Stories about Roethlisberger over the past couple weeks have generally fallen into two categories:  accounts of the remarkable story of redemption, from pariah to champion, and harsh criticism of the notion that throwing a football well could ever redeem behavior like Roethlisberger’s.  (Not surprisingly, the Onion ends up with the best take.)

This first line of stories generally seem to be an awkward attempt by sportswriters  to not let off the field nastiness spoil all the fun.  Stripped of his personal baggage, Roethlisberger is a fun athlete to analyze, a unique quarterback with a style that looks ugly but often ends up victorious.  But putting his off the field behavior back into the equation not only complicates the analysis of Roethlisberger the player and Sunday’s game, it exposes the ridiculousness of the multi-billion dollar enterprise of professional sports, the foolishness of devoting so much time, energy, and intelligence into glorifying and analyzing men who are no more than, and far too often seem less than, human.  The “wins doesn’t equal redemption” conclusion is painfully obvious, and anything Roethlisberger does on the field pales in comparison to what he likely did off the field.  But football writers want to write about football, and millions of people want to read about football, and writing about football requires writing about Ben Roethlisberger the football player (and dozens of other people with less than savory histories).  And so the Roethlisberger redemption stories come off as an awkward attempt by sportswriters to justify their profession, to convince themselves and the rest of us that it’s OK to care about what Roethlisberger does on Sunday.

I empathize with sportswriters grappling to rationalize their chosen profession because I’ve gone through a similar process this season as a Steeler fan.  When the Roethlisberger news broke, I wished the Steelers would trade him.  I actually thought it might happen, having convinced myself that the Steelers really are different from other teams, really do hold themselves to a higher standard, really do value character and integrity over money, and care about winning but winning the right way.  Of course, it didn’t happen, and I swore off the Steelers and professional football.

And I made it through about three weeks of boycotting the Steelers.  I’ve come up with quite a few rationalizations:  that the roster is still full of likeable players like Hines Ward and Troy Polamalu and coaches like Mike Tomlin and Dick LeBeau, that I’m not going to let one person drive me away from the team that means so much to my hometown, the team that my grandparents rooted and root for, the team my parents, and many others, drove to the airport to greet after their first Super Bowl win.  The team that inspired me to write the syrupy e-mail at the end of this column.  I’ve always been more of a baseball and basketball fan than a football fan, more of a Pirate fan than a Steeler fan.  But there’s nothing sports-related that I’ve experienced like being in Western Pennsylvania during the first Steeler Super Bowl run of my lifetime.  For three solid weeks, most of my family and just about everyone I’d grown up with was happy. I share these even though I don’t expect anyone not from Pittsburgh to be convinced (I’m still not fully convinced myself).

And so the whole experience has me reflecting on how weird being a sports fan is.  I’m not sure how I’ve ended up in a place where I can cheer Roethlisberger’s on-field success while saying that I “hate” Tom Brady, who for all I know is a perfectly decent human being.  My “hatred” for Brady (or the Ravens, or the Braves, or the University of North Carolina, etc.) has an element of hyperbole, but in a sense is very real.  I wish him no ill will off the field, but watching him succeed on the field causes a very real negative reaction and watching him fail causes a very real positive reaction.

Analogies can be made to other forms of art or entertainment.  I feel slightly better about cheering for the Steelers knowing that millions of people continue to watch Two and Half Men every week.  But the connection between sports fans and athletes has a unique quality to it.  Other than live performances — which, on any given night, generally don’t carry the win or lose significance that a sporting event have — we don’t share the experience of other entertainers or artists along with them.  Whatever emotional impact a novel, or a song, or a movie may have on us, it reaches us a finished product, and there’s a distance between how we experience it and how the people that made it experienced it.  But with athletes, we join their highs and lows in real time.  When Roethlisberger completed his Super Bowl winning pass to Santonio Holmes two years ago, I was jumping up and down, pumping my fist right along with him.  And I’ll probably be doing the same thing on Sunday, if the Steelers are so fortunate, though this time with the recognition that sports fanaticism is as much a sickness as a point of pride.

