Rashard Mendenhall Offers Contrast to the Apathetic Black Athlete

Rashard Mendenhall Offers Contrast to the Apathetic Black Athlete

by Mark Anthony Neal | The Atlanta Post

Like many Americans, professional football player Rashard Mendenhall was moved by the announcement that Osama bin Laden had been killed by US military personnel.  Yet what moved Mendenhall to speak out in the hours after the announcement was his disgust with the celebratory antics of folk who gathered across from the White House and at Ground Zero in New York City.   On his Twitter feed Mendenhall wrote “What kind of person celebrates death? It’s amazing how people can HATE a man they have never even heard speak. We’ve only heard one side…”  Mendenhall, who plays for the Pittsburgh Steelers, also expressed some concern that many who were celebrating in the streets didn’t really know the full story.

Reaction to Mendenhall’s comments was swift, most notably by Steelers team president Art Rooney II, who quickly distanced the team from Mendenhall’s comments. “The entire Steelers organization is very proud of the job our military personnel have done and we can only hope this leads to our troops coming home soon,” he announced. And just recently, Mendenhall was dropped as a spokesman for the sports apparel company Champion.

On Sports talk radio—never a bastion of thoughtful commentary—the reactions were to be expected: athletes should keep their opinions about anything other than the game, to themselves.  As Thabiti Lewis observes in his book Ballers of the New School: Race and Sports in America, sports are intended to “divert us from conversations of political, economic, or social criticisms and analysis, while cultivating jingoists—intense patriots.” Yet, underlying even those nominal responses is the belief that Black athletes, in particular, should shut-up and, to quote rapper and activist Jasiri X, “just run the ball boy.”

Read the Full Essay @ The Atlanta Post

Shut up and Play, or Just Shut Up: Lessons from the Panic over Rashard Mendenhall's Tweets

 

Shut up and Play, or Just Shut up:

Lessons from the Panic over Rashard Mendenhall's Tweets

by David J. Leonard and C. Richard King | Special to NewBlackMan

It has become almost cliché to condemn and demonize contemporary black athletes for their purported lack of political activity.  Celebrating the courageous stances of athletes like Muhammad Ali, John Carlos, and Curt Flood, it is commonplace to see contemporary praise alongside of the demonization of today’s ballers.  Here are but a few examples of the ways in which the modern athlete, defined and represented through the black athlete, are ridicule for political cowardice and apathy. 

Jaymes Powell Jr., in “Severed from the Struggle,” argues that, “many athletes of African-American descent haven’t embraced activism the way previous generations did.  They say there are no modern-day counterparts to Jim Brown, Tommy [sic] Smith, Arthur Ashe, and former N.C. A & T quarterback Jesse Jackson, athletes who took leading roles in the battle for civil rights” (2007).  Similarly, Greg Mathis in “Where is Today’s Muhammad Ali?” concludes that sports no longer generates activism, “fall[ing] victim to the slave mentality of ‘take the money and shut up.”  He notes further, “From athletic shoes to sports drinks today’s major athletes can and do hawk everything under the sun. 

Unfortunately, when it comes to political and social issues, these celebrities are uncharacteristically silent.  It was not always that way” (2004).   Greg Jayne agrees, arguing that today’s athletes, unlike Smith and Carlos, Curt Flood, or Ali, have turned their backs on the tradition of athletes taking a stand.  “They’re wealthy, they’re prominent and they’re alternatively revered and reviled for their uneasy position as role models.  Athletes are among the most visible members of society.  Yet along with the riches and the fame and the status as style-makers, there is a wealth of silence” (2003).  Scoop Jackson in an effort to highlight the efforts Etan Thomas to speak truth to power, put it this way:

We live in the era of the soundless athlete. An era in which the highest-profile figures in sports not only say nothing about the condition of the sociopolitical landscape their fan base resides in, but worse -- they have nothing to say. They'll speak of love and hate in Nike commercials, they'll save women falling from buildings in Adidas spots. They'll dunk cantaloupes in carts in grocery store isles, they'll chase Afro'd dolls through parties trying to get a Sprite. They'll put tats on their bodies proclaiming love for loved ones and those they've lost; they'll go on “Oprah” or “Jay Leno” and shed tears about their past and how they were lost; they'll do one-on-ones with chosen sportscasters to promote their CDs; they'll form opinions about dress codes. Saying nothing.

