There’s a scene early on in “Jerry Maguire” where the title sports agent, defending a disgraced footballer to a screaming press mob, assures them, “There’s no proof of anything except that this guy’s a sensational athlete.” I thought of that line yesterday, when news surfaced that former Badgers running back P.J. Hill had been arrested on reckless endangerment and drunken driving charges. More specifically, I wondered about how upset the Jerry Maguires of the world (and the NFL teams that hoped to draft him) are right now: For the time being, perhaps permanently, there is not much money to be made off this derailed superstar. I am never so disgusted by the world than when I think about the complexities of college and professional sports.

Forget for a moment the irresponsibility of driving while intoxicated or fleeing police. I have no idea whether Hill will be found guilty of these charges, and neither do you. I am more interested in what the drama of this story says about sports culture. To the University of Wisconsin, the charges against Hill may represent a more personal disappointment. But to the world outside, Hill is a purely exploitable commodity, and his profitability just plummeted. Undoubtedly the upper echelons of the ritziest sports agencies are yelling at Hill right now, asking him what he was thinking, how he could have squandered so much potential so stupidly. What they mean to ask is how Hill could have let them down so badly. They do not care about P.J. Hill. They represent an endless savannah of greed that knows where the money is — and, as of several days ago, where it isn’t.

If an up-and-coming biochemist or political scientist at the University of Wisconsin were arraigned on similar charges, his or her graduate school hopes would be stalled in the process, and no one would bat an eye. The campus press would not report the story. Any disciplinary action from the university or legal system would be unpublicized and low-key. Politics and entertainment notwithstanding, society usually lets people face the consequences of their actions in relative privacy. We take it as a given that a person’s mistakes are their own, to be dealt with and atoned for without any prodding from us. And yet when an athlete makes a mistake, we treat it as a collective tragedy — as if it we were let down by Hill. We hold blubbering, soul-searching press conferences. We engage in sappy, self-serving dialogue about “holding people to a higher standard.” Give me a break. We care about athletes because they are profitable. Period. Campus sports psychology encourages this kind of sensational response, but I’ll have no part of it.

And while we’re at it, here’s another novel thought: UW, like all American universities, could do a better job protecting its outstanding athletes from the obsessive sports culture of our own creation. It should not be the job of sports coaches and advisors to prepare any athlete for a multi-million dollar professional contract. If certain individuals want to pursue lucrative options elsewhere, this should be neither encouraged nor discouraged. Rather, UW should view athletics as one modest element of a more holistic educational experience. I’m not content with hiring “class checkers” to make sure athletes are in their seats when the bell rings. We should insist athletes, like everyone else on campus, are able to spend more time on studies than sports. Athletes have a right to as many unfettered hours of study as the rest of us. Realizing this might mean scaling back the rigid, totalitarian infrastructure of our sports teams — good riddance, I say.

Without excusing the alleged charges against Hill, let me offer a modest hypothesis: When we permit the dehumanization and commodification of our outstanding student athletes, we ensure that once in a while, one of them will go off the deep end. How would you feel if you knew the university only cared about you because of the money you brought in for them — that if you broke your leg or arm, that would be the end of the UW’s excessive preoccupation with your well-being? Add to that the howling wilderness of greedy sports agents waiting in the wings, the NFL teams bidding amongst themselves for your professional services, the student culture which jokes regularly about your poor academic record, and the knowledge that the campus press is watching your every move. It’s a miracle more UW athletes don’t go absolutely insane. And it is a moral outrage that any UW athlete is ever expected to endure the ups and downs of celebrity status. I’ll be the first to say it: I feel sorry for Hill.

Eric Schmidt ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in political science and legal studies.