-AR

-AR

First, some background.  Two weeks ago, Washington Redskins Coach Mike Shanahan benched (black) starting quarterback Donovan McNabb during the final two minutes of a failed comeback attempt against the Detroit Lions, claiming (white) back-up Rex Grossman had a better knowledge of the team’s two-minute offense.  As discussion grew about the surprising move, Shanahan leaked to the press that McNabb was struggling to learn the team’s playbook in general and gave the alternate explanation that he was worried about McNabb’s “cardiovascular fitness.” The Washington Post’s John Feinstein said that there was “racial coding” in Shanahan essentially calling McNabb fat and stupid, and called for Shanahan to be fired.

Reilly finds Feinstein invocation of race to be beyond the pale.  In his column, Reilly throws up what are probably the two biggest and most commonly employed barriers to productive conversations on race.

Barrier Number 1:  “Racism?  That’s sooooooo 1963.”

In response to Feinstein’s suggestion that racial coding might be involved in the decision to bench McNabb, Reilly writes, “Are we really going there? In 2010?”**  Because, you know, racial prejudice ended when we passed the Civil Rights Act.  Or when Tony Dungy won a Super Bowl.  Or when Obama was elected.  But definitely at some point before now, so we should just stop talking about it.

What’s so obnoxious about Reilly’s article is not just that he wants to believe that racial prejudice no longer exists, but that he seems unwilling to acknowledge that it ever existed at all.  Up until very recently, there were almost no black quarterbacks in the NFL.  The major reason for this is the type of prejudiced beliefs about African Americans that Feinstein identifies: blacks were thought to lack the intelligence and leadership ability required to be a successful quarterback.  This was the conventional wisdom of the NFL Mike Shannahan came up in and the men from whom he learned the game.  Amazingly, Reilly doesn’t acknowledge this history at all, and acts as though Feinstein’s accusations come completely out of the blue.

Barrier Number 2:  “How dare you call me a racist!”

Reilly devotes a large portion of the column to showing that Mike Shanahan is not, in fact, a racist.

Does Feinstein know that Shanahan was the guy who gave Rick Smith his first job in an NFL personnel department? Smith went on to become the league’s first black GM, at Houston.

Does Feinstein remember how Shanahan campaigned to help his wide receivers coach, Karl Dorrell, become the first black head coach in UCLA’s history? And that he let him leave in the middle of the Broncos’ season to do it?

Does Feinstein know what Shanahan did after receiving the call telling him that Broncos cornerback Darrent Williams had been killed in a drive-by shooting? He wept. On the phone.

Wasn’t it Shanahan who wanted McNabb in the first place? Convinced Dan Snyder to trade for him? Wasn’t McNabb black then? Or was there something wrong with the racial coding on Shanahan’s flat-screen?

But question isn’t “Is Mike Shanahan a racist?”, but rather, “Did negative stereotypes about African Americans play a role in the decision to bench McNabb?”  Maybe the most counterproductive feature of our current discourse on race is the need to destroy any nuance and fit things neatly into boxes of “racist” or “not racist.”

Extensive research shows that almost  all of us make certain assumptions about other based on race (gender and sexuality and myriad other factors).  What really separates the “racists” from the “non-racists” is not whether these assumptions are made, but the degree to which we question these assumptions before expressing and acting on them.  Which is why it’s so counterproductive that our first reaction whenever someone else questions whether racial prejudice might have influenced a decision is to shut down debate (How dare you call me a racist!) rather than engage in discussion and question our attitudes.

Reilly breaks out a series straw men to try to make Feinstein’s argument seem ridiculous.

