Are there too many varsity athletes at Harvard? Do athletes value education as much as non-athletes?

James L. Shulman and former Princeton president William G. Bowen attempt to answer provocative questions like these in The Game of Life, a new book in which they warn of a growing divide between academics and athletics in college.

Shulman and Bowen decry the changing nature of collegiate athletics which they believe has become too professional and commercialized. In a study of 30 academically selective schools, including four Ivies (but not Harvard), Shulman and Bowen found that average SAT scores among athletes are markedly lower than those of their classmates. They also note that athletes enjoy an advantage in gaining admission to selective universities compared with other targeted groups such as minorities or alumni children. Once on campus, they believe that an "athlete culture" is established. They charge, quite boldly, that many athletes fail "to take full advantage of the educational opportunities that those colleges and universities are there to provide." Many athletes also "are not focused on fulfilling their educational missions."

These pointed attacks on collegiate athletics have drawn national attention. The book was featured in the January 7 New York Times Education Life supplement and the Jan. 22 issue of The New Yorker. Shulman recently fielded questions on ESPN's website, and the book has garnered praise from around the academic community.

But before rushing off to change their admissions policies universities should consider some of the caveats.

A defining characteristic of the "athlete culture" is the de-emphasis of academics, the authors argue. Aside from this assumption's questionable accuracy, the authors suggest no solution to the "problem" of the athlete culture. What type of culture would Shulman and Bowen envision replacing the athlete culture? The "perfect board score" culture? While certainly there are many interesting people with astronomical SAT scores, would Harvard necessarily be a better place if the proportion of such people were increased? If every last student were intent on achieving Group I status, most would end up unhappy and dissatisfied. In the words of one former admissions officer, the atmosphere would be "insufferable."

The creation of this "athlete culture," argue the authors, begins in admissions offices, which they believe encourage greater specialization in athletics at a younger age. Shulman and Bowen find that recruited athletes face markedly better odds at gaining admittance to top universities. But what they forget is that recruited athletes are a pre-screened group. Since coaches do not recruit athletes who do not fall in the acceptable academic, it is unsurprising that their acceptance rate should be higher.

But even if the authors' proposition were true--that admissions offices unduly reward athletic prowess and thus encourage kids to specialize in a sport-- what would be wrong with that? Although specialization in a sport can sometimes have negative effects on a child's development, sports also help keep kids away from such things as video games and drugs. Specializing also teaches children focus and dedication and imbues them with a strong work ethic. While some excessive parents might hire expensive batting coaches for their children, the alternative would likely be the purchase of an expensive Sony Play Station or Nintendo 64. Do Shulman and Bowen really think this would be better for a child's development?

Shulman and Bowen also fail to realize that specialization in athletics parallels a greater societal trend towards specialization, especially at the schools the authors studied. The faculty and the course offerings in all the departments at Harvard are more specialized now than they were 50 years ago. As Princeton Dean of Admissions Fred Hargadon said, the "baby" has changed but so has the "bathwater".

Aside from their major criticisms of collegiate athletics, Shulman and Bowen (who claim to be pro-sport) cannot resist inserting minor anti-athlete barbs into their book. They begin one of section of a chapter on women's sports by quoting a Princeton basketball player: "She was trying to get all up in my face, and I just clocked her. I started hammering her." This quote has no apparent relevance to the chapter, which explains the history of women's athletics. It seems that the authors dug up the most unflattering quote they could find to execute an underhanded attack on the nature of women's sports. But this attempt is not surprising given their constant vituperations against athletes in general, whose academic motivations the authors constantly disparage.

Thankfully, Harvard has shown no indication of following Shulman and Bowen's suggestions. Harvard has traditionally remained very active in athletics: when the University of Chicago choose to give up football earlier this century, Harvard instead led the formation of the Ivy League. Now, after suffering in its admissions competition with the Ivies, Chicago has brought back football and advertises its athletic success on its website.

Slashing the athletic program would dramatically alter the character and composition of the college, most likely for the worse. The community would be decidedly less healthy, less vibrant, less diverse and less interesting.

William M. Rasmussen, a Crimson editor, is a first-year in Thayer Hall.