Little 5 dualism

“I’ve attended Super Bowls, World Series and the Monaco Grand Prix,” Lance Armstrong said. “But the coolest event I ever attended was the Little 500.”

A week from now, Bloomington will find itself immersed in the ecstasy and chaos of the “world’s greatest college weekend.” To freshmen: Brace yourselves. To veteran Little 500 celebrants: Savor next week, for there will come a time when sitting in your front lawn and enjoying an alcoholic beverage at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday will be considered unacceptable.

You might have difficulty imagining a time when Little 500 wasn’t an unofficial week-long holiday, when the race itself was still the main attraction and when professors could schedule exams in mid-April without being black-listed by their students. 

We have come a long way since 1950 when Howdy Wilcox, executive director of the IU Foundation, decided to start a bike race that might generate funds for scholarships. Of course, the event received nice promotion from the Oscar-winning classic “Breaking Away” (1979).

The list of notable attendees grew last year when then-presidential candidate Barack Obama made a surprise visit for the women’s race. And since the race’s inception, the Foundation has raised more than $1.4 million for working students in need of financial assistance.

From its beginning, Little 500 endeavored to promote the highest of collegiate ideals: scholarship, determination, courage, persistence. To discover the spirit of an enduring dream – of virile competition and reverence for tradition – one must examine the Little 500 cyclist.

I’ve come to anticipate the feverish excitement of Little 500 as much as anyone. But among non-racers, as we’re all aware, the sporting event has generated a strange culture of its own. As I prepare for the sweeping transformation about to engulf our otherwise bucolic campus, I find it hard to conceive of Little 500 as anything other than a radical cultural phenomenon.

ESPN sports columnist Jim Caple has labeled it “Hoosiers gone wild, Oktoberfest in April.” The arrival of spring, the imminent summer holiday and university-wide jubilation produce a mentality of excess and self-obliteration. Little 500 somehow signals the abandonment of restraint and the abdication of responsibility.

A year ago, the DMX concert at Lambda Chi Alpha erupted in disorder when police tried to enforce a noise ordinance. Security officers sprayed attendees with mace, and a frantic student exodus prompted the temporary closure of Third Street. 

Also, the proliferation of auxiliary police units can be overwhelming, a factor that perhaps exacerbates the already manic demeanor of students. Then again, the presence of additional security units might be the only force preventing mass pandemonium.

Although it defies the original aims of the race itself, the behavior that now epitomizes Little 500 culture is more representative of collegiate life at large – or at least a common perception of it. Labeling Little 500 the “world’s greatest college weekend” reflects the fact that sex, drugs and alcohol have become as much a part of the university image as textbooks and coffee mugs – as if the meaning of college itself is now defined primarily in terms of indulgence and immoderation.

And if this is the case, next week will be a substantive learning experience for all of us.