What is Feinstein saying? That’s it’s not possible Grossman knew the two-minute offense better? That it’s not possible for a white guy to be better at something than a black guy? That’s it’s not possible for a black guy to be out of shape? If that’s the logic, what follows is: Black people are never inept. Apparently, according to Feinstein, white people have cornered the market on it. And if you think a black person is inept occasionally — like McNabb — go stand in the racist line.

Of course that’s not what Feistein is suggesting.  And nothing I’ve said means that Feinstein is necessarily right in his assessment.  But given the sorry history of the NFL and black quarterbacks it’s a legitimate point to raise, and demonizing and ridiculing Feinstein for daring to bring up race just shuts down an important line of inquiry.  On a broader level, the only way we can start moving towards racial justice is to be willing to at least discuss the ways in which our long sad history on race continues to infect our thoughts and actions.

-AR

*Previously, my problem with Reilly was that he tends to take very strident positions on utterly non-controversial topics.  The little league coach is wrong to exploit that the other team has a cancer patient?  Thanks for the insight, Rick!  Turns out he’s even worse when he takes on controversial topics.

**  This deserves longer discussion on its own, but I have to at least note the absurdity of someone seeming baffled that we still have to deal with questions of racism while writing a column about the Washington Redskins

-AR

Update:  The HBO police have taken the video off the web, but here’s the text version.

What does this have to do with anything of actual importance? I feel like the past months of following the health care debate have been a condensed version of my experience as a Pirates fan. Every time a new package or compromise or new procedural avenue is announced, I convince myself that it’s the one that’s going to get the bill through. And every time, thus far, I’ve been disappointed. So with the White House house announcing that “this is the week!” and the House and Senate having a tentative agreement on how to get the bill through, my reaction is both to celebrate “here we go!” and to lament “here we go again. . .”

In one way, the Democrats inability to pass a health care bill is a lot sadder than the Pirates inability to put together a winning season. (OK, in two ways: whereas passing a health care bill involves giving millions of people access to medical care, the Pirates having a winning season involves winning some baseball games.) While the Pirates’ losing records are consistent with the lack of talent, poor management, and low payrolls they’ve had over the past two decades, the Democrats have failed to pass a health care bill despite large majorities in both houses of Congress. Despite the fact that Republicans have used every procedural tool at their disposal to block legislation since they’ve been in the minority, and despite the fact that Republicans used every tool they could to pass legislation when they were in the majority, Democrats have, to this point, been unwilling to push the limits of the rules so that a simple majority vote could pass the bill. So while there’s a lot to be encouraged by in Harry Reid’s recent “get tough” letter to Mitch McConnell, it also has a “what took you so long?!?” quality.

McConnell, for his part, calls Democratic efforts to pass the bill by majority vote “a raw exercise of legislative power.” I’m not sure exactly what work the word “raw” does in that sentence, but passing a piece of legislation is no doubt an exercise of legislative power. Which is, you know, kind of an appropriate thing for the legislative branch to do.

-AR

A quality public apology requires only two parts.  1)  Admit what you said/did was wrong; and 2) say you’re sorry.  And if you want to throw in some unhinged stream of conscience stuff on your love of the Appalachian Trail, so much the better.

Sadly, apologizers seem to almost always feel the need to go one step further, offering hollow excuses that undermine the first two parts.  Take, for example, Tony Kornheiser’s recent apology for sexist comments he made about Hannah Storm’s outfit at the Olympics.  Kornheiser correctly recognizes his remarks were intemperate and stupid, and offers an apology to Storm.  But he then feels the need to add the line, “If you put a live microphone in front of somebody, eventually that person will say something wrong.”  At least two problems with this statement:  1) while I cannot account for every statement ever made by everyone who’s spent significant time in front of a microphone, I’m pretty sure it’s not true, at least to the extent that “wrong”=”offensive”; and 2) to the extent that it is true, it’s meaningless and unnecessary.  Imagine how ridiculous a similar statement would be in another context:  you say something hurtful to a close friend, apologize, but then add “you know, if you and I are going to talk every day, eventually I’m going to say something wrong.”

