The process of “tanking” by a professional team in order to enhance its draft position presents an interesting ethical question.  First, by tanking, I mean the situation where a professional team intentionally does not use its best available players in a contest.  I am not saying that the players who actually participate in the game(s) give less than their best effort.  I am saying that management and coaches make a decision that they will use relatively inferior players in a game, even though better players are healthy and available, and even though that course of action is more likely to result in a loss.

The justification used is sometimes that of “looking to see what we have for the future,” or “wanting to make sure that we don’t aggravate an injury,” but it’s typically clear that the team in question has given up on the season and wants to position itself most favorably for the upcoming draft.  Of course, this raises the question as to who will win when two teams jockeying for favorable draft position play each other.

In the NFL, perhaps the most recent notable example of alleged tanking took place in the 2011-12 season, when Andrew Luck of Stanford was the presumed top pick in waiting in the 2012 draft. Here is one prominent talk-show host’s take on the matter at the time, and he was not alone in his opinion that it is fine for a team to set itself up to underperform if by doing so there is a chance to land a top player.

I do not recall hearing any of those analysts say that the greater ethical good is realized when an NFL team maximizes its effort game in and game out, even if that produces middling results.  In fact, during Luck’s senior year, I recall hearing many NFL analysts discuss the desirability of a team landing Luck even at the cost of setting itself up to have a terrible season.

We often hear that the worst place for a professional team is in the vast no-man’s land of mediocrity. While coaches in the college ranks are praised for producing teams that appear to over-achieve, and college programs viewed as overachievers are looked up to by the media and the public, it seems that the opposite is true in the professional ranks.  Of course, the player draft provides a carrot for struggling teams at the professional level, while no such process for rewarding failure exists at the college level, and the structure of the draft would appear to drive unethical sporting behavior.

History demonstrates that all of us (owners, GM’s, coaches, players and fans) are prepared to leave our ethics at the door when we enter the domain of professional sports, at least in terms of our expectations for teams’ putting forth a genuine effort to win every game. Would we accept a high school or college team setting itself up to lose?  I doubt it.  Why do we accept it at the professional level? I think it’s because we are seduced by visions of a better future, visions of a franchise savior who will come to us through the draft.

Of course, while we fans are putting up with an inferior product while our team positions itself for a more favorable draft outcome, I don’t think we should hold our breaths waiting for our team to lower its prices for parking, concessions, souvenirs or tickets.

Many fans participated in sports as youngsters. We were always taught that it is essential to maximize our effort on every play in every game. If we were lucky, we were also taught that there are other values in addition to success on the scoreboard (see Jim Thompson’s book on the Double-Goal Coach for the ideal approach to youth coaching). I find it ironic that at the professional level, where it’s supposed to be clear what we’re all about (“Just win, baby” as Al Davis used to say), we are fine with a “Just lose, baby” approach if it helps our draft position.

Perhaps changing the rules of the drafts in professional sports to reduce the reward for failure would result in a more ethical approach to the spirit of competition. I’d sure be willing to see a different draft model. How about you?

Comments? Please contact me at mgilleran@scu.edu. Thanks.