And, bottom line? Ain't none of them wrong. That's what they are supposed to do. Their silence has emancipated them. Taken them places past their American dreams. Made them our heroes. Some our leaders. To them we look for answers; answers we find in their silence. We applaud their performances, make sure our kids always choose them on "NBA Ballers”; Live '06 them, Xbox them, DS them, PSP them. All the while accepting their silence (2006).

While many commentators see the silence as organic, as a reflection of the dysfunction of today’s (black) athletes, as their refusal to accept the baton of their forbearers, and even the changing economics of sports, they, like so much in the media, ignore the mechanism that discipline and punish (black) athletes for speaking up, for challenging the status quo.  As Scoop Jackson notes, “And, bottom line? Ain't none of them wrong. That's what they are supposed to do.”  Better said, it is what is required of them: “Shut up and play”! 

To grasp the power of this equation, we need look no further than the current frenzy and the denunciation surrounding Pittsburgh Steelers running back Rashard Mendenhall, who in the wake of the announced killing of Osama Bin Laden and national celebrations, took to his twitter page, where he offered the following:

What kind of person celebrates death? It's amazing how people can HATE a man they have never even heard speak. We've only heard one side...

@dkeller23 We'll never know what really happened. I just have a hard time believing a plane could take a skyscraper down demolition style [USA Today reports that this has been subsequently removed]

I believe in God. I believe we're ALL his children. And I believe HE is the ONE and ONLY judge.

Those who judge others, will also be judged themselves.

For those of you who said you want to see Bin Laden burn in hell and piss on his ashes, I ask how would God feel about your heart?

There is not an ignorant bone in my body. I just encourage you to #think

Not surprisingly his remarks have triggered an avalanche of criticism.  Art Rooney II, the Steelers’ owner, publicly condemned his comments, seemingly questioning his patriotism, going as far to link his comments to support for the troops.  "I have not spoken with Rashard so it is hard to explain or even comprehend what he meant with his recent Twitter comments. The entire Steelers' organization is very proud of the job our military personnel have done and we can only hope this leads to our troops coming home soon."  Others followed suit focusing on the one conspiracy tweet to depict him as a crazy, ignorant, and otherwise out-of-step with reality.  Described as a “meltdown,” “Football's Newest Villain,” as someone whose “mouth and tweets are simply disrespectful,” as someone who “sounds ridiculous (again),” as irrational and not presently on earth, as sympathetic to Bin Laden,  as a defender of Bin Laden and another “dumb jock.”  Much of the discourse focused on his questions that fit with those conspiracy theorists and not on many other tweets about the meaning of and celebration of the assassination.

Rick Chandler seemed to capture the sentiment and animosity best with his column:

Last night I had a very vivid dream. An elite team of Navy SEALs flew two Blackhawk helicopters into Rashard Mendenhall’s residence. After encountering token resistance from the dog (neutralized by Snausages), the elite special forces team located the Steelers running back in an upstairs bedroom, where he was in the process of tweeting a friend (not a euphemism). The SEALs confiscated his cell phone — and all others in the house — and then departed as quickly as they had arrived.  So, hopefully, there will be no further retarded tweets such as this.

On Foxnews.com, comments consistently questioned his intelligence, calling him a “moron,” an “idiot,” “a clown” and “garbage” who couldn’t have gone to college.  One poster made clear the power of white racial framing, noting, “Gee, and I thought the NFL only harbored rapists, murderers, and dog killers.”   Many who posted on the site called for his release and/or a boycott of the Steelers.  Similarly, on ESPN.com (and on Huffington Post there was more support for Mendenhall especially regarding the condemnation of celebrations of death) which as of Tuesday had elicited over 8,000 comments, he was referred as a “moron,” a “terrorist,” “an idiot,” and someone who just needs “to shut up.”

