The Chronicle of Higher Ed interviewed Ohio State President Gordon Gee about college athletics. Here's the headline: Buckeyes' Leader Believes College Presidents Should Help Contain Sports Spending. But that didn't really square with this stunning bit of rationalization:

Q. What can the top-spending university do about the arms race?

A. Our budget at Ohio State is $4-billion, and our athletic budget is $110-million. When one thinks about it as part of the overall budget of the institution, it's fairly insignificant. And it is a self-supporting unit, the same as many other units within the university. We have to make certain that athletic programs are fully integrated into the ... life of the university, that talented football players and talented cellists are given opportunities to excel, but that it is all part of the academic, social-cultural environment of the institution. And what is happening as part of this escalation is that athletic programs are increasingly becoming separated and segregated, both in structure and function, and even values, from the rest of the institution. And it's bringing that back into focus, which I think is important.

For the record, Ohio State does have 36 varsity teams, according to the Chronicle. But $110 million of public money being funneled to sports at a "research" institution? How is this acceptable?

Through the prism of Notre Dame, Dave Zirin reminds us of a perennially underdiscussed topic ‘round these parts (and elsewhere): the ever-growing behemoth of sports in our universities. ND football generates a staggering $61 million per year. That includes a big Adidas sponsorship package and, Zirin reports, an unprecedented and exclusive TV deal with NBC which translates into $9 million a year.

The effects on the university of this business (what else to call it?) are no doubt far-reaching. But Zirin focuses on South Bend, Ind., which, with 17 percent of the population below the poverty line, is not the town it once was. The tens of thousands of Fighting Irish fans streaming to home games are the lifeblood of the local economy. Problem is, the new season isn't going as expected: ND has fumbled its way to an 0-3 start. For South Bend, the sad truth is this could mean disaster:

The identity of the community begins and ends with the Fighting Irish. The economic is locked in a dance of death with the psychological. Now, as they lose it causes a crisis that has the feel of hysteria. What if the ratings drop - even more - for NBC? What if the BCS [Bowl Championship Series] doesn't come calling? What if the team actually goes winless? What would that do to the generosity of the big boosters? What would that do to attendance? What would that do to South Bend? What would that do to St. Joseph's county? What would that do to the person selling bottles of cold tap water by the side of the road as tailgaters enter the parking lot? It feels criminal that a city's sense of self is dependent on whether 18 year old Jimmy Clausen can actually take a snap from center without dropping the football. It speaks to the problem far too familiar that takes place when sports cease to be sports and become a substitute for urban policy, for economic development, and for our self-worth.