As a young, aspiring basketball coach, I relied on my far more accomplished brother Jim for advice. One of the simple rules he taught me, when I asked if a certain coaching job was worth pursuing, is what I came to call the logo shirt rule.
He said, “Imagine yourself pulling that new shirt over your head with the name of your new school on the chest. Are you excited? Energized? Then that’s a job worth pursuing. It has to make you proud to wear it.”
I have been an alumnus of Virginia Wesleyan for 46 years. There has never been a time in those almost five decades when I have put on an article of clothing — a shirt, a hat, a jacket — adorned with the name of my alma mater, where I didn’t feel a tangible pride, that excitement of which my brother spoke.
Virginia Wesleyan was then, and has ever since, stayed in my mind as a unique and wonderful place. As a guy who has made his living running around the country as a basketball coach or broadcast game analyst on more than a hundred different campuses, I can say my assessment has only been confirmed about what a special, unique place Virginia Wesleyan had remained.
Until today. Pulling on a shirt that says “Batten University” elicits nothing but heartbreak. Not because of the Batten family — I don’t know them at all — but because the simple act of changing the name and the manner in which it happened is contradictory to everything that made Wesleyan special.
From our first president, Lambuth Clarke on down, you were made to feel you were important.
I was discussing this recently with a classmate of mine. We were recalling the time a snowstorm hit our campus one morning. We weren’t sure if classes were going to be held or not so we were just wandering around the library, where the upstairs classrooms were to hold the class.
That building also housed the Office of the President, the aforementioned Lambuth Clarke. Upon seeing the two of us aimlessly wandering around in the uncertainty of the snowy morning, he suggested we join him in his office for a cup of coffee.
When it turned out classes were, in fact, canceled, he graciously continued to host us warmly for close to an hour, making us feel that we had something useful to say and worthwhile for him to hear.
That was more than 40 years ago, and I still vividly remember being amazed that the president — the president! — hosted me and another sophomore in his office and made it feel as natural as the snow that fell just outside his window.
That was the Wesleyan way, to make you feel that your voice mattered. Words of encouragement or approval — these are powerful things when you are a young man or young woman. It made us all feel like we were special and that we could make a difference.
We could be heard.
Now, it is clear that the vast majority of alumni are dissatisfied with this recent name changing decision. Many — like me — are outraged.
Were we being lied to when we were told our voice in the world would matter? We would be heard?
We can’t even get our own school to listen.
If you don’t think that feeling of being ignored in this whole process doesn’t taint the memories of that unique atmosphere that was Virginia Wesleyan, then you don’t know what Wesleyan is — was — about.
My brother and father both went to Rutgers, and that university’s motto, which I’ve always admired, is, “Forever changing yet eternally the same.”
I always thought that beautiful sentiment applied to my alma mater, too.
Sadly, no more, undermined by this poorly orchestrated and baffling decision.
There’s still time to find a path that achieves the financial objectives desired, but also truly reflects the entire community, not just the closeted objectives of a few.
That’s true leadership.
I’m not alone in my heartbreak. Anybody listening?
Bob Valvano of Louisville, Ky., is a former basketball coach, sports broadcaster and a 1979 cum laude graduate of Virginia Wesleyan. He is a 2009 inductee of the VWU Athletic Hall of Fame.