Several commentators also linked his tweets to his past comments about the NFL and slavery.  Responding to comments made by the Vikings’ Adrian Peterson, Mendenhall stated, “Anyone with knowledge of the slave trade and the NFL could say that these two parallel each other."  In posts and in comments, his remarks about 9/11 and the killing of Bin Laden are connected to his comments about the NFL not only in an effort to demonize him as a radical but to reduce him to yet another ungrateful black athlete who spits on his profession and country.  Columnist Gene Collier epitomizes this rendering of Mendenhall as he openly mocked him and his intelligence in a recent diatribe, lambasting the running back for his lack of understanding of sport management, structural engineering, and history.

Last I checked, no one was dodging the NFL draft by fleeing to Canada. No one is forced to play football, Rashard. This must have played well in Dublin, where the United States ambassador to Ireland is only the man after which the Rooney Rule is named, only the first-born son of The Chief, one of the first NFL owners to have African-Americans on his roster.

In short, Collier and seemingly countless others find Mendenhall to be ignorant and ungrateful, laughable for his lack of common sense and easily dismissed for not knowing his place. As Collier quipped, "It's better to remain silent and thought a fool than to tweet and remove all doubt."  In other words, shut up and play; don’t trouble us with your thoughts, especially when they run counter to conventional wisdom, challenge the white racial frame, and upset management and the fan base.  As Collier concludes, refiguring the star athlete as a terrorist, “As an American, Mendenhall has rights. Because it's a great and confounding country, he has a right to his mouth just as he has a right to an AK-47. How 'bout don't go shootin' 'em off.”

Mendenhall is not alone in feeling the public wrath’s for not only being politically vocal but for speaking out in away that challenges dominant assumptions and ideologies.  Carlos Delgado, Toni Smith, Josh Howard, Steve Nash, and Etan Thomas (see Dave Zirin for more discussion), among others, have also been targeted for their outspoken challenges to imperialism, war, and systemic violence.  It is not a politically active athlete that is undesirable, but one who challenges the conventional wisdom, especially when said athlete is a young African American.  

Dave Zirin, in “Shut Up and Play? Patriotism, Jock Culture and the Limits of Free Speech,” reminds readers about the historic blindness in today’s celebration of activist-athlete of year’s past: If you look historically at athletes who today are admired for their courageous honesty—people like Muhammad Ali, Billie Jean King, Jim Brown, and Bill Russell—they were all told by the sports columnists of their day that they should button their lips and just play.”

This conclusion raises a troubling question: What exactly does the nostalgia for political athletes of the past mean today? Sadly, it may mean that those selected for celebration fall on the right side of history, presumably with “us.”  Their once objectionable observations now resonate with common sense assessments of race, justice, and society. In celebrating them exclusively, while remain silent about, or worse attacking, objectionable expressions by athletes today, encourages both a confirmation of the status quo and a demonization of those few who do speak up.  More broadly, the panic around Mendenhall’s tweets further underscores the deep entanglements of sporting spectacles and national narratives. 

Few complaints were heard when the NFL (to take but one example) amplified its inculcation of patriotism following 9/11.  In fact, franchises profited; fans felt good; and the war on terror thrived unquestioned. In contrast, the passing comments of one player questioning how the public responded to the killing of Osama bin Laden and accepted accounts of the events he set in motion sparks a firestorm of controversy.  In such a context, one cannot hope for sport to liberate, inspire, or transform.  Indeed, the Mendenhall affair may confirm Noam Chomsky’s observation about sport: “it occupies the populations, and it keeps them from trying to get involved with things that really matter” (2002, 99-100).  By extension, nostalgic celebrations paired with contemporary demonization further turns our attention away from what matters in sport and society.

***

C. Richard King is the Chair of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University at Pullman and the author/editor of several books, including Team Spirits: The Native American Mascot Controversy and Postcolonial America.

David J. Leonard is an associate professor in the Department of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University at Pullman. His next book (SUNY Press) is on the NBA after the November 2004 brawl during a Pacers-Pistons game at the The Palace of Auburn Hills He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums.

Did Albert Haynesworth Really Mean Slave?

