At Least SMU Was Willing to Accept Blame for Cheating

When the Southern Methodist University football program was placed on probation last week by the NCAA for wholesale rule violations, it must have sparked strong feelings of deja vu down in Dallas.

After all, this was the sixth time the NCAA has swatted down the school for cheating.

One more time and SMU will start picking up bonus points on the NCAA’s frequent-fudger program.

“We are pleased to inform you,” the NCAA will wire SMU next time, “that you have accrued enough severe violation points to qualify for a free flight for your entire staff, administration and team to the Aleutian Islands. One way, of course. In addition, all future crimes against the sport of football by your school will be accorded automatic upgrade from misdemeanor to felony.”

No, the news of SMU’s shameful bust was not surprising. The school’s reaction was.

“We are embarrassed,” said the chairman of the school’s board of governors. “We are sorry. . . . It is a bitter pill to swallow, but we will swallow it and make every effort to see that it doesn’t happen again.”

Now that’s incredible.

SMU’s public reaction defies tradition. The normal, All-American response of the college president to the announcement of NCAA sanctions is to:

1. Rail. Rail at the hypocrisy of the system, the unfairness of the rules, the injustice of the NCAA, which always picks on the (choose the appropriate size) big/small schools.

2. Sue. More accurately, threaten to sue. Nothing like righteous indignation to cleanse the soul.

3. Compare. “Sure, we gave our recruits some free plane rides. Big deal. State U. lets their recruits keep the planes.”

4. Hand off. Blame it all on a couple overzealous alums, and point out that whatever you did, everyone else is doing, too.

Some schools boldly employ all four strategies, going for the coveted Grand Slam of Whine.

SMU officials, however, took a far different tack. They accepted the blame. Where did they get such an outrageous plan? Probably from the Japanese.

When a JAL airliner crashed near Tokyo recently, killing hundreds of passengers, the company president immediately took full blame, resigned his position and personally apologized to the victim’s families.

“Whenever an accident or a wrongdoing occurs, someone has to assume responsibility for it, and it’s usually the top man,” said Yuji Ichioka, a research associate with the Asian American Studies Center at UCLA, explaining this particular facet of Japanese culture. “If it (the wrongdoing) is not of great magnitude, a subordinate may take the responsibility, but it must be taken.

“You may have noticed that the JAL president was there, apologizing personally, when the families of the victims were flown in. In the end, he must go to the family of each crash victim, house to house, to express his condolences.

“In the Japanese legal and social system, if he had not made sincere public apology in the fashion he did, the judge (in any damage trial against the airline) would make a much harsher judgment.

“It’s an ancient philosophy. For example, in pre-war Japan, if a school building caught fire and the emperor’s portrait burned, the school president would have to resign, and he might even commit suicide.”

American colleges would do well to study this philosophy, as well as SMU’s similar version of humble-pie eating.

Not that college football has the corner on the cop-out market. Responsibility ducking is widespread in sports. The tennis player blames the linesman. The baseball player blames the press. Steinbrenner blames everyone.

But our colleges are America’s moral training grounds. It’s sad that cheating in college athletics is now routine, but when a school is caught, and the response from the top is tap dancing and wheedling, it’s scary.

This is not to suggest that any college president should contemplate suicide if his school’s football team is banned from TV and bowl appearances.

But that personal, door-to-door apology part of the Japanese philosophy sounds interesting. It would be refreshing to see a college president pounding the pavement, offering one-on-one condolences to each season-ticket holder.

“Sorry for letting the old program succumb to the forces of corruption and greed, fella,” the president would tell the fan.

“Hey, no big deal, Prez,” the fan would reply. “Everyone’s doin’ it. Listen, care to come inside for a lemonade?”

“OK, but just one. I’ve got 63,842 more homes to visit this evening.”

In the meantime, we’ll settle for a little more simple humility, owning up to screwing up, as displayed by the folks at SMU. Their response to being caught cheating was refreshing.

Of course, they’ve had a lot of practice.