Courtesy Photo University of Arkansas officials recently approved a $160 million expansion to Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium, as seen in this design model. The expansion will provide 4,800 new seats, which are mostly indoor club seating.
The University of Arkansas Trustees recently approved an expansion to Donald W. Reynolds Razorback stadium at a cost of $160 million, in a move designed to add premium-seating options, and ultimately boost revenue.
To make money, we must often first spend it. But this expenditure on the part of the board of trustees has me wondering, once again, to what end its actions are aimed.
Before I pose today’s grand question, let’s take a moment to appreciate some facts about the athletic department. First among those, is that it makes an incredible amount of money.
The university publicized widely that the department was one of only 24 college athletics programs to turn a profit in 2014—making $96 million and spending a measly $94 million, according to a statement issued by the UofA. So the money for the new addition exists, but does that mean it’s the right decision?
Who is this addition really for? Beyond being a money grab, it strikes this author as a move made by several rich white men to the perceived benefit of, believe it or not, more rich white men.
There was one notable dissenter. Former U.S. Sen. David Pryor, now a UofA Trustee, voted against the project, saying it was “about money,” instead of the students.
Students? Money?
That’s right, wealthy football fans, Jeff Long and, dare I say it, Chancellor Steinmetz—the biggest question that deserves being asked not only of the trustees, but of university leadership, is where the priorities truly lie. There’s a strong element of immediate gratification inherent in the new plan proposed by the athletic department: Build neat new boxes, make more money, and contribute to the arms race that is college football.
Students see the vast amounts of money plunged into athletics every single year, while Yocum and Humphrey’s remain barely habitable, the entire basement of Kimpel Hall is without general access wireless internet and our university remains outside Top-50 rankings for general academic excellence.
Chancellor Steinmetz, in a statement to reporters, said he would never allow funds from students or the academic side of the university to subsidize athletics, but it seems to me that such a statement is an inlet into what aspect of this move the chancellor is missing. Sure, he’s not taking money from students to build these boxes. But he may well be taking opportunity.
During the search for a new chancellor, I attended one of Steinmetz’s public forums. He fielded questions from students, staff, faculty and members of the community. I was surprised by how personable he was, but I was more moved by what seemed a true commitment to the thing people are actually in school for—education.
Steinmetz spoke at length about his goals to move the UofA into a Top-50 research institution, by investing heavily in graduate and doctoral programs, bringing the UofA the finest teachers, and making academics priority number one.
But you see, the thing about priorities, is that they are supposed to come first.
In the most well-publicized move of his tenure, the new chancellor has wholeheartedly endorsed a project intended exclusively for the betterment of the athletic department, and at that, the very small percentage of Razorback football fans who will actually be able to afford the new premium seating—though this isn’t explicitly confirmed, I doubt the $85 student athletics pass includes any options that will allow students access to our new skyboxes.
My opposition to this project is one based on principle. Will it directly affect me? Monetarily, it seems unlikely. But what it does seem to be doing, right now as I sit behind my keyboard, is give me the feeling I was once promised to be guarded against; that I, the student, would always come before commercial interest.
And yet here I sit, a member of the 129th best academic institution in the nation, one that is poised to spend $160 million so that 4,000 football fans can see just a little bit better, from a plush seat in an air-conditioned room, which they will have the pleasure of occupying a grand total of six times per year.
Razorback Stadium Expansion Ignores Priorities
Courtesy Photo
University of Arkansas officials recently approved a $160 million expansion to Donald W. Reynolds Razorback Stadium, as seen in this design model. The expansion will provide 4,800 new seats, which are mostly indoor club seating.
The University of Arkansas Trustees recently approved an expansion to Donald W. Reynolds Razorback stadium at a cost of $160 million, in a move designed to add premium-seating options, and ultimately boost revenue.
To make money, we must often first spend it. But this expenditure on the part of the board of trustees has me wondering, once again, to what end its actions are aimed.
Before I pose today’s grand question, let’s take a moment to appreciate some facts about the athletic department. First among those, is that it makes an incredible amount of money.
The university publicized widely that the department was one of only 24 college athletics programs to turn a profit in 2014—making $96 million and spending a measly $94 million, according to a statement issued by the UofA. So the money for the new addition exists, but does that mean it’s the right decision?
Who is this addition really for? Beyond being a money grab, it strikes this author as a move made by several rich white men to the perceived benefit of, believe it or not, more rich white men.
There was one notable dissenter. Former U.S. Sen. David Pryor, now a UofA Trustee, voted against the project, saying it was “about money,” instead of the students.
Students? Money?
That’s right, wealthy football fans, Jeff Long and, dare I say it, Chancellor Steinmetz—the biggest question that deserves being asked not only of the trustees, but of university leadership, is where the priorities truly lie. There’s a strong element of immediate gratification inherent in the new plan proposed by the athletic department: Build neat new boxes, make more money, and contribute to the arms race that is college football.
Students see the vast amounts of money plunged into athletics every single year, while Yocum and Humphrey’s remain barely habitable, the entire basement of Kimpel Hall is without general access wireless internet and our university remains outside Top-50 rankings for general academic excellence.
Chancellor Steinmetz, in a statement to reporters, said he would never allow funds from students or the academic side of the university to subsidize athletics, but it seems to me that such a statement is an inlet into what aspect of this move the chancellor is missing. Sure, he’s not taking money from students to build these boxes. But he may well be taking opportunity.
During the search for a new chancellor, I attended one of Steinmetz’s public forums. He fielded questions from students, staff, faculty and members of the community. I was surprised by how personable he was, but I was more moved by what seemed a true commitment to the thing people are actually in school for—education.
Steinmetz spoke at length about his goals to move the UofA into a Top-50 research institution, by investing heavily in graduate and doctoral programs, bringing the UofA the finest teachers, and making academics priority number one.
But you see, the thing about priorities, is that they are supposed to come first.
In the most well-publicized move of his tenure, the new chancellor has wholeheartedly endorsed a project intended exclusively for the betterment of the athletic department, and at that, the very small percentage of Razorback football fans who will actually be able to afford the new premium seating—though this isn’t explicitly confirmed, I doubt the $85 student athletics pass includes any options that will allow students access to our new skyboxes.
My opposition to this project is one based on principle. Will it directly affect me? Monetarily, it seems unlikely. But what it does seem to be doing, right now as I sit behind my keyboard, is give me the feeling I was once promised to be guarded against; that I, the student, would always come before commercial interest.
And yet here I sit, a member of the 129th best academic institution in the nation, one that is poised to spend $160 million so that 4,000 football fans can see just a little bit better, from a plush seat in an air-conditioned room, which they will have the pleasure of occupying a grand total of six times per year.