Richard Sherman gave an interview Sunday night that I thought he would regret. Sherman squashed San Francisco’s comeback dream with a brilliantly athletic play, defending a pass that resulted in a game-sealing INT. No sooner had the final whistle blown did the microphones descend upon the Seahawks’ hero. It was intense, harsh, threatening, boastful, egotistic, and prideful. It was exactly what football is like between the lines–it just spilled over.
Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of beautiful blonde sideline reporter Erin Andrews and be-dreaded Sherman yelling into the camera about how nobody should try him; perhaps it was the shock of Sherman’s candor in a situation generally exemplified by platitudes and niceties; perhaps it was simply the stark realization of just how different football players are on the field and off it. Whatever it was, the reaction was swift and fierce. America sounded off: Sherman = evil.
I see things differently, and as I relaxed on a day off in honor of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, I used the time to reflect on some things that this country still needs to face.
We’re a country of bigots and idiots. We see Sherman yelling about disrespect following a three hour battle of wills, and we immediately cast him as a thug and drug user. We see a large black man with dreads hollering about people “coming at me” and we feel sorry for the bystanders who may be endangered by this man’s blind rage. Little wrath is spent on the man who spends a good portion of every game broiling into apoplectic rage on the sidelines, hollering about the smallest of officiating miscues and dropping F-bombs so loudly the sideline cameras pick them up. No, Jim Harbaugh’s behavior is lauded as evidence of his “passion.” Announcers guffaw as FOX shows his spittle fly in slow motion. When he goes especially berserk, his antics aren’t admonished so much as chuckled at–described as a 3-year-old throwing temper tantrums and screaming. I’m not sure there could be a better indicator of our nation’s outlook than the reaction to these two men. Sherman, black, saw his interview cut short and a vitriolic uproar ensue on social media; Harbaugh, white, earned a few laughs and his own slow-mo highlight reel. To be blunt, it’s a matter of race and inequality that is all too often ignored by our media.
I have the good fortune of watching about 15 minutes of SportsCenter every morning as I tie my tie for work and eat my oatmeal. Earlier this week there was a great account of the struggles that Knowshon Moreno has faced in his life and the challenges that he has overcome. My recollection of the events told: his father was out of the picture, his mother was a drug user and homeless. Knowshon was homeless in New York City until his 12th birthday, at which point his grandmother brought him to New Jersey and put a roof over his head. He’s now an NFL running back and has made somewhere in the neighborhood of $13 Million since he entered the league in 2009.
His story inspired me to pursue data regarding childhood family income disparity across NFL positions. I have not been able to find that data, but plan to do my own investigation on the hypothesis that the whites in the NFL were far more privileged than their black colleagues. That’s another story for another day, but know that even in the Broncos backfield, the disparity between white and black is obvious. Peyton Manning was raised with privilege as the son of a former NFL quarterback. There’s at least one website that says four year old Peyton went missing while the family vacationed in Hawaii. Peyton earned $18 Million in 2013 alone.
The difference in childhood income does matter, but I’m more concerned with our reception of individuals from different backgrounds and different cultures.
Whenever we see someone like Sherman go off, we expect it is because of his street upbringing, or some other social factors that influence his behavior. When we read the same guy explain himself in an open letter published by Sports Illustrated using words like ‘caveat’ ‘villainous’ and ‘accurate representation,’ we realize that he’s a dynamic individual capable of thought and elocution (he did go to Stanford). Shouldn’t we have realized this during his interview? Wasn’t Sherman expressing himself in his interview with at least an ample level of thought and articulation?
There are different ways to say things, different ways to express yourself.
All too often interpretations of one person’s speech are wrong. It happens every day between married couples, coworkers, teammates, friends, twins, and enemies. Language is not perfect and the audience’s interpretation of the message can be misconstrued regardless of any social differences.
What happens when Richard Sherman is asked to communicate to a national audience following three hours of intense physical activity the intensity of which most of us cannot comprehend? We are surprised and shocked by what comes out of his mouth. I’m not advocating for the suspension of the rules of grammar when an athlete from Compton is asked to elucidate how he contorted his body, timed his leap and sent his team to the Super Bowl. Rather, I’m asking that we listen to his communication and not be shocked by what flows from his mouth. But, I was shocked. Nearly everyone across America was shocked. Why? The same tolerance and acceptance displayed when Jim Harbaugh yells was distinctly absent when Sherman gave his interview.
Following the Broncos victory over the Chargers, Peyton Manning gave an interview in which he said he was thinking about a cold Bud Light after the game. Nobody cared. We really shouldn’t have. But, would we have cared if Richard Sherman or some other black athlete had voiced a similar sentiment? I’m not sure.
Ultimately, it comes down to acceptance. As a country and as a collective, the same social rules that apply to white men raised in privilege need to apply to black men raised in Compton. I’m not sure that a white man raised in privilege would ever yell quite the way that Sherman did on Sunday, but that speaks more to our country’s issues than my limited vocabulary ever could.
-Sean Morash
