems especially potent in males, whose high levels of testosterone combined with some residual summer heat give them delusions of social grandeur.

We’re prepared to be our best, our fullest, our most distended selves! Records will break in all the important categories: women seduced, plaid shirts worn, drinks consumed without vomiting (and its statistical cousins—times vomited without going to the hospital, and trips to the hospital without dying), three-pointers made, classes passed, classes dropped, bench press reps finished, etc. Not only must we have our cake and eat it, too, but we’d also like to have a second slice, or sell our original, and definitely sample some of hers.

At a moment when pie-in-the-sky fantasies run wild, recent events suggest that our failure is imminent. Besides, look what has fallen upon the men who wanted it all. Tiger Woods, always a hero amongst guys for having a supermodel wife, an awesome name, and golf titles galore, is watching his world crumble before him as a result of his exposed adultery and subsequent divorce. For the first time in his career, he missed the cut in August at the PGA Championship, a tournament he’d won four times previously. His sponsors continue to drop him, leaving Woods representing not Tag Heuer, the luxury wristwear brand, but Kowa, a Japanese manufacturer. Woods probably can’t even turn anymore to the droves of women whose former affection was a given—with dwindling golf skills, few remaining friends, and Asian pain relievers instead of $3,000 watches, he is hardly a hot commodity.

Perhaps he should drop golf and try out for the football team at the University of Miami, where his lascivious and luxurious ways would be encouraged, to say the least. Convicted felon and former booster for Miami athletics Nevin Shapiro has revealed that in the past decade the college’s football players have been provided with all they could dream of. Playing for the Hurricanes is already quite an honor: The team won a national championship in 2001 and has built a reputation of recruiting not only future NFL stars, but also some of the most intimidating players around. The team was deemed “The U” by former receiver Michael Irvin—somehow monopolizing the word university which would aptly describe thousands of institutions worldwide—and was featured in one of ESPN’s popular 30 for 30 documentaries. Competing in the same stadium as the Dolphins while residing in the reverberant city of Miami, these players could hardly be called amateur.

Especially since they were getting paid. Shapiro confessed that between the years 2001 and 2010 he provided athletes with cash, prostitutes, alcohol, and jewelry while inviting them to restaurants, nightclubs, and his yacht. The consequences of Shapiro’s candor are manifold, reaching all the way to the NFL where former Miami players have become embroiled in arguably the biggest scandal in college sports history. Current Miami players have already been suspended from the team, which might be a moot punishment anyway considering the season could be cancelled entirely by the NCAA. So much for living the high life.

And yet there is a sense of fascination, envy even over the unfolding Miami story amongst the predictable storm of outcries, not dissimilar to the yearning many males had for Woods’ scandalous lifestyle. And why not? These boys were basically being paid to live the college dream. Can you imagine being offered money to go to the Heights and try out your polished pick-up lines? Or to hang out at clubs downtown instead of eating in Ferris Booth all week just to have enough money to go? Or to fill VIP sections instead of memorizing the information on your fake ID so that the bouncer doesn’t show you the exit?

Perhaps, then, the thought of having it all is a little more nuanced, if not ultimately reasonable. Besides, Tiger and those football players sure had a lot of fun before it all came crashing down. So while Woods can’t shoot below 78 on the golf course and we can’t shoot above it in the classroom, and while the worst Hurricane damage will end up being the destruction of a storied college’s football team, we might as well try to have it all this year. But if you end up lying in a pile of dirty laundry in your dorm room simultaneously trying to write two essays and explain your behavior last night over Facebook Chat, don’t expect any pick-me-ups. Unless of course Kowa is in town.

Walker Harrison is a sophomore in Columbia College majoring in mathematics. He plays on the baseball team and writes for The Fed. Tough Guise runs alternate Wednesdays.