McCARTHY: BU hockey scandal part of nationwide problem

For almost the last two weeks, the BU campus has been consumed by the allegations against former men’s hockey player Max Nicastro, and the debate as to whether the allegations are indicative of a larger problem on campus.

Taken in conjunction with the dismissal of former teammate Corey Trivino for an incident involving sexual assault in the December, Nicastro’s alleged actions make a trend. Given this concerning reality, some have begun to question the status that the men’s hockey program enjoys on campus, and whether or not it is the driving factor behind Trivino and Nicastro’s actions.

In turn, this has sparked a much-needed debate about the troubling rise in the commonality of sexual assault and its apparent connection to BU hockey.

In the face of a national story taking place on our own campus, it has been understandably difficult to shift our gaze elsewhere. If one does though, he will find that similar conversations are taking place on other campuses at this very moment as well. The similarities, however, are not in the crimes themselves, but in the underlying theme of the role that major athletics played in their occurrence.

This being the case, it leaves me wondering what the prevailing discussion should be here at BU. Is this solely a problematic connection between BU hockey players and sexual assault? Or should the recent troubles surrounding BU hockey be part of a larger conversation about the overwhelming sense of entitlement some Division I athletes enjoy?

I do not have the answers by any means, but it is certainly something worth exploring further.

On May 3, 2010, University of Virginia women’s lacrosse player Yeardley Love was found dead in her Charlottesville apartment. Authorities were quick to apprehend her ex-boyfriend and men’s lacrosse player, George Huguely. Almost immediately, he openly admitted to kicking in her door, violently shaking her and hitting her head against the wall.

It was obvious to everyone, including Huguely, that he had caused the tragic death of Love. It was left up to the jury, however, to decide whether it was an accident or if Huguely made a conscious decision to kill his former girlfriend in a fit of drunken, jealous rage.

Last Wednesday, the jury came forward with a ruling that fell in between those requested by the defense and prosecution: second-degree murder. When the verdict was announced, the jury also recommended a sentence of 26 years for his crimes. It was, to say the least, a tragic ending to a tragic story.

While the trial is now over, the debate about the circumstances surrounding Love’s devastating death still rages on at UVA.

From day one, this story was always as much about Virginia lacrosse as it was about Huguely and Love. The media were quick to point out that lacrosse was an especially tight-knit and elite community at UVA. Nearly every description of Huguely noted that not only was he a star lacrosse player, but he had also been a starting quarterback in high school.

Huguely had a history of alcohol-related violence, and it seems as if this should have been the focus of the coverage. He was an alcoholic and an abusive boyfriend, and when the beast inside him reared its ugly head, he couldn’t control it. This should have been the only narrative that mattered.

Always at the forefront, however, was the story of a privileged star athlete who could not handle the fact that his ex-girlfriend had begun dating a player at a rival university. The background became one of college athletics, not the history of abuse.

What does this mean? Is this simply media spin? Or is it possible that the circumstances that led to Love’s death could only have arisen within the bubble of major college athletics?

This past Sunday morning, University of Kentucky star linebacker Ridge Wilson was arrested in Louisville, Ky., with a bag full of Xanax pills and almost $2,000 in cash. According to the arresting officer, he pulled Wilson over because he looked suspicious and he was in a part of the city notorious for drug trafficking.

Upon approaching the car, the officer was immediately informed by Wilson that he played football at the University of Kentucky. After the discovery of the drugs and cash, he continued to nervously tell the officer the he was a football player at Kentucky. In fact, it is noted on the police report multiple times that he did not stop telling anyone who would listen that he played football at UK.

Wilson has since been dismissed from the Kentucky football program, and it is evident that his football career is now over.

The developing story, however, is not one of a player who tragically threw away a promising future for drugs. The part of the story that everyone seems to focus on is Wilson’s immediate and persistent disclosure that he was an athlete for the state’s flagship athletic program.

Many wonder whether he played that card out of desperation, or if there was a realistic expectation that it would make a difference. Some have gone so far as to question whether things would have played out differently had the arrest occurred in Lexington, the home of UK, and not Louisville.

Basically, did Wilson honestly believe that his status as UK football player placed him above the law? If this is the case, was this a realistic assumption on his part? And if so, does Wilson begin dealing prescription drugs without the sense of entitlement gained by being a major college athlete?

The stories of Trivino, Nicastro, Huguely and Wilson are all very, very different. I do not intend to compare their individual alleged crimes on any level. My intention is to draw attention to the fact that in each case the alleged crimes have sparked similar discussions on their respective campuses.

In all three situations, the spotlight has focused as much on the role of athletics in the alleged crimes as it has on the alleged crimes themselves.

In the past few days, most have wondered why this is happening at BU. Are the recent allegations indicative of a campus wide problem? Or should the blame fall solely on the BU hockey program?

This is natural.

When a national story takes place at home, it is difficult to see anything but the dilemma immediately at hand.  As we ask these questions, however, it is important to take note of the fact that ours is not the only campus with an open dialogue. In turn, we must ask ourselves where our unique and troubling problem fits within the national narrative regarding major college athletics and the conduct of its athletes.