Did Albert Haynesworth Really Mean Slave?
by Thabiti Lewis

Recently a media feeding frenzy ensued when Washington Redskins defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth uttered the statement, “Just because somebody pays you money don’t mean they’ll make you do whatever they want…I’m not for sale. Yeah, I signed the contract and got paid a lot of money [$21 million this year], but that don’t mean I’m for sale or a slave or whatever.”

Part of the shock, or better yet outrage, seemed to be focused on the very thought that a black man making so much money would compare playing in a defensive scheme he despises to the master-slave relationship at the heart of the American Black-white divide. According to Haynesworth his bone of contention was part of his contract negotiations with the Redskins.

Of course he is not the first contemporary athlete to utter the slave comparison. Former NBA great Larry Johnson once referred to some of his New York Knicks teammates as “rebel slaves” which generated similar outrage. William Rhoden’s wonderful book Forty Million Dollar Slaves takes on the historic plantation mentality of American sport culture and contemporary athletes. And my own book, Ballers of The New School, examines the mentality of contemporary post-civil rights, hip-hop generation athletes, bold enough to make such utterances.

To be fair to Haynesworth who is black, the history and legacy of the enslavement of African persons in the New World, and testifying against it or vestiges of it, will forever be part of the psyche of black Americans. Enslavement in America was harsh, bitter, and cruel as recounted in endless slave narratives. These narratives testified against captors and bore witness to the desire of every black person to be free. Haynesworth’s recent tirade or testimony (depending on your point of view) underscores the feelings that most contemporary athletes are either unwilling to or incapable of articulating.

While Haynesworth certainly does not endure the same type of cruel bondage, his rebellion is against those in power of a plantation or system (dominated primarily by white men) that controls black men—even if they pay them. It is a system capable of making them “do whatever they want” whenever they want. Haynesworth, like the slave narratives, which demonstrated the problematic value of plantation culture, is perhaps addressing the problematic white-black labor conditions in contemporary sports culture that is driven by a modicum of the past master-slave ideology.

Rhoden says in his book “sports might be a plantation of sorts.” Haynesworth seems to concur. And, no amount of money will hush black folk with knowledge of this legacy, because America’s foundation is buried in the fields of slave plantations.

Ironically, the foundation of contemporary high profile sports like football and basketball are the descendants of former slaves. Even the structure of contemporary sports teams traces the power dynamics of plantations. Nearly all the people who exercise power over players are white— the owners, head coaches, commissioners, etc.

The outrage directed at Haynesworth for making his “slave” comment confirms the unspoken notion that because he is Black, he is treated as a descendants of former slaves. Critics say Haynesworth should be grateful—more grateful than his white peers—for the money he makes.

But if Haynesworth is getting paid so much and the dynamics are so different, why make the comparison?

Haynesworth is bothered that despite his immense wealth he does not control the terms of his liberation—the problem slaves faced without the benefit of wealth. Further, in the contemporary sports world not only are white men (like his coach and team owner) in power, but they have defined the terms of the liberation for black men. Haynesworth’s analogy is perhaps his way of saying that while his services may be for sale, his pride and self-respect are not. Despite the money, prestige, and lifestyle, he is not blind to the master-slave power dynamic in contemporary sport culture.

What underscores the Haynesworth saga is how it compares to that of Minnesota Vikings’ Brett Favre who is white. Haynesworth dislikes the Redskins 3-4 defensive scheme, preferring to play tackle instead of nose guard. He also skipped the Redskins voluntary off-season conditioning program. The media maligned him for this, suggesting he was lazy. Brett Favre routinely skips training camp until the last two weeks of camp. He also chose to play for the Vikings because they use an offense he likes.

Yet, the media response to his antics is the antithesis of the response to Haynesworth. Haynesworth is called “ridiculous,” “an idiot” and worse for making his comments. Meanwhile Favre is worshipped for holding teams hostage (deciding if he will play or retire) each year until two weeks before the season begins. In fact, he was given a raise this season. (He now makes $16 million!)

