The NFL has tinkered with its policies
and tweaked its practices on minority hiring for over 20 years now. Yet the
league finds itself in the same position today – a couple of Black head coaches
– as in 2003 when the
Rooney Rule was implemented to increase diversity.
Sure, all 32 teams are now
required to have an offensive assistant coach who’s a minority, meaning “a
female or a member of an ethnic or racial minority.” But some teams already
have one or more coaches who fit that description, and we see where that’s
gotten us. Black candidates went 1-for-9 in landing head coaching jobs this year.
Instituting a mandate for assistant coaches won’t change owners’ hearts and
minds when it’s time fill the top spot.
Adding so-called “quota hires” to
the pool isn’t the answer.
The notion of hiring coaches based on race, ethnicity or gender is troubling, which isn’t to say the individuals are unqualified. Two things can be true. One can have impeccable credentials and receive preferential treatment.
Conflicted feelings are a part of
life and two of my extreme cases involve sports.
I root for the hometown New York Giants and the Dallas Cowboys in football, which is crazy because they’re division rivals who play twice a year and potentially can meet a third time in the playoffs. But I was a child when those allegiances formed, not understanding the dilemma they’d create.
Regarding basketball, I’m torn in a way that fellow Brooklyn native Spike Lee is not. Any team that reps my beloved borough is automatically my team, too – even if the Brooklyn Nets didn’t arrive until 2012. Yet, there’s no way to forsake a lifelong love affair with the New York Knicks.
As long as they play other teams, no
problem. But when they face off, it’s a no-win situation. I feel like Richard
Williams watching Venus and Serena play against each other, unable to fully
rejoice in either child’s success. When forced to endure inevitable matchups of
Giants vs. Cowboys, or Knicks vs. Nets, I simply assume the fetal position and
wait for the pain to end.
Which brings us to Kyrie Irving
and the coronavirus vaccination.
The Nets fan in me is ecstatic
that mayor Eric Adams lifted
the vaccine mandate for athletes and performers based in New York City. Irving,
arguably among the NBA’s top five guards, missed the Nets’ first 35 home games
because he refused to get vaccinated. Putting him on the court with Kevin
Durant, perhaps the league’s best player, gives Brooklyn a potent duo that
could lead to a championship.
Either way, Irving’s wizardry with
a basketball is spellbinding entertainment for hoops fans.
On the other hand, I hate that some
observers paint this as a victory for Irving, who presented himself as a martyr.
As a believer that everyone should take the vax, I kind of wish the mandate
stayed in place. Now “Uncle
Drew” is free to roll up and rescue the Nets as they struggle to improve their
playoff position.
But he’s not a victim and he’s not
a hero.
He’s just a selfish and irresponsible teammate who’s supremely talented.
A 21-second clip can teach you a
lot about the NFL, even if it’s only a player working out in shorts.
Prior to Friday, University of
Michigan linebacker David Ojabo was considered a possible top-10 pick in next
month’s draft. Then he suffered
a devastating Achilles injury while performing exercises in front of NFL scouts
at his school. Suffice it to say he’s no longer viewed as a top-10 pick, thanks
to a chilling moment captured on video.
Ojabo goes down about eight
seconds into the clip and grabs his lower left leg. As he rolls on the ground, wincing
and writhing in pain, only one onlooker makes a move. That dude walks ever so slowly
toward Ojabo … before veering to pass him and retrieve the football. He slowly walks
past Ojabo again, barely looking at the 6-foot-5, 225-pound young man who’s in
obvious distress.
If you didn’t know, now you know. That
short video sums up the NFL’s sensibilities and reminds anyone who forgot.
“I know the NFL is a cold business
but watching the lack of concern or empathy from the scouts, coaches and
observers following David Ojabo’s injury bugs me,” tweeted Bucky
Brooks, an NFL broadcaster and former player. “Perhaps someone should’ve
checked on him instead of grabbing the ball and moving to the next drill. Just
a thought.”
Not surprisingly, a former team
doctor totally
missed the point, believing that only trained professionals can be of
assistance. “I get this is a bad look,” tweeted David J. Chao, who once worked for
the San Diego Chargers. “But the NFL is so specialized, it is the job of the [Certified
Athletic Trainer] to run check on him. That is what happens to star players on
game day too.”
