Food for thought

Cheating has become acceptable and expected in all sports

In the most creative use of a food product since my college roommate's mom sent us a loaf of homemade bread that was so heavy we used it as a doorstop, it was discovered last week that four Sacramento State defensive linemen had sprayed their uniforms with Pam, the nonstick cooking oil, in order to make it more difficult for opposing players to hold them. The violation was uncovered when a University of Montana photographer caught the players on film applying the substance during a game on Nov. 9 -- and it was confirmed later, when four delicious mushroom-and-cheddar omelets slid smoothly off their jerseys without leaving a trace.

OK, I made that last part up, but it is true that the Sac State linemen dipped into the pantry and oiled up before a recent game, a clear violation of NCAA rules against using foreign substances on uniforms. The Big Sky Conference decided to reprimand, but not suspend, the players for Pam Scam, which isn't surprising. Cheating is not only accepted in sports, it's embraced. The idea of winning fair and square is as obsolete as the two-hand set shot. We've come to think of deceit as part of the competitive spirit, so that if you're not cheating, you're not trying.

Cheating happens under our noses every day, but it's so common we barely notice. We still tend to get upset over the obvious rule-breaking, like college athletes taking under-the-table payments or ballplayers puffing themselves up with steroids. But the mundane, run-of-the mill cheating has come to seem like business as usual. Baseball players cork bats and scuff balls, and they're often portrayed not as criminal, but crafty. Basketball players who have barely been touched try to fool the referee into calling offensive fouls by flopping to the ground as if they've just been hit by machine-gun fire, and we consider it just part of the game. In the NBA, teams lie about injuries and stash perfectly healthy players on the injured list in order to avoid releasing them. When Latrell Sprewell returned to the New York Knicks the other day, the team cleared a roster spot by putting Mark Pope on the injured list with (wink, wink) lower back pain.

No wonder the Sacramento State players didn't really think they were doing anything wrong. They've grown up in a culture of dishonesty, where the philosophy is that if a rule is broken often enough, it ceases to be a rule. They thought they were just being clever, bending the sporting law in search of that one little edge that separates winners from losers, like the middle infielder who doesn't actually touch the second base bag when he turns the double play or the power forward who steps on his opponent's foot to keep him from going up for a rebound. Whenever a player is described as knowing the "tricks of the trade," it means he knows how to cheat, and more often than not, he's admired for it.

This wasn't just four football players having a Martha Stewart moment (Can't you just hear her?: "A bit of nonstick cooking oil applied just below the shoulder pads will really keep those pesky left tackles away.") It was a group of athletes so accustomed to dishonesty passing for gamesmanship that they didn't even bother to hide their little scheme by greasing up in the privacy of the locker room. In fact, they hatched the idea when one of them saw footage of an NFL player, former nose tackle Jim Burt, doing it years ago in a playoff game.

Who says that football players are dumb? The Sac State Four seem to have learned their lessons quite well.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor writes about a Hot Button issue every Monday on CNNSI.com

 

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