It seems like yesterday, but it was January 13, 1985, at 1 p.m. in Nashville, Tennessee. All we knew as we filed into Jefferson B at the Opryland Hotel was that the NCAA Convention program had listed a meeting of faculty athletics representatives. This was new. Sure, in the 1890s, FARs played a leading role in intercollegiate athletics. But that was when college sports were in their infancy. So, there was a genuine degree of positive anticipation at this gathering.

We didn't wait long to organize, electing Bill Bradford of Duke University as president, myself as vice-president and Frank Bonner of Furman University as secretary-treasurer. Thus was born the Faculty Athletics Representatives Association (FARA). For a short period we called ourselves a forum and our leader a chair, but anyone who insists that FARA didn't begin until 1988 is misled. The essential goals that continue to guide FARA -- a desire to enhance the role of the FAR in NCAA governance, restore integrity and protect student-athlete welfare -- were put firmly in place in 1985.

FARA 'does something'

At our next meeting in New Orleans, we adjusted. Bradford had completed his term at Duke and I stepped aside to allow Bonner, who was soon retiring, to become our leader for two years. Bonner, dedicated in the manner of Earl Ramer of the University of Tennessee, Knoxville (who in 1980 wrote the first of several FAR handbooks), undertook to write the Articles of Organization, which were adopted.

We hoped we could "save" intercollegiate athletics and stop what Walter Byers would later call the "train of professionalism." We wanted to protect those student-athletes whose academic lives were being run roughshod by this train. (I even suggested at a 1989 meeting that we should have separate categories: "athletes only" and "student-athletes." Some cried "hypocrisy." Others cried, "So, what's new?")

Actually, many of us realized that we already had earned NCAA battlefield stripes while fighting for student-athlete rights well before 1985. Many had struggled for seven years to overturn the so-called "five-year rule," but there were only a handful of supporters in 1975. Divisions II and III wanted a 10-semester rule, but because the rule was a common bylaw requiring a two-thirds majority vote, we needed the support of Division I, and they were nearly paranoid about the issue.

Finally, in Houston in year seven, 1982, a parliamentary solution was agreed upon: Division I would vote in favor of the proposal to abolish the rule and promptly restore it for themselves on the very next ballot. As I remember, Dan Gibbens, FAR and law professor at the University of Oklahoma, spoke in favor of the change, and to me, that helped turn the tide. Everybody won.

I learned something important during this "seven-year war." The NCAA Manual was full of legislation supported by Division I athletics directors, conference commissioners and FARs that was aimed at catching the "cheaters." Violators made up a small percentage of the membership, but these rules ironically penalized the honest folks who composed by far the largest percentage. And the five-year rule was a glaring example. That "catch-the-cheater" mentality persists, but is diminishing.

A pivotal year for our fledgling organization was 1987. Joe Geraud of the University of Wyoming persuaded us that if FARA who going to establish itself, it had to "do something." Thus we initiated the Academic (later Legislative) Review Committee, which conducted an NCAA-funded meeting in Kansas City, Missouri. We analyzed the academic impact of proposed legislation and wrote a report that the NCAA then mailed to reps before the Convention. Geraud was right. That report gave us much credibility.

Another milestone came in January 1989 with the passage of Proposal No. 54 (Institutional Control -- Faculty Athletics Representative). In all the years of its existence, the NCAA had not required institutions to appoint an FAR. However, Proposal 54 did not give us all we wanted. The original legislation stated: "An institution shall designate a member of its faculty to serve as faculty athletics representative." However, this was a "common vote" and the folks in Division I threatened to defeat No. 54 unless it was reworded to include "or an administrator who holds faculty rank." So, we compromised and the legislation passed.