Doc should keep a low profile based
on his raggedy past. The Ojabo lesson isn’t about whose “job” includes checking
on an injured player. That’s not listed among teammates’ responsibilities, yet
they’ll comfort a fallen colleague on the game days that Chao mentions.
Like the coaches and scouts who
didn’t make a move, most of us aren’t doctors or trainers, either. But we would’ve
responded to Ojabo’s pain for a simple reason.
Regardless of clients’ guilt or innocence, attorneys are obliged
to provide a vigorous and competent defense, actively fighting for the
accused’s freedom will not judging or making moral decisions.
NFL quarterback Deshaun Watson has one of the best that money
can buy in Rusty Hardin, a particular favorite among star athletes. He
shepherded Watson through a grand jury process that resulted
in no criminal charges tied to allegations of misconduct during massage
therapy sessions.
Watson’s agent is no slouch either, a true ride-or-die
homey.
When the grand jury declined to indict Watson, David
Mulugheta tweeted “Keep the
same energy” to those who dare believe any of the women saying Watson committed
sexual harassment and/or assault. He would classify Watson’s case as “he said
vs. she said.” Actually, it’s “he said vs. she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-she-said.”
(That’s 22, if you’re counting.)
But Mulugheta wasn’t finished proving his loyalty. He
negotiated an NFL-record contract – $230 million guaranteed – between Watson
and the Cleveland Browns, who say they
traded for him after “extensive investigative, legal, and reference work
over the past several months.” Cleveland reached its conclusion without speaking
to the women or their attorney.
That’s like drawing a full picture with your eyes closed and hands tied behind your back.
The only team
that’s given Colin Kaepernick a workout since 2016 has an opening at quarterback,
his position.
Kaepernick, who
has trained nonstop and received a rave this week from a player on the team,
still wants to play.
Seems simple
enough. But the head coach – Pete Carroll of the Seattle Seahawks – sounds awfully
confused.
“Does that guy
deserve a second shot? I think he does. Somewhere.” Carroll
told reporters Wednesday after saying Kaepernick asked for a tryout. “I
don’t know if it’s here. I don’t know where it is. I don’t know if it’s even in
football. I don’t know.”
But we know. Actions
talk and BS walks, and the NFL is full of it. The league has wanted no parts of
Kaepernick since he protested social injustice by kneeling during the national
anthem in 2016, his last NFL season.
Funny how
Carroll was crystal clear in 2017 after bringing him in for a workout. “He’s a
starter in this league, and we have a starter,” the
coach told reporters. “But he’s a starter in this league, and I can’t
imagine that somebody won’t give him a chance to play.” Carroll wasn’t perplexed
in June 2020 either, expressing
regret that Seattle didn’t sign him three years earlier. “The reason it
wasn’t the right fit is because I held him in such a high regard,” he said. “I didn’t
see him as a backup quarterback and I didn’t want to put him in that situation
with [Russell Wilson].”
Now that Wilson
is gone and there’s a gaping hole at QB, Carroll isn’t certain about the fit. If
that’s the attitude from a one-time supporter, we can’t imagine anyone else giving
Kaepernick a chance, though they should.
There’s nothing
to lose by seeing if he can still play like Seattle wideout Tyler Lockett suggested Monday
in a tweet: “Yessir!! That man Kap is ready!!” There’s no guarantee that
any player would regain top form at Kaepernick’s age (34) after a five-year
layoff. But that’s the purpose of physical exams, workouts, and training camp.
Teams will give your grandfather a shot if they think Pop-Pop might help.
March Madness is back, signaling a
return of office pools, watch parties, and – if we’re lucky – a bunch of buzzer-beating
baskets throughout the tournaments.
It’s also fine time to recall a dirty
detail about this vast enterprise, a little fact that big-time college hoops
shares with big-time college football. Recent relaxations of NCAA rules might’ve
have obscured the truth and pushed it out of mind, but the reality remains
unchanged, so don’t get it twisted.
Consider this a friendly reminder:
Players aren’t compensated for the labor that produces ginormous bags for everyone
else, from coaches making eight figures, athletic directors making seven
figures, and down the line.
Former Ole Miss basketball player
Kylia Carter – mother of Orlando Magic forward and former Duke star Wendell
Carter Jr. – nailed it during
remarks to the Knight Commission on Intercollegiate Athletics in 2018. She
said the NCAA is a system “where the laborers are the only people that are not
being compensated for the work they do while those in charge receive mighty
compensation. The only two systems where I’ve known that to be in place are slavery
and the prison system.”
