You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will by Colin Cowherd Page A
Authors: Colin Cowherd
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repercussions—it’s the NFL, not the NBA. Fans don’t see the facesor the tats or sit close enough to feel the heat coming off their bodies. The NFL is detached, impersonal, a bunch of pads running into each other for entertainment and gambling purposes.
Here’s another stat: the NFL had twenty-seven arrests in twenty-three weeks—twenty-three
weeks
—in the off-season following the 2012–13 season. That’s more than an arrest a week. But it doesn’t stick to the NFL. They don’t lose advertisers, we don’t judge them, we don’t refuse to show up to local games. Nobody in Indianapolis seems to say, “I’m not going to watch the Colts this weekend because several published reports have linked Marvin Harrison to the 2008 murder of a man named Dwight Dixon in Philadelphia.” No, because what’s happening with the Pacers is almost unheard of in American sports. They’re winning in a boring two-team-market town and nobody is going to the games.
Outdrawn by the T-Wolves.
Outdrawn by the Suns.
The
Suns
?
Yes, the Suns.
Have you
seen
the Suns?
Permit me this tangent: a study of 3,500 NBA players showed that each one plays for 2.5 teams over the course of his career. Players who average more than thirty minutes per game during their careers—star or high-end players—play for an average of 2.99 teams. Even star players like Patrick Ewing and Karl Malone and Michael Jordan don’t end their careers in the same uniform they wore their rookie years. Everybody gets traded in the NBA, but it’s rarely on players’ terms.
With this routine changing of uniforms, why were so many people outraged by LeBron James leaving Cleveland? Was it because a black player—on
his
terms—chose his destination? The words of Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert were telling. He calledit “cowardly betrayal,” “selfish,” a “shocking act of disloyalty,” a “heartless and callous action.” It reads like a vicious, crazed Zagat entry.
But before we crucify LeBron, can it be duly noted that in seven years in Cleveland they—meaning Gilbert—didn’t provide him with another all-star–caliber player? And can it be noted, for the record, that James was … you know … a
free
agent?
I believe part of the backlash against LeBron relates to the aftereffects from the Malice in the Palace. It’s the fear of the threatening black man. LeBron is big, he’s strong, he’s got tats, he scowls. I’m not saying that’s all of it, but that’s part of it. I’m not saying we love all white athletes. I’m not saying we dislike or fear all black athletes. But when you look at Dan Gilbert and you look at the Indiana Pacers and you look at the way we hold NBA players accountable for off-field indiscretions, the conclusion is indisputable: it’s a much,
much
harsher standard than you find anywhere else. If Charlie Sheen acts like a douche bag, it doesn’t speak for all Caucasians. When Josh Brent got a DUI and killed his friend, it didn’t speak for every NFL player. Hell, it didn’t even speak for every Dallas Cowboy. It simply doesn’t stick. But if Latrell Sprewell chokes a coach, or Ron Artest throws a punch, it seems to speak in some broad sense for all African-American NBA players.
(It’s interesting to note that Kevin Durant—marketed across the country as nonthreatening and friendly and likable, for good reason—has a ton of tats. The difference? He’s placed them strategically inside his uniform shell. They’re there, but you just don’t see them, therefore he’s palatable to the ticket-buying segment of corporate white America.)
I’ve been talking about sports professionally for more than twenty years, and the word
thug
on my Twitter account and e-mails—especially e-mails—gets used routinely to label NBAplayers. The occurrence of this one word in reference to NBA players far exceeds that of any other sport. It’s not even close. Former NBA star and current ESPN commentator Jalen Rose once told me that
Here’s another stat: the NFL had twenty-seven arrests in twenty-three weeks—twenty-three
weeks
—in the off-season following the 2012–13 season. That’s more than an arrest a week. But it doesn’t stick to the NFL. They don’t lose advertisers, we don’t judge them, we don’t refuse to show up to local games. Nobody in Indianapolis seems to say, “I’m not going to watch the Colts this weekend because several published reports have linked Marvin Harrison to the 2008 murder of a man named Dwight Dixon in Philadelphia.” No, because what’s happening with the Pacers is almost unheard of in American sports. They’re winning in a boring two-team-market town and nobody is going to the games.
Outdrawn by the T-Wolves.
Outdrawn by the Suns.
The
Suns
?
Yes, the Suns.
Have you
seen
the Suns?
Permit me this tangent: a study of 3,500 NBA players showed that each one plays for 2.5 teams over the course of his career. Players who average more than thirty minutes per game during their careers—star or high-end players—play for an average of 2.99 teams. Even star players like Patrick Ewing and Karl Malone and Michael Jordan don’t end their careers in the same uniform they wore their rookie years. Everybody gets traded in the NBA, but it’s rarely on players’ terms.
With this routine changing of uniforms, why were so many people outraged by LeBron James leaving Cleveland? Was it because a black player—on
his
terms—chose his destination? The words of Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert were telling. He calledit “cowardly betrayal,” “selfish,” a “shocking act of disloyalty,” a “heartless and callous action.” It reads like a vicious, crazed Zagat entry.
But before we crucify LeBron, can it be duly noted that in seven years in Cleveland they—meaning Gilbert—didn’t provide him with another all-star–caliber player? And can it be noted, for the record, that James was … you know … a
free
agent?
I believe part of the backlash against LeBron relates to the aftereffects from the Malice in the Palace. It’s the fear of the threatening black man. LeBron is big, he’s strong, he’s got tats, he scowls. I’m not saying that’s all of it, but that’s part of it. I’m not saying we love all white athletes. I’m not saying we dislike or fear all black athletes. But when you look at Dan Gilbert and you look at the Indiana Pacers and you look at the way we hold NBA players accountable for off-field indiscretions, the conclusion is indisputable: it’s a much,
much
harsher standard than you find anywhere else. If Charlie Sheen acts like a douche bag, it doesn’t speak for all Caucasians. When Josh Brent got a DUI and killed his friend, it didn’t speak for every NFL player. Hell, it didn’t even speak for every Dallas Cowboy. It simply doesn’t stick. But if Latrell Sprewell chokes a coach, or Ron Artest throws a punch, it seems to speak in some broad sense for all African-American NBA players.
(It’s interesting to note that Kevin Durant—marketed across the country as nonthreatening and friendly and likable, for good reason—has a ton of tats. The difference? He’s placed them strategically inside his uniform shell. They’re there, but you just don’t see them, therefore he’s palatable to the ticket-buying segment of corporate white America.)
I’ve been talking about sports professionally for more than twenty years, and the word
thug
on my Twitter account and e-mails—especially e-mails—gets used routinely to label NBAplayers. The occurrence of this one word in reference to NBA players far exceeds that of any other sport. It’s not even close. Former NBA star and current ESPN commentator Jalen Rose once told me that
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