Today, reps lament the increasing number of administrators who have been appointed. It isn't that administrators are not well-intended or haven't at some time been in the classroom. However, they lack the immediacy of today's classroom or laboratory experience to help them see first-hand the impact of a six-game baseball weekend or three-day or four-day golf tournament on a student-athlete's academic commitment. When the debate is joined over the length of practice and playing seasons, the faculty representative is better informed than the conference commissioner, the registrar, and, yes, the dean and the CEO. Too often, however, on committees and councils the reps voice is sometimes but one in 10.

Where does academics rank now?

While some administrators, trustees and boosters clamor for luxury suites, top-10 rankings and more playoff games, faculty clamor for more sanity and less professionalism -- in all divisions. Professors value athletes who are legitimate students in legitimate academic programs, not those "made to order." Academics care that their institution's athletics programs are clean.

While they appreciate that money is crucial, they don't want it to be the determining criterion in nearly every case. In fact, Stanford University President John Hennessy, in the January/February 2003 issue of the Stanford Magazine, writes about "the abysmal graduation rate in premier sports." As to the cause, he says "there is a complicated set of factors, but at the base there is just one: money."

There was a time when we argued that NCAA governance should reflect a balanced triad: academics (FARs), athletics (ADs, SWAs) and administration (CEOs). Do we have a new model now? Marketing/sales (commissioners, ADs) and politics (administrators)? The emergence of commissioners in the mix is telling. Affiliated with no academy, often located in some remote office complex, their bottom line is revenue, not GPAs.

Thus, the FAR performs his or her most valuable service at home. While the FAR's voice is muted at NCAA and perhaps even in conference meetings where the debate is often joined over marketing and how extra games produce gate receipts, the FAR's work at home is priceless. As chair of the athletics committee, the FAR can advocate a student-athlete's right to have time for academic commitments and the faculty's right to have an athletics program that recognizes the primacy of academics.

At our institution, although our committee's first responsibility is to assure our faculty that the athletics program is sane, our second responsibility is to guard student-athlete quality of life. Although certifying eligibility is an important regulatory function, influencing the culture of his or her institution's athletics program in healthy ways is even more important.

On our campus, we see ourselves as an "enabling" committee, not "obstructionist." For example, we have established a campus leave-time policy, which limits student-athletes to six days away from campus per semester in the far-flung Rocky Mountain Athletic Conference, and there is now a make-up policy in the faculty handbook for missed class work. We have instituted a priority registration policy for athletes during their season of competition to reduce conflicts with practice. Our scheduling subcommittee, working with professors, has dramatically reduced the number of classes scheduled between 4 and 6 p.m. and is completing a proposal that will move common evening exams from 7 to 7:30 p.m.

A recently established fund-raising policy now limits athletes' time commitments in this regard. These policies will enable students to compete in Division II without compromising their academic obligation in our demanding engineering curriculum.

Nearly all those enabling policies have come as a result of an exit-interview process we initiated in 1999. All past and present committee members will tell you this is by far the most important work we do. Each semester we interview three or more athletes in each sport. Two faculty interview one student for 25 minutes, asking questions e-mailed in advance about academic issues and quality of life. Athletes tell us what they will not tell coaches or administrators, and we're convinced that in-person interviews are much more informative than impersonal questionnaires. Two years ago, we learned about the abhorrent conduct of one coach who subsequently was put on a "corrective action" program and thankfully resigned soon after. The players' quality of life has consequently improved considerably, as has the culture of the athletics program. The AD, who was somewhat skeptical when the interview process began, is no longer.

After 18 years of existence, how has FARA fared in meeting its 1985 goals -- what grades would it earn? Our role in NCAA governance? (D) Restoration of integrity? (In progress) Student-athlete welfare? (A for effort; B for our success against the momentum of professionalism.)

Listen to what Randy Cubero has to say. Randy has worked both sides of the aisle. A retired Air Force colonel who served as FAR at the Academy and now is the athletics director at the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs, he says: "The entire college sports world would be better if the FARs ran the conferences. There would be some things we would not do. They would draw the line."

John Hogan is the faculty athletics representative at Colorado School of Mines.