Race is an undeniable variable in the different treatment of these men. The black one is told he should be grateful, shut up and do what he is told. The other is afforded the latitude to waffle about playing, and is offered a raise for doing so.

My point here is not that Haynesworth is literally a slave, but that because he’s Black he’s treated like one. Nor is it that whites are literally masters. The point is that Haynesworth seems to be aware the racial dynamics at play and rejects them. Our national understanding of race could make leaps and bounds, if the public considered these dynamics alongside Haynesworth words, “I’m not for sale or a slave or whatever.”

Originally Published by NewsOne.com

***

Thabiti Lewis is the author of Ballers of the New School: Race and Sports in America (Third World Press, 2010). He teaches English and American Studies at Washington State University Vancouver.

Our Costly Mad Sports Love

special to NewBlackMan

Our Costly Mad Sports Love
by Stephane Dunn

Recently, a friend who was working in an athletic department at a big time sports school discovered just how much we love the money and thrill that comes with winning college sports programs. He was uncomfortable with the ease in which coaches and athletes expected and demanded that academic responsibilities be lightened, excused, and manipulated in the pursuit of building and maintaining strong sports programs. That such business is common at too many schools despite NCAA rules and supervision makes the very ordering of the term ‘Student athlete’ something of a joke.

The current revelation about the fraudulent allegations surrounding NBA Rookie of the Year Derrick Rose and the Memphis basketball program dramatically highlights some disturbing intertwining problems, including the NBA’s laughable one year of college requirement before draft eligibility and the still overall unimpressive graduation rates of black male athletes in Division I basketball programs. But this latest and still too little discussed Memphis scandal is especially symptomatic of how we’ve increasingly devalued education in favor of our mad sports love. For black male athletes aspiring to be the next Rose or favored NFL draft pick, this has far deeper ramifications as it feeds into a cultural tragedy that’s garnered more mouth speak than radical change in young athletes’ and fans’ consciousness: The devaluation of education as both a means to a future and ever more distant in our esteem –the value of literacy and the development of the mind.

There is a lot of blame to go around. Parents, students, coaches and recruiters, the NCAA, big time sports apparel companies, and the problematic bridge between college basketball and the NBA are particularly at fault in the Rose fiasco and the many instances of grade inflation and cheating at numerous schools over the years. Unfortunately, the exploitation of young black athletes is difficult to stem; they want to be the next Lebron James and parents want the same. The lure of reaping great financial rewards earlier rather than later is certainly understandable especially to the many athletes coming from socially and economically disadvantaged backgrounds. These young men can’t wait to buy Mama a house and purchase that first expensive dream car. For some, sports, like music, remains one of the most seductive channels for moving up in the world, out of poverty, and/or quite literally the ghetto.

Too many of these young black men never get a chance to think of formal education as a serious roadmap into a bright future. Athletes often get ‘special’ treatment; problems with literacy are overlooked, course failures becomes passes, and as we see with Rose, any potential barrier to the real goal –reaching the next level beyond high school and college- like an SAT test or a grade can be sidestepped if enough school administrators and coaches as well as sports leagues are willing to manipulate or at least look the other way to make it happen. The rise of AAU clubs has helped too. They might be a venue for developing athletic skills but they are part of an exploitative system in which young athletes become chess pieces in a competitive, lucrative tug of war. The development of these athletes’ basic skills and regard for their education is a casualty of the bigger focus on discovering and owning a piece of the next hot prospect. Instead, college athletes’ main job is sports; even gaining expertise in a non-athletic profession is secondary despite the so-called academic standard policies by schools and the NCAA.

This is not to suggest that every kid is or should be bound for college but it is sad that the percentage of black men in college (about 28% of the African American population ages 18-24) is not even higher while a still too large percentage (just over 10% of that age group according to a 2005 Census Bureau report) goes to prison. Despite an overall increase in recent years, a check of graduation rates for African American male athletes at some highly seeded basketball schools will reveal shameful numbers. Do we care if a million potential Roses can read and write well or at all or if they are cheated of many kinds of valuable learning or another potential gateway to a successful career? Do we care that while there are thousands of young black men who grow up dreaming of athletic fame and fortune, only a tiny percentage will actually end up being drafted or becoming highly paid NFL and NBA stars?

