Homework.

It’s the common denominator among all college students, whether they are dedicated biophysics majors or rising athletes.

It’s instrumental in the progress of a determined chemistry student. It’s not so critical for a guy like Evan Turner, a star athlete with no doubts about his professional future.

In fact, Turner said before this season that the one qualm he had about returning for his junior year was the nightly dose of reading, writing and thinking.

Nonetheless, the National Player of the Year candidate remained on campus for a third season.

Now, while leading the Buckeyes in nearly every statistical category, Turner might as well slam his textbooks shut.

A college education is beneficial to anyone, but not everyone. Turner can Google his name and find NBA Draft experts raving about him as the second or third best prospect on the college basketball landscape. That should tell him enough about how he should order his priorities.

The top athlete at a premier athletic institution should focus solely on his or her sport.

If athletes earned money in college, it would severely hamper their determination and drive toward reaching the professional plateau. Still, the rampant questioning of the treatment of college athletes has diluted the system.

Here’s how Turner’s daily itinerary would look if he illegally received some form of payment while in school:

7:44 a.m.: Turner wakes up, stretches out the back he broke in December, then sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for a ball boy to fetch him his toothbrush.

8:28 a.m.: The junior arrives at his 8:30 class and grabs a seat in the back row, where he can take a nap without interruption. After all, he has a tutor for learning purposes. Attending class is just making a public appearance. It’s in the contract, er, scholarship.

12:03 p.m.: Turner treats his boys to lunch at Applebee’s. He’s the one raking in the dough, so he can help his crew out every so often. Turner chooses his restaurant wisely; he wouldn’t want to raise questions by taking his buddies to a fancy steakhouse. Instead, they’re all “eating good in the neighborhood,” and no one seems to care.

2:15 p.m.: The soon-to-be All-American checks in with his tutor just minutes before an exam. He quickly memorizes a sequence of A’s, B’s, C’s and D’s, ignoring six weeks of economics material.

2:37 p.m.: Turner finishes his midterm in record time.

3:30 p.m.: Basketball practice. Turner arrives early and stays late.
Some might contend that that schedule accurately represents the daily routine of a college athlete, with or without pay. But I’d be hard-pressed to believe that Turner follows a schedule that remotely resembles it.

At this point in Turner’s career, nothing is guaranteed. Others will speculate on his bright future, but until he crosses that capital “T” on a professional contract, he isn’t assured a penny.

That keeps him, and all (OK, most) hyped-up athletes in check, whether it lasts for one collegiate year or four.