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The late Timothy S. Healy S.J. observed that a university, at its core, is a home for great conversations: conversations meant not to confirm but to challenge; to make that which is lacking, better, and that which is good, greater.

The Georgetown basketball program, or perhaps more importantly, the Georgetown basketball brand, is aground. Visitors pass in the night, gazing at the great battleship, listing in the harbor. With its old captain gone, it is left with tales of battles long ago, except this generation wasn't around to see it, and doesn't care to hear it anymore.

At 18 consecutive losses, there are no editorials or commentaries in The HOYA or The Voice, not a one. The plight of a 6-22 record arouses no passion on campus or calls to action. The yawn has replaced the yell.

Prominent voices in the sports community seem unwilling to cast light on the Hoyas' plight in public. This past Friday, ESPN's Michael Wilbon spoke of Georgetown the same way he would speak of a dying relative in the hospital: outwardly hopeful but visibly shaken over the words he may one day have to say. Georgetown was, to fellow ESPN observer Tony Kornheiser, "once a very, very big deal in college basketball." But even Kornheiser, a veteran of the Washington press corps for 43 years, couldn't say the three words to inevitably follow: "but not anymore."

I have supported Georgetown basketball since I first walked into McDonough Gymnasium 42 years ago, and have written about this team for 28 of those years. More than an avocation, I consider men's basketball an institutional pillar of what Jack DeGioia has called the "ethos and culture" that defines the Georgetown experience.

Basketball is as synonymous with Georgetown as football is to Notre Dame, and for good reason. For 50 years, basketball has provided this community with a sense of pride through performance, championships with integrity, and a social conscience. But more than mere success, this program sought a more elusive standard: excellence.

At one time, competitive excellence at Georgetown reflected, to borrow the words of John F. Kennedy, a challenge we were willing to accept, unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win. And to the surprise of many, Georgetown did all three, a result of vision, values, and a touch of swagger--remembered fondly by those of us that were fortunate to see it, but increasingly indifferent to those who see no such excellence today, and to whom March Madness means watching someone else's school on television every year.


If Georgetown is truly at its nadir, it's been trending that way for more years than we would care to admit.

Since the Final Four in 2007, Georgetown has not made the second weekend of the NCAA tournament since; in fact, this team has posted one winning season in the last seven years and a grand total of two NCAA wins in the past 13 seasons combined. By contrast, the men's soccer team has 17 NCAA wins, three Final Fours, and a national championship during those same years.

Sunday's loss concluded the lowest attendance figures since games were moved off campus: 5,525 a game, a decline of 35 percent since 2020 and 56 percent since 2012. That's more than an incidental loss for a school whose basketball budget of $13.8 million is among the largest in the nation, spending more in 2021 than the likes of Baylor, Kansas, or North Carolina, and earning less in return than any of them.

In 2004, Craig Esherick, an unfortunate target of fans and critics alike, completed his fifth season at 13-15 and a cumulative record of 103-74, both of which were deemed as unacceptable by the University. In five seasons, Patrick Ewing stands at just 68 wins.

But try as some might, this is not all about Ewing. He is a byproduct of a larger problem. For no matter if Ewing is here for another month, another year, or for another 15 years until John Thompson IV is named the next head coach, this program has a disconnect: a disconnect with its fan base, with its University, and with college basketball.

The management style of Georgetown basketball has long been comfortable with a phrase common in legacy businesses: "Because we've always done it this way." This approach no longer works in business and that no longer works at Georgetown. For that reason, and many others, there needs to be a community conversation about basketball at Georgetown, and perhaps an uncomfortable one at that.

Such candor is not easy at a University where the power of the bureaucracy falls somewhere between the Pentagon and the Roman Curia, a culture that prefers such talk kept out of public consumption and handled "in the family". But it's no longer enough to assume that this approach is the only way forward. It's also not enough to run a major college program on a business model created in 1972.


On a popular Facebook forum known as the " #1 Big East/Georgetown Hoyas Only Group", an alumnus posed this question last week:


"My biggest question with Georgetown right now is on the brand...I'm an 2003 grad that has been relatively engaged and feels strong passion for Georgetown's impact on my life and I can tell you first-hand, my year and subsequent years, that I have a lot of friends [that] really seem to be [walking away] in terms of the strength of the donor base, and the connection they feel to Georgetown.

"I'd say that Georgetown basketball was a strong point of interaction, camaraderie and shared memories for so many of my closest friends and Georgetown games were a place in years after graduation that I have made many alumni connections and business introductions... Sports are more than just one down year of a team, they are about a culture of growing the brand and connections that expand to life, not just the game on the court.

I really hope the current trend is not being viewed as a secondary issue that Georgetown will just "emerge from". Programs that die sometimes stay dead or take decades to re-emerge...I hope this doesn't happen to us."



Strong organizations regularly examine their strategic positioning. In simplest terms, it's a study of strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats. Now is the time to build a framework for the next generation to support the Georgetown basketball brand at large, with the same passion and purpose that their fellow Hoyas did in years past.

At the end of this season, which is about 10 days away by current projections, an e-mail should be sent from the Department of Athletics to every single season ticket holder, single-game ticket purchaser, and active donor to the Hoya Hoop Club, asking three questions:

1. Do you plan to purchase (or renew) season tickets for the 2022-23 season?

2. Do you plan to maintain (or increase) your gift to Georgetown Athletics in the 2022-23 fiscal year?

3. Are you resolute in your support of the program for the 2022-23 season?

The results may be surprising to some and expected by others. But it provides a start to plan for the future. Because this season has only confirmed that what worked in 1984 isn't working anymore, and it's time to talk about it.

--JR