The Big Ten Network has finally won my support, and all it had to do was use a classic logic-based argument that has convinced people of things for years: “You can have free beer.”

Before the beer I was unhappy about BTN, a television network ostensibly aiming to further the mission statements the esteemed institutions of higher learning it represents (and also Indiana University).

BTN, a premium sports station, makes it a pain for students at Big Ten schools to watch peers compete in interscholastic athletics. But I’m sure the rationale behind the network’s inception had the students’ best interests in mind. BTN motivates students to work hard in school so they can get good jobs, so after years of saving they can finally afford the only premium sports channel that lets them watch their alma mater lose by 30 points in the Big Ten-ACC Challenge.

Otherwise, the Big Ten is perverting college athletics purely for profit. Remember, college athletics is the segment of big-time sports that’s supposed to be pure and untainted – focused on goodwill, sportsmanship and higher learning. That’s why the athletes aren’t even paid for their efforts, with the exception of scholarships and booster-provided cars, apartments and cash.

If Big Ten universities were really that hard-up for cash, there are less sinister ways of raising funds. Off the top of my head, I’d suggest charging for premium back-row seating in lecture halls and maybe renting out pillows.

Anyway, the free beer followed the Illini’s 54-50 win over Minnesota in the Big Ten Tournament semifinals. I attended the game with a friend who I will refer to as “Paul Schmitt,” because that is his name. After watching our basketball squad do the University proud with a third underdog victory in as many days, Paul received a text message informing us of what was described as a “pep rally.” We were told to head to Union Station in Indianapolis, a few blocks away from Conseco Fieldhouse (where the tournament was held).

There was no telling what we’d find at the event, but we were in downtown Indianapolis, so our choices were basically the pep rally or going to an empty motor speedway and making “vroom” noises with our mouths.

We walked up the front steps of the defunct rail station into a large hall, where we were each handed a door prize of a “Big Ten Network” messenger bag loaded with assorted BTN-branded goodies. There was a BTN pad of paper, a little BTN squeezie basketball and a handheld electric fan with an LED that, when turned on, displayed the word “SUPERFAN.”

A live band played oldies dance tunes at the far end of the room; at several stations there were trays of self-serve cocktail food, tables with hundreds of cans of help-yourself soft drinks and a few open bars. I didn’t see any ice sculptures or mimes, but they could have just been hiding out in the back near the buffet, which was also free.

After Paul and I spent a few minutes walking around the dozens of tables seating assorted VIPs from each of the Big Ten universities, the Illinois and Wisconsin bands came out to perform their fight songs. This would have been great motivation for the players, had they been in attendance. Apparently nobody thought to invite them to their own party. Instead the pasty-faced VIPs, most of them wealthy alums, looked on dispassionately as the bands played. Paul and I danced along to some of the Illini fight songs, including the Oskee-Wow-Wow, because we were full of school spirit, by which I again mean “free beer.”

When we had eaten all the barbecue meatballs and pizza bagels we could get our hands on, we exited the building past a couple of Big Ten employees tearing tickets, which apparently were required for entry. It turned out Paul and I had unwittingly trespassed into an invite-only occasion, but there was no way they were going to make me give back the electric fan. It was too neat.

As the party raged on, scalpers lining the streets could barely unload tickets for the same basketball tournament the event celebrated. Paul and I bartered for a pair of floor level seats for the championship game, each with a face value of $85, for $25 apiece. Just to see where the market was, the morning of the last game I haggled scalpers down to their lowest prices, then told them I wasn’t interested. One guy, hawking seats in the upper deck that also retailed for $85, got all the way down to $10.

“Wow. Hmm. Well, actually, no thanks, I think I can do better,” I said.

“Get a job!” he snapped.

So tournament tickets were overpriced by as much as $75. And the first two rounds, in which only two NCAA-tournament qualifying teams managed to win a game, aired on the self-deigned “premium” BTN. But it’s okay that the Big Ten has no idea what its product is worth. The extra money all went to a good cause.

Burp.

Scott Green is a second-year law student.