Earlier this week, I read an online article describing what I call the “Big Man On Campus” (BMOC) effect on student-athletes who are loved at universities and colleges nationwide. Pick up the underrated college football flick “The Program,” starring Omar Epps, and see what the BMOC effect really is. With a soundtrack of late ’80s electro-pop rock and athletes in short shorts sporting blow-out or flat-top haircuts, “The Program” embodies collegiate sports fame: athletes getting all the girls, getting money in their pockets (did I say that out loud?), and generally ruling school, while getting more than a little help with their school work. While the earlier article does not claim that such a fictitious world actually exists, it does present college athletes as generally sought-after people, whether for signed autographs, simple adoration, or sexual conquest.

Today, I claim that the BMOC effect is not universal, not national, and not even regional. Granted, I only speak for the NESCAC and even then only one liberal arts school in it that’s not known for its sports. But athletes here are perceived as more Stephon Marbury than Tom Brady: less the ideal of perfection and more an acrid mixture of cockiness, stupidity and an uncaring fan-base.

To quote the great Rodney Dangerfield, here in Middletown, there is “no respect!” You’d think with 26 varsity sports, a newly refurbished and upgraded athletic center, a brand new turf field, and seven NCAA appearances by teams or individuals over the past two years, there would be some reverence given to those who compete. But no. Mention you are an athlete to a passing student and you are more likely to get a cold shoulder or a scoff than any eye-widened interest. This is for a variety of reasons, some clearly restricted to Wesleyan and some more multilateral, so here goes:

Our non-athlete student body doesn’t really make time for sports. They are not of prime interest on any level. Campus movies, band performances, or a cappella shows will all take priority over games, not to mention schoolwork. This could be due to the singular make-up of Wesleyan, which as we all know is not athletically-oriented, and to an extracurricular diversity that doesn’t seem to attract mass athletic interest. But any given Saturday in the fall, if you actually counted, you could probably find more people in our two libraries than out on our football field watching that week’s game. I would honestly challenge someone to tally these numbers and prove me wrong.

Another reason is mediocrity. Success breeds popularity, as we have all seen with the unprecedented ratings Patriots games have gotten this season. Wesleyan sports aren’t great, usually around .500. As such, campus-wide enthusiasm for the games or respect for the players cannot be expected. Who pats someone on the back for barely passing all his classes? This, I believe, is not restricted to Wesleyan, and I’m sure many campuses where sports aren’t exactly Big Ten material reflect the same lackluster excitement from their student bodies.

Furthermore, athletes are downright vilified on campus. Again, mention you are an athlete and, whether it’s said to your face or not, you are assumedly stupid. Well — maybe not stupid, but not as smart as the person you are talking to if that person is a non-athlete. This is due in part to the outward perception of the admissions process. Student-athletes, while not able to get athletic scholarships in the NESCAC, can receive slotted-help from their coaches, which can absolutely help a kid get into school. It is closed-minded to assume someone got such help when only a small percentage of athletes do, who are then assumed to be less intelligent, but there it is. At a supposedly intellectually-savvy university such as ours, athlete = dumb and thus not respected.

There is also a clique-type connotation that comes with being an athlete that immediately restricts one’s social spectrum. Girls and guys do not flock from all edges of campus to try to hook up with athletes or attend their games. Now don’t get me wrong, there are those that are eager for social time with athletes here, but they are a vast minority. Think of them as a small coalition of groupies for a band like Sum 41. For those that don’t compete in competitive sports, athlete can sometimes imply fraternity, conservative, asshole, or meathead to non-athletes and because of this non-athletes are less inclined to make an effort to hang out with or befriend an athlete. Basically, sometimes by choice but also because they are the antithesis of exceptional here, an athlete’s friends become their teammates more often than not: so much for the BMOC effect.

Now, I don’t mean to criticize our campus at all—certain campuses function certain ways and I appreciate the way ours does. Very simply, I mean to highlight the relationship between athletes and non-athletes here, which is rocky at best. And yes, athletes must shoulder some of the blame for at times personifying the asshole meatheads that they are perceived to be and promoting their own isolation by not branching out. I feel like I can comment because I’ve been both a student-athlete here and a non-athlete. I’ve seen the social effects of both roles and I can confidently say that the adoration some big-time sports schools might have for their athletes doesn’t correlate to our campus. This could be due to the fact that hipsters outweigh hoopsters about 10.25:1 here, but it is certainly true that beauty or more aptly praise is in the mind of the beholder, not in his or her athletic ability.