This Time, Mighty Blenda Has Struck Out

Everybody knows the story of Mighty Casey.

Now consider “Blenda at the Bat.”

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Northridge Nine that day. . .

All leading to the moment when Mighty Blenda struck out.

There is no joy in Northridge, and the comparison to Casey seems apt.

Mighty Casey had been Mudville’s hero, a slugger of phenomenal talent. Mighty Blenda has been considered something of hero a at Cal State Northridge, a phenomenal talent in her realm.

Certainly no university president is without detractors, but even they typically acknowledge that Blenda J. Wilson has impressive qualities, a certain charisma even, that conveys warmth, seriousness, intelligence, competence. Kudos especially rolled in after her assertive, can-do response to the extensive damage caused by the Northridge earthquake. “She’s amazing,” an admirer on campus once told me. “It’s like she spreads fairy dust wherever she goes.”

This is why that, until now, controversies on campus have seldom sullied her reputation.

Mighty Casey had many fans, and Blenda Wilson has many too. The Mudville Gazette, you can bet, glorified Mighty Casey. And Wilson’s gotten plenty of good ink too, sometimes from me.

There’s been much to admire since she arrived five years ago from the University of Michigan at Dearborn. Whereas her predecessor, James Cleary, had been low-key and seemingly content with the status quo, Wilson seemed dynamic.

She wasn’t one to shy away from sensitive issues. When Jewish groups complained about black students inviting Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan to speak, Wilson, who is African American, both defended the students’ actions and made it a point to speak at synagogues. Her open-door diplomacy was evident again when some black student leaders protested the hiring of a white instructor in the Pan African Studies Department. Wilson met the students and explained why she disagreed with their perspective.

Still later Wilson was attacked for quite properly defending the Associated Students’ legal right to invite ex-Klansman David Duke for a debate on affirmative action. Some of Wilson’s critics on campus said she did Cal State Northridge proud with her poised response to political assaults.

But now the public and the press are not happy with Wilson. Mighty Blenda stepped into the batter’s box with feet of clay.

Strike 1, it could be said, was the years of administrative missteps that left Cal State Northridge’s athletic department in a bind. For years it has been thought that tight finances and gender equity requirements would force the university to drop some sports. Those are the same reasons Cal State Long Beach and Cal State Fullerton both wound up dropping football. Yet two years ago, for reasons that seemed odd then and unfortunate now, Northridge joined the Big Sky Conference, which requires its members to field football teams. Northridge thus has such unlikely rivals as the University of Montana.

Strike 2 was the decision itself. Rather than kiss off the Big Sky and go independent until a new alliance could be found, Wilson signed off on a plan to keep football and instead dump baseball, soccer, volleyball and swimming--men’s sports in which Northridge had a long history and considerable success. No decision would have been popular, but dropping football is more easily defended. The nature of baseball is such that Matador teams could knock off such powers as USC and UCLA, something that could never happen in football. There aren’t many Matador football fans to begin with--and how many would travel to Montana for a game?

Strike 3 was the uncharacteristically disastrous way in which Northridge delivered the bad news. Wilson wasn’t there that day. She was in Orange County attending a directors meeting for the Irvine Foundation and left two lieutenants to do the dirty work. One of Wilson’s great talents is public relations, no small matter for a university. Mighty Blenda could have at least fouled off a few pitches. She wasn’t there to take a swing.

Her absence may not have been the biggest blunder, but it was the most obvious.

Cynics may suggest that she wanted to duck this one. To give her the benefit of the doubt, it seems that she woefully miscalculated the public interest in the decision. The joke around here was that maybe Cal State Northridge needs a beeper endowment.

“There are a lot of real pluses to say about her,” one longtime faculty member said, speaking on condition of anonymity. But, the professor added, “a lot of what she does doesn’t respect the history we have on campus.”

Mighty Blenda’s image has probably been more lustrous off campus than on, but that might be true of every university president. This professor described herself as someone who says she cares little about the athletics program. By her comments she could not be easily classified as an admirer or a detractor of Wilson. “Certainly she has a lot of support on campus.”

After five years at Cal State Northridge, the professor noted, Wilson is still considered a rising star. Whereas Cleary was a lifer, everybody has always assumed that Northridge was a steppingstone for Wilson.

“Sometimes I feel we’re suffering for her career,” the professor said. “Sometimes I just wish she would become successful and get another job.”

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to him at The Times’ Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St. , Chatsworth, CA 91311, or via e-mail at scott.harris@latimes.com Please include a phone number.