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Arkansas State University budgeted $821,000 for athletics last year but spent $225,000 more than that. Tulane University allocated $2.6 million to its athletics program and overran that by $200,000. The University of Minnesota, with a $3.9 million athletics budget, is now saddled with a cumulative deficit of $450,000 and a possibility of having to use tuition income to pay the sporting bills. On many other campuses too, university presidents who once remained at a distance from athletics issues are struggling to contain repeated financial losses from sports.

"On the one hand, you recognize the fact that a solid athletics program is the principal coalescing force among alumni," says Ross Pritchard, president of 8,000-student Arkansas State. "Yet you are forced to recognize that the program operates at a loss and that you've got to pick up that loss from auxiliary moneys. That really puts the pressure on you." Echoes Stanford President Richard Lyman: "Those pressures are not going to diminish. Athletics costs are mounting faster than the cost of living, and most universities feel that they've exhausted such remedies as raising ticket prices dramatically."

The major problem, of course, is inflation. With the costs of team travel, equipment and athletics scholarships soaring, it has been estimated that fewer than 30 colleges out of more than 1,000 engaged in intercollegiate athletics are running profitable sports programs. A second financial headache comes from the federal mandate that women must soon be given equal opportunity in sports. Says Lyman: "Everybody is facing the Title IX requirement [of the Education Amendments, passed in 1972] to secure equity for women in intercollegiate athletics and to do so with reasonable dispatch. If we are soon going to grant large numbers of scholarships for women athletes, we're going to have to find the money somewhere. It just isn't forthcoming unless we can make some economies."

Full Ride. To economize, presidents are pushing for cutbacks in the number of coaches and scholarships. Tulane, for example, now gives out 101 athletic scholarships, at $5,530 each, which have added up to a whopping $558,530 this year. Many presidents are also in favor of cutting back on the amount of scholarships. They advocate "need-based scholarships"--in which aid would be based on the student's financial need, as it is in the Ivy League--instead of the current "full-ride," all-costs-paid scholarships.

Such proposals can cause sharp conflict between presidents and athletics directors. Many coaches, especially at football powerhouses, remain intent on recruiting top athletes at any cost. Some argue too that restrictions on scholarships would lead to cheating. The first major showdown came at last month's meeting of the National Collegiate Athletic Association, which operates as an almost autonomous association of college athletics directors and coaches. More than 60 presidents showed up (only two or three came in 1975), and many argued for "need-based" aid as a cost-cutting measure, but the proposal was soundly defeated. So was a proposal that would have given college presidents half the seats on the NCAA's governing council and executive committee. Says Notre Dame's executive vice president, the Rev. Edmund Joyce: "There is nothing wrong with a fine football team." Agrees Michigan's coach, Bo Schembechler: "We just want football players to get their just due--a full education."

Such resistance has forced some presidents to turn to telethons, free prizes at games, and athletic directors with lots of promotional ability. Still, says Pritchard, "you are working hard to eliminate a deficit. But at the same time, you've got these new programs [women's sports] coming in that will likely not be revenue-producing sports. So you are almost shoveling sand against the tide."

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