Republicans Wear Sneakers, Too

In 1990, Democratic challenger Harvey Gantt opposed Republican incumbent Jessie Helms in North Carolina's Senate race. Gantt, an early civil rights leader and Mayor of Charlotte, ultimately lost the election, thanks in part to a racially charged advertisement from the Helms campaign. The now infamous ad, “Hands,” depicted a white man crinkling up a piece of paper after losing his job to a minority, implying, of course, that unfair racial quotas were to blame. Written by Republican strategist Alex Castellanos, the ad would go down in political history as one of the more egregious (and successful) exploitations of white resentment for political gain.

When asked to endorse Gantt for the Senate seat, NBA legend and North Carolina native Michael Jordan refused, stating, “Republicans wear sneakers, too.” The implication was clear, and the message came through loudly: As an avid businessman and superstar athlete, Jordan was happy to shelve his politics—and self dignity, for that matter—in favor of merchandise sales.

Flash forward nineteen years. Last week, conservative radio personality and former ESPN NFL commentator Rush Limbaugh announced interest in buying the beleaguered St. Louis Rams. Rejecting Michael Jordan-style political ambivalence, players across the league openly expressed dissatisfaction. Mathias Kiwanuka of the New York Giants, for example, was quoted as saying:

"I mean, I don't want anything to do with a team that he has any part of. He can do whatever he wants, it is a free country. But if it goes through, I can tell you where I am not going to play […] I am not going to draw a conclusion from a person off of one comment, but when it is time after time after time and there's a consistent pattern of disrespect and just a complete misunderstanding of an entire culture that I am a part of, I can't respect him as a man."

Kiwunaka was not alone. In 2003, Limbaugh resigned as an ESPN commentator after making racially charged remarks about Donovan McNabb, suggesting that the Pro Bowl quarterback only reached stardom due to the media’s irrational desire for “a black quarterback [to] do well.” Current players, like New York Jets linebacker Bart Scott, have not forgotten these statements:

“It’s an oxymoron that he criticized Donovan McNabb. A lot of us took it as more of a racial-type thing. I can only imagine how his players would feel. I know I wouldn’t want to play for him. He’s a jerk. He’s an —. What he said (about McNabb) was inappropriate and insensitive, totally off-base. He could offer me whatever he wanted, I wouldn’t play for him. … I wouldn’t play for Rush Limbaugh. My principles are greater and I can’t be bought.”

In a league that’s between 60 and 70 per cent black, it’s more than a little insulting to imagine a man that once suggested the NFL “all too often looks like a game between the Bloods and the Crips without any weapons” could become a team owner. In fact, it’s absolutely outrageous. That a man with such overt, explicit contempt for African Americans could purchase and control an organization that profits from the labor of black athletes signals far too much historical baggage to be appropriate. Sports hold a special, unifying place in American culture, and as a result shouldn’t be a venue that rewards bigotry and divisiveness. Limbaugh’s disrespect of the league, its players, and African Americans in general are all legitimate grounds to oppose his involvement with the NFL—all opinions, I might add, that exist above and beyond any objection to his political views.

Given Limbaugh’s long history of racially charged remarks, it’s not surprising that players were offended by his announcement. But what is surprising is the public nature of their comments. Normally, team owners work to thwart political activism and diffuse dissent among their players. Bad for business, per the Jordan model of merchandise sales. But with the controversy over Limbaugh’s announcement, professional athletes may be moving toward a new model of political discourse, rejecting the Jordan template and re-embracing self dignity. The recent news that Limbaugh was officially dropped from the group bidding to buy the Rams only underscores the potential power of civically engaged professional athletes. Maybe this is the dawn of a new era—an era of renewed self-respect, moral integrity and civic engagement—in professional sports.

Tony Kornheiser of ESPN’s Pardon the Interruption made this very point earlier in the week, suggesting, “We are out of the Michael Jordan era where everyone wears sneakers, and back to the Jim Brown era of social activism.”

No complaints here.

Race and Violence in Sports

Yesterday’s post got me thinking a lot about racialized portrayals of criminality. Depictions of black criminality and drug use—be they in pop culture or on the 5 o’clock news—are typically associated with public acts of transgression. From slangin’ on the corner, to shooting each other on the street, public criminality seems like the dominant image. The public nature of these portrayals tends to depict black criminals as much more dangerous than whites, who do their dirt behind closed doors.

I immediately connected this line of thought to a passage I read in Tricia Rose’s The Hip Hop Wars, a book I reviewed last week. Here, Rose discusses racial differences in interpretations of violence in sports:

“The generalized hostility against hip hop impinges on the interpretation of other visible forms of black youth culture. For instance, [the few] black NBA players …who have committed violent or criminal acts “prove” the whole lot of them worthy of attack. In a league that has mostly black players and mostly white fans, this has become a racially charged (and racially generated) revenue problem. Such group tainting does not occur among white athletes or fans. The National Hockey League, a league that is predominantly white (in terms of both fans and players) and experiences far more incidents of game-related violence (they take timeouts to brawl!) is rarely described as problematically violent.”