Even worse is the apology/non-apology, where what seems like an apology is really a disingenuous and implausible explanation for why there’s no need to apologize.  The most common variation of this is “My words were taken out of context.”  My favorite example comes from an ESPN the Magazine article I read a few years back, in which an NFL player admitted to telling his wife “I’ll be just like OJ and you’ll be Nicole,” but claimed these words were taken out of context.  While it’s literally true that every time a quote is reproduced it’s taken out of context, it’s hard to imagine a context that would excuse that statement.

Closely related to implausible claims that a quote was taken “out of context” are implausible claims that a quote was misinterpreted.  Such was the excuse of Virginia Delegate Bob Marshall for his contention that disabled children are God’s way of punishing women for abortions.  For a full evisceration of Marshall and the implausibility of his “apology,” see the always wonderful Kate Harding.

Sadly, I have no recent examples of the worst form of public apology, the “I’m sorry if anyone was offended,” which essentially translates to “Suck it up, crybabies.”  But I will highlight a particularly egregious example:  last year Senator Jim Bunning apologized for predicting that Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg would soon be dead, but his apology was conditioned on Justice Ginsburg being offended.

One last note:  even if you get the words right and avoid counterproductive excuses and qualifications, it helps if you aren’t just awkwardly reading a statement and occasionally raising the volume of your voice to indicate anger.

-AR

This guy:

Queen of the Crazies Michelle Bachmann, organizer of the rally, referred to the gathering as the “Super Bowl of Freedom.” This is another odd metaphor, since the Super Bowl implies the two worthiest competitors in a given field vying to see who is the best. It’s hard to imagine how Mao and Hitler made it through the quarterfinals and semi-finals of Freedom.

The Republican members of Congress who participated showed that they might not be Super Bowl caliber Freedomers themselves. Minority Leader John Boehner announced that he was going to read from the Constitution, and proceeded to read from the Declaration of Independence. Rep. Todd Akin led the crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance in order to “drive the liberals crazy,” and then proceeded to screw up the words.

The Republican rally was full of war metaphors as well.  Capitol Hill became Lexington, Concord, Pork Chop Hill, and Hamburger Hill all rolled into one, not to be abandoned until the Democratic health care bill is “killed.” The Republicans and their teabagging followers referred to themselves as “freedom fighters.”

Curiously, despite all the war metaphors and the vitriolic rhetoric about government run health care being an evil worse than terrorism and equal to Nazism, no one in the crowd struck a literal blow against government run health care when given the opportunity. After a protester suffered a heart attack, he was attended to by medical personnel from the Capitol physician’s office. Health care employees employed by the United States government!!!!!! Rather than bludgeoning the paramedics, who are essentially SS officers in Glenn Beck Land, the protesters cleared a path so the person could be treated. Apparently, when faced with the suffering a real live human being, concern for human life takes precedence over ideological concerns about the proper role of government.

Just a couple days before this sorry spectacle on Capitol Hill, the Republicans released their alternative health care proposal (nothing like waiting till the last minute). Over the next 10 years, the Republican plan would lower the number of uninsured from 17% of the population to . . . 17% of the population. Compare this to the Democratic House bill, which lowers the percentage of uninsured Americans to 4% of the population.
Ah, but as the protesters made clear yesterday, the real evil we must be afraid of is not people lacking health insurance, but growth of  government. And the Republican plan is estimated to decrease the federal deficit by $68 billion. . . which is only $36 billion less than the Democratic plan trims from the deficit. So the Democratic plan both saves more and does more than the Republican plan. As Ezra Klein puts it:

It’s one thing to keep your cards close to your chest. Republicans are in the minority, after all, and their plan stands no chance of passage. It’s another to lay them out on the table and show everyone that you have no hand, and aren’t even totally sure how to play the game.

-AR

Click here to view the embedded video.