The Varsity Blues scandal is over. But the anxiety it created? That’s just getting started.
When we think of getting into a top-tier university, we usually think of late-night study sessions, stressful SAT prep, and essays that try to pack four years of "personality" into 650 words. We think of merit. Varsity Blues
These parents weren't just buying a spot. They were stealing a spot from a real student. Somewhere out there, a high schooler who actually spent 6 AM practices on the water, who had the blisters and the calluses to prove their dedication to crew, got a rejection letter. That rejection letter wasn't sent because they weren't good enough. It was sent because a famous actress needed a "side door." The Varsity Blues scandal is over
It validated every suspicion middle-class families have had for decades: The game is rigged. In the immediate wake of the scandal, USC, Yale, Stanford, and Georgetown all tightened their athletic recruiting protocols. The Department of Education opened investigations. Rick Singer pleaded guilty and is awaiting sentencing (he faces decades in prison). When we think of getting into a top-tier
But watching a coach admit a kid for a sport they’ve never played—while another kid with the exact same GPA gets a fat envelope from a state school—has left a sour taste.
The scandal didn't break the system. It just showed us how the system already worked for the rich. The only difference was that Singer’s clients were too impatient and too insecure to use the back door. They wanted a guarantee. Perhaps the biggest casualty of Varsity Blues is our collective belief in the American meritocracy. We want to believe that if you work hard, get the grades, and do the sport, you’ll get your shot.