Certainly, this is not era in which we connect combined academic and athletic ambition and dedication to black athletes or celebrate it; this is not a Paul Robeson generation of student-athletes. Neither the mainstream sports media nor popular black media outlets – talk radio shows included spend a lot of time interrogating the implications and costs of the systemic exploitation of young athletes. The glamour of sports fame and the thrill of watching competition and the display of athletic prowess overshadow some nasty realities. Thus, the attention on black athletes who decide to stay in school and ‘risk’ many would argue, breaking a leg before being drafted and outstanding student athletes like Florida State football player and Rhodes scholar Myron Rolle, do not become hot topics of discussion.

There will continue to be NCAA investigations and sports programs suspensions and a few, like the current scandal, will get some momentary media attention but it’s really too little. A far greater number of violations will go undiscovered and unchecked. Meanwhile, a number of known and many more anonymous ‘student’ athletes will continue to gratefully and in some cases arrogantly accept the favors that come with being an athlete in high school and college, too many parents with visions of cheering famous sons will blissfully ignore serious academic deficiencies and performances or neglect to ask or interrogate academic development, the sports league clubs and high school and college recruiters and coaches at major sports schools and smaller ones will go on either directly or indirectly supporting the plethora of ‘tutors’ and teachers and test takers who ‘help’ athletes remain academically eligible, sport apparel companies will be on the hunt for tomorrow’s hottest marketing commodity, and the NBA will continue to feign concern about very young athletes’ readiness for the league with a policy that does little to either value education or develop very young athletes’ maturity. And the disregard of academic integrity and education will continue to be bolstered by our costly mad sports love.

***

Stephane Dunn, Ph.D, MFA, is currently an Assistant Professor in the English Department at Morehouse College. She has also taught at Ohio State University. A scholarly and creative writer, she specializes in film, popular culture, literature and African American studies. She is the author of articles and commentaries and the book, Baad Bitches & Sassy Supermamas: Black Power Action Films (University of Illinois Press 2008).

Too Much Time on Their Hands: The Vick Generation

Too Much Time on Their Hands
by Mark Anthony Neal

Michael Vick stands in judgment, and it goes without saying that a generation of young black male athletes also stand in judgment. More than Allen Iverson, Kobe Bryant and Pacman “sometimes you need to just call a dangerous psychopath a ‘dangerous’ psychopath” Jones, Michael Vick has now become the stand-in for all that ails professional sports. And it’s not fair, but Michael Vick and his generational cohorts should know better.

The current crop of black male athletes are more visible and better compensated than every generation of black athletes that came before them. And for some of these young athletes, they believe they are beyond reproach because of it, particularly if said criticism comes from the generation of black athletes who toiled on fields, courts and tracks without the glamour and prestige that these young athletes now take for granted. I’m always reminded of Vince Coleman, a former major league baseball player who, months after signing a free-agent contract with the New York Mets in 1991, claimed that he didn’t know who Curt Flood was. It was Flood who, 20 years earlier, challenged the reserve clause in baseball, which essentially made baseball players little more than salaried chattel. Flood was the reason why Coleman and countless others can become free agents and sell their talents to the highest bidder.

As we witness the wealthiest generation of professional athletes ever, increasingly the professionalization process is beginning in childhood, as kids as young as seven and eight years of age are already being prepared for lives in professional sports. It is in this context that many of these athletes, particularly if they are black males, are denied the fullest range of social and cultural experience. The by-product is a generation of young rich athletes who, when they are not toiling for the NBA or NFL, are sitting at home playing video games 10 hours a day, before they hit the club. Lots of money and too much time on their hands and it explains, in part, why figures like Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan might gamble away millions of dollars, why former NBA star Jayson Williams (the black one) might be sitting in his bedroom playing with guns, or why an athlete might become interested in betting on dog fights. The irony is that given their largely unprecedented wealth, this is a generation of athletes who could truly afford to experience the world in ways that their predecessors could only imagine.

Read the full essay at CRITICAL NOIR @ Vibe.com