So, fair point: We don’t problematize hockey the same way we problematize basketball. Also fair: basketball players are overwhelmingly African-American, and hockey players are mostly white and European. This is a pretty common argument, and Rose is certainly not the first to say it. Still, I’m not so sure race is the only answer to this disparity.

Yes, there are “timeouts to brawl” in the NHL. But here’s the thing: Brawling is woven into the codes, regulations, and rules of the game. The fact that there are “timeouts to brawl” illustrates that fighting is a controlled and regulated part of the game. Players are given their time to fight it out, and then the referees step in and send them to he penalty box. All of this happens in an enclosed rink, regulated by the rules of the game, while the players wear heavy padding.

NBA fights are strikingly different. From Rudy Tomjonavich getting laid out in 1977 Rockets-Lakers game, to Jeff Van Gundy being dragged across the court as he held onto Alonzo Mourning’s leg in 1998, to 2004’s infamous Pistons-Pacers brawl, NBA fights are far from regulated. I honestly cannot think of a comparable NHL moment that is anything like Ron Artest leaping from the court into the stands after a fan threw a beer at him. Artest sparked a massive fight that breached the boundaries of the court. Fans were getting decked by athletes, and five players were ultimately charged with assault.

Not all violence is created equal, especially when one form (the NHL) carries with it institutional backing and regulation. There’s been a significant amount of suspensions and technicals during the NBA playoffs this year, so I wouldn’t be surprised if these conversations pop up some more. But race is only part of the answer here, albeit a central part. See, race interacts with issues of public space, violence, and social control to reinforce existing stereotypes.

We don’t cut hockey more slack because it’s a “white sport.” No, we fail to problematize violence in hockey because it’s white and regulated and controlled and in a semi-public, but enclosed space. We freak out about NBA violence because it’s black and unregulated and uncontrolled and crosses from the court and into the stands.

It’s not that race is insignificant; it’s that public space and social control are racialized. The problem with race in America is that it’s no longer just race, but rather a collusion of race and other seemingly race-neutral aspects of everyday life. So yeah, there’s a certain degree of racial discrimination in the way NBA fights are treated as compared to NHL fights. But that’s in large part due to the racialized way in which we view public violence, as compared to private, controlled and regulated violence.

As one wise academic astutely notes, it’s more than just race. And that’s precisely the problem.

Sports Stadiums and Urban Revitalization

Two coinciding events have put the city of Detroit, at least temporarily, back in the national spotlight: debates over the auto industry bailout and Michigan State University’s ascent to the Men’s College Basketball Championship Game, held at Detroit’s Ford Field. In the above clip from ESPN, a few former Michigan sports stars reflect on changes in the city and the impact of sports on civic pride.

The clip points to a very interesting relationship between sports and the economic vitality of a depressed city. There was some talk in the week leading up to the National Championship game about what an MSU win would mean for the spirit of Detroit, a city boasting a 12% unemployment rate leading up to the game. The implicit assumption is that the magical power of sports can uplift a city, inspiring poor urban dwellers to pick themselves up by their bootstraps as they find redemption, solace, and joy in their team’s victory.

This sports euphoria certainly has some merit. The scene at Shea Stadium in New York after 9/11 was an important moment that inspired a nation. More generally, the common love for a home team can cross racial, ethnic and class lines at precisely the times of greatest racial, ethnic, and class strife. However, the business of sports doesn’t exactly help the economic vitality of urban centers. In the clip, Detroit mayoral candidate and former Detroit Pistons star Dave Bing makes the astute observation that people rarely visit Detroit unless it’s for a sporting event. Such is the case for many cities facing dramatic economic decline--take Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Baltimore as just a few examples. The presence of a sports stadium does little to bring in sustained resources to these cities. Their spatial proximity to highways makes parking manageable and efficient, but it also makes fans’ stays brief. The fact that it’s easy to get to Comerica Park in Detroit also makes it easy to leave when the game’s over.

Some sports arenas, like The Palace at Auburn Hills where the Detroit Pistons play, aren’t even in the cities they represent. What about when a new corporate sponsor takes over the rights to house a sports team, what happens to the old stadium? We don’t even need to leave our example of Detroit to answer that question. When I was an undergraduate at the University of Michigan, two groups of urban planners spoke to my Urban and Community Studies course. They were discussing the fate of Detroit's Old Tiger Stadium, the now vacant stadium that became obsolete after the construction of Comerica Park. The first group of urban planners proposed a center for cultural activities and youth baseball leagues, while the second group wanted to use the space for high-end boutiques and shops. Each made a solid case for how the vacant sports stadium could aid in urban revitalization efforts. In the end, neither proposal fully came to fruition, as the city decided instead to demolish the entire site.

As much as one can argue that sports can lift the spirit of an economically depressed city, so too is their a strong argument that sports stadiums only add to the marginalization of America’s most needy cities.