I know you’re thinking, “That’s changed. What about players’ deals for their name, image, and likeness? The NCAA allowed them to start making loot on NIL last summer. Doesn’t that count?”
Atlanta Falcons wide receiver Calvin Ridley might not
have a gambling problem, as he claims. But he definitely doesn’t have much
common sense, either. Otherwise, intuition would’ve kicked in and made him follow
the first rule for NFL players wagering on NFL games:
Let someone else make your bets.
Surely there’s a cuz or homey he could’ve trusted. Ridley could’ve
had them place $1,500 on three multilegged parlays involving several games last
November. Instead, he did itself – on his own cell phone – and got busted. The play
netted him a one-year suspension, at minimum, and cost the $11 million salary he
was slated to earn next season.
“Your actions put the integrity of the game at risk,
threatened to damage public confidence in professional football, and
potentially undermined the reputations of your fellow players throughout the
NFL,” commissioner Roger Goodellwrote
in a letter to Ridley notifying him of the suspension.
Maybe Ridley wasn’t paying attention in November 2019 when
the NFL suspended cornerback Josh Shaw for betting on football; Shaw’s
ban covered the rest of 2019 and the entire 2020 season for
a total of 21 games. Perhaps Ridley thought his actions were OK because he
picked the Falcons to win in each bet. Conceivably, he never imagined getting
caught breaking an NFL taboo that’s been in place since
at least the 1960s.
The first takeaway regarding last
week’s controversy over chartered flights for the WNBA’s New York Liberty is
simple:
Team owners Joe and Clara Wu Tsai
are straight gangsta.
They knew the league’s collective
bargaining agreement expressly forbids teams from using chartered flights. They
knew not every franchise has the stacks to provide such arrangements. They knew
there
could be serious repercussions if someone snitched and word got back to league
headquarters.
And the Tsais STILL said eff it.
They didn’t put the Liberty on a private
flight just one time, but for all five road games following last season’s All-Star
break. Oh yeah, a real boss move: They flew the team to Napa Valley for a
getaway over Labor Day weekend during the final road trip. Sabrina
Ionescu, who co-stars with Chris Paul in one of those State Farm
commercials, commemorated the excursion with a festive Tik Tok from
sun-drenched California: “Can your owners do this???? Wassup??!”
A few have the means to. But their “want to” has been diminished like the Tsais’ bank account, now 500 grand lighter after a league-record fine.
Major League Baseball commissioner
Rob Manfred and the owners he represents obviously don’t give a damn
about the sport, its players, or its fans.
There’s no other explanation for imposing
a lockout on Dec. 1 and waiting 43 days to make a proposal, before hastily pitching
a weak offer they knew the players couldn’t swallow. The owners seem intent on finally
breaking the players’ union, historically the most powerful among pro sports
leagues.
The 2022 season was set to begin
March 31, but Manfred & Co. canceled
the first week of games Tuesday after failing to reach a new collective bargaining
agreement. Now they need to hurry up and stop screwing around before the second
week is canceled, too, because that threatens the only baseball thingy many of us
might care about:
Seventy-five years ago, on April
15, 1947, Robinson broke baseball’s longstanding color line when he debuted for
the Brooklyn Dodgers. His legacy has been celebrated on that date annually throughout
MLB since 2004. Starting in 2009, all players and on-field personnel began
wearing Robinson’s No. 42 during games on that day. It’s the only time you’ll
see “42” on a major league uniform, as the number was retired across all teams
in 1997.
When Robinson trotted to his position at Ebbets Field, he helped move the nation – kicking and screaming for the most part – toward a more-inclusive society. He became a virtual one-man civil rights movement, years before sit-ins, freedom rides, boycotts, and protests became fixtures in the news cycle.
A recent news article revived
a question we often ponder: What is appropriate employment for individuals after
punishment?
Turns out that a man convicted of murder as a teenager, has served his 29-year sentence, completed an 18-month re-entry court program, and now does entry-level clerical work at the Prince George’s County (Md.) State’s Attorney’s Office. The victim’s step-brother said “it’s pretty disgusting” that the SAO made that hire.
Thankfully, it was dead on arrival, with Briles offering his resignation on Monday, just four days after being announced. “I feel that my continued presence will be a distraction … which is the last thing that I want,” Briles said in a statement according to ESPN.
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