When I moved to Fort Myers, Fla., in 2000 to write a thrice-weekly sports column, I quickly learned that the city’s most famous athlete had a rocky relationship with his hometown and the local media.
Deion Sanders was born and raised in that city, once deemed America’s most segregated, where the railroad depot kept whites and Blacks separated into the 1970s. Back in town while starring at Florida State in the mid-’80s, Sanders was arrested at a mall for allegedly trying to steal. He was arrested again in Fort Myers — in 1996 when he played for the Dallas Cowboys — for trespassing and fishing on a private lake at the airport.
He generally never trusted city leaders, the cops or the media.
YouTube sensation Jake Paul vows to knock Mike Tyson out. Such bravado is typical at media events to hype a boxing match, often followed by the fighters standing inches apart and glaring before one shoves the other or throws a punch. Tyson and Paul pushed and jabbed playfully Sunday after promoting their November bout, previously scheduled for July but postponed when Tyson suffered an ulcer flareup. The former heavyweight champion says he’s fully recovered and resumed training a few weeks ago. “It’s happening,” he said at the press conference in New York. “I’m ready.”
Paul promised to give Tyson “his end in boxing” and “discipline you like a son,” calling him an “old-ass motherf—-r.”
Which brings us to the actual problem: This officially sanctioned match could be tantamount to elder abuse before it ends.
I learned that America was exceptional at an early age, way before high school. There was the United States, nation of no wrongs, followed by every other country. Despite the treatment of Native Americans and Mexicans, kidnapped Africans and late-19th-century immigrants from Ireland and Italy (before they were granted white privilege), we were No. 1! It said so right in the textbook.
As an avid sports fan during childhood, I didn’t question the concept of American exceptionalism. We clearly were the bomb in a geo-political sense. But the NBA and NFL bemused me by using “world champions” to describe their title winners. Major League Baseball, presumptuous to the max, went further by calling its championship the “World Series.”
As a young’un, I thought we were tripping. Team USA sprinter Noah Lyles still feels that way as a 27-year-old Olympic gold medalist.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered a lecture entitled “The Other America” in March 1968, outlining our nation’s schizophrenic dualism. “There are two Americas,” he proclaimed.
U.S. sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos demonstrated as much six months later, each raising a gloved fist for Black power while “The Star-Spangled Banner” played at the Mexico City Olympics. The Summer Games have been our time to make a statement since 1904 when hurdler George Coleman Poage became the first African-American to win an Olympic medal. And ain’t nothing changed.
Sports contain metaphors for life and lessons on commitment, sacrifice, winning and handling defeat. They’re taught in a universal language that’s understood by every athlete around the world. But extraterrestrial visitors would have a skewed picture of the United States if their observations were based solely on Team USA.
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