This is graduation season. College and high school graduations are winding down. The spring is a season of transitions and as athletes, coaches, and lovers of sport we are among the most highly motivated by attaining the next level, whether that is making the jump from high school to college, or from college to the pro ranks.

In fact, we are so driven in athletics we sometimes lose our grip on the larger script. We get caught up in the mechanics of the process and miss the “why” and the “how” in the things we do.

That couldn’t have been expressed more clearly in the recent dust-up between some of college football’s most elite coaches, Alabama’s Nick Saban, Texas A&M’s Jimbo Fisher, and Jackson State’s Deion Sanders. Never mind that Jackson State doesn’t even play in the Football Bowl Subdivision (FBS), Sanders is enough of a personality and has enough star power to get dragged into this spat, too. The core of the disagreement is Saban is concerned that the ability of athletes to receive compensation for use of their name, image, and likeness (collectively known as “NIL” rights) first permitted a year ago by the NCAA and more that 20 states is dangerously undermining college football. Saban, who is perhaps the most influential person in college sports and normally chooses his words with either great care or for maximum effect, fired the first broadside decrying how collectives- groups of alumni pooling money to support athletes through NIL at certain institutions- are essentially buying athletes to attend certain colleges. Fisher and Jackson, who were targets of Saban’s comments, have since fired back.

But what is most telling in this spat is that while Saban has expressed concern about what NIL may be doing to harm college football, ostensibly keeping top prospects from his practice field and team, he’s not talking about the benefit or the purpose of this silly recruiting enterprise or what might be in it for the athletes. That is the unfortunately unspoken part of this.

It is probably safe to say that any talented young man who plays for Saban, Fisher, or Sanders will receive superb coaching, state of the art conditioning and athletic development, excellent sports medical and nutritional support and if all goes well in 3, 4, or 5 years have the chance to move to that next level and play in the NFL.

But what’s after that? What’s in addition to that? What is all this leading to?

An NFL career is certainly an aspirational thing, no doubt. But that’s just it- it isn’t a career- at least not for most. It’s a highly compensated temp job that will last less long than anyone, but especially the athlete himself, would like.

It’s not surprising great coaches can lose a grip on this script, because their own survival depends on getting a commitment from a high schooler, signing the top recruits, winning the next game and the one after that, and finally winning championships. But the most important question, is “what matriculation at any school might mean for an athlete?” That is what is not being talked about in this spat.

It is not what will “Jimmy Five Stars” get if he comes here. It is what can he (or she if we are talking about recruiting women athletes) become in coming to that school that matters most. As former Georgetown University basketball coach Craig Esherick once posited, “do we think that being an athlete is all this young man (or woman) can ever be?” Esherick went on to add that there “may be a doctor, an attorney, a business leader inside that athlete waiting to be nurtured.”

It may take longer than the norm. The lure of pro sports is clear. But star athletes often are in a detrimental position compared to their normal student peers in terms of educational skills, career development and work experience, and it can take a great deal of resolve and courage to close that gap.

Perhaps this is what makes Jerome Bettis’ graduation this past week from Notre Dame, 28 years after he left for pro football, so sweet a story and reward.

Bettis, who made millions playing in the NFL, won a Super Bowl, and was elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame, is now a college graduate. He did it by coming back to South Bend and spending the spring semester living and studying among fellow students who are nearly 30 years younger.

Bettis was already a one-in-a-million story in all that he has achieved through football. His comfort and respect are not truly changed by his earning his degree. But that may even make him a greater example and inspiration in doing it. His purpose and joy in taking on this challenge illustrates a few things we all can take away and share in.

The first, is the sense of accomplishment every graduate deserves to feel and celebrate, especially those who aren’t famous and who have had to overcome significant challenges in reaching this moment.

Second, as Bettis shows, with his charm and humor, learning can be incredibly fun and its own reward.

Finally, and perhaps most important for those of us who played and love college sports, it shows that the transformative part for most is getting the degree and the knowledge that goes with it. At a time when some denigrate college, it is still the single most transformational experience most of us can seek to achieve in terms of improving our lives, personally, economically, and socially. It is an endpoint, in and of itself, as Bettis’s example shows. The average college graduate earns about a million dollars a year more than an average high school graduate over their working lives and for some the gap can be larger. That is more than an NFL season, and more than an average player will likely net in two NFL seasons, or about the length of the average NFL running backs’ entire career.

I, for one, am glad that Hall of Fame running back, Jerome “the Bus” Bettis, is saying this part with his actions, the part that the famous feuding coaches aren’t saying with their angry words back and forth, that finishing, no matter when, matters, and that this is the goal of playing college sports.

Congratulations graduates, everywhere. No matter how old you are or how long this took, this is only the beginning.

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