The past few days in sports remind me of three quick stories I’d like to share with you.
The first story goes back to my days teaching high school chemistry and physics and coaching football in Florida. I had a chemistry student named Chris, who happened to be a monster linebacker on the varsity team. Well, long story short, Chris was far from a rocket scientist; in fact, I suspect he was functionally illiterate and borderline mentally retarded (at least that was the chatter among other teachers). But Chris needed to pass all his classes, by hook or by crook, in order to maintain eligibility to play on the team, not to mention have any hope at a football scholarship in college.
I had been teaching high school science and coaching football for a few years already, and Chris was hardly the first kid like this in my classes, and for kids like Chris I had what I call “The Bubba Rule”, as in “Bubba needs to pass so he can play ball” (I usually say this in a slow, hillbilly-like drawl). So, to help the helpless, I created a special grade for the Bubbas in my classes who I also coached on the field, a “D” so low for my standards back then you’d really have to be a complete dimwit not to pass a basic chemistry course. What was my so low standard? A 50-percent average. Why 50? Because I felt no one deserved to pass a basic class if you couldn’t demonstrate comprehension of half the course material.
Now after all these years of teaching the most brutal levels of chemistry and physics to aspiring doctors, engineers and other scientists, that 50 average is a badge of honor for many students. You’ve heard of Magna Cum Laude and Suma Cum Laude, right? Well, you’d be surprised how many engineering majors say Thank You Lordy after getting by one of my killer college courses. But back in the 1980s, 50 was a booby prize for floundering in my high school classroom, and Chris was one of several Bubbas sweating it out to try and reach the cut-off for the booby prize. Sadly, he never came close; scoring double digits on a test was a monumental achievement for this kid.
Somehow Chris accumulated enough D’s on his transcript to graduate high school, even without passing chemistry, but no matter how big a monster he was on the football field, no college would take a look at him (don’t even ask about his SAT scores), and he started taking classes at the nearby community college, where everyone gets admitted. He lasted a semester, floundering in almost every remedial course he had to take before even starting college-level classes. He never played football again, and the last I remember, he was working locally as a janitor.
But that’s not the point of the story. Every home game, Chris would show up, walk through the bleachers to a hero’s welcome, and be a local celebrity. Here was a kid who could barely read, write or do basic arithmetic, would likely work in unskilled jobs for the rest of his life, and yet he was everyone’s local All-American because of what he did on a high school football field for four years. No matter how he struggled as a young man, or whatever trouble he got into, he always got a rousing cheer from the locals when he showed up on Friday nights.
My second story is more recent, about seven years ago, when I got married. Most of my close friends who regularly read my columns already know the story. At the big reception (ironically three weeks after the wedding, but that’s another story…), my now ex-mother-law (soon it will be obvious why…) got up in front of 300 guests in the social hall at an orthodox synagogue to give a toast on behalf of her daughter (my ex-wife) and me. Well, somehow she never quite got around to toasting us, and instead toasted herself at the end of her long-winded speech. How does the mother of the bride toast herself? She yelled, “Mazal tov to ME!”
Now, I must disclose that my ex-wife was the elder daughter, single until her forties (some might’ve called her a… gasp… SPINSTER), so it’s quite plausible for an almost-70-year-old woman to feel relief when she finally married her eldest daughter off, but – and my friends will concur this – it gave many the impression that my ex-mother-in-law thought the wedding was all about her instead of the bride and groom. Come to think of it, she thought the entire marriage was about her, but again, that’s another story.
My third story is also more recent, around the same timeframe, and it’s about an observation I made while driving through a particular neighborhood in New Jersey. As I was driving through this neighborhood I passed by a house that served as a day-care center. Well, what’s so odd about that? There was a big sign in front of the house, and it said All About Me Daycare Center. I kid you not!
Why do these three stories all resonate with me during this week in sports? I give you Michael Vick, DeMarcus Russell, and LeBron James. Are you catching on?
As we all know, Michael Vick is still trying to redeem himself after his conviction and imprisonment for funding and operating a dog-fighting operation on his Virginia property. After his release from prison, Vick was signed as a free agent by the Philadelphia Eagles amid great protest, and generally had an uneventful and unimpressive 2009 season as the third-string quarterback, primarily in the Eagles’ version of the wildcat offense. The Eagles traded away Donovan McNabb to the Redskins and Vick moved up the depth chart to be primary backup to Kevin Kolb.
Well, now Michael Vick is in a bit of hot water because his 30th birthday ended with the wrong kind of bang. I’m not going to get into the details, because local authorities are still trying to get to the bottom of everything pending cooperation of the shooting victim, one of Vick’s dog-fighting co-defendants. But now NFL commissioner Roger Goodell needs to meet with Vick to discuss this likely breach of reinstatement conditions, which could lead to disciplinary action, or worse, being cut by the Eagles, thus losing out on a better-than $5-million salary.
As I wrote in my last column, I think the Eagles should cut bait and let Vick go. I also have reservations about any of the other 31 NFL teams signing him afterwards. As far as I’m concerned, Vick’s 30th birthday party demonstrates where he falls on the stupid meter, and he’s flushed his last chance at reviving his career down the toilet.
I had a brief twitter conversation with Sirius Radio’s Bomani Jones, and he brought up a very intriguing point: I don't think [Vick’s situation] is quite that simple. What isn’t discussed enough--other than club promotions, how can he make money?
Think about what Bomani’s saying: If Michael Vick can’t play professional football, how else can he earn a living besides making paid appearances at clubs, even to celebrate his own 30th birthday? We’re talking about a guy who supposedly will earn more than $5-million being a backup quarterback, as long as he kept himself out of trouble. $5-million isn’t enough dough for the current fiscal year? Yes, I know Vick has legal bills and other debts to pay related to 23 months in prison and having his previous contract with the Falcons invalidated, but he needs to make pubic appearances for cash? How much did he earn for showing up to celebrate his own birthday? Sorry, but something doesn’t exactly compute to this scientist.
Economics aside, Bomani did stimulate my intellect to ask why aren’t we pushing professional athletes more to have completed college degrees so they CAN do something besides play ball, spin records as DJs, host parties, make rap videos, or become another talking drone on ESPN (no offense to my ex-playing brethren who work for ESPN or other networks, but you guys know what I mean…). Well, my question is moot, because the answer is somewhat rhetorical – so many of these players lack college degrees because no one has pushed them to take education seriously from almost Day One of everyone recognizing their athletic talent. Parents are guilty of this. K-12 teachers and administrators are guilty of this. Coaches are definitely guilty of this, the NCAA perpetuates the farce, and NFL is stuck holding the bag. And what does the NFL do? All you have to do is look at the number of programs, internships and seminars organized by the Player Development Division, programs, internships and seminars focusing on how to become a talking drone for one of the many sports networks on television or radio. Who’s the biggest enabler among these sports networks? Da-da-dum, Da-da-dum! You guessed it, ESPN. While I agree it’s a great thing to provide professional athletes opportunities to get exposure and experience in sports broadcasting, it is getting a tad out of hand, and all those This is SportsCenter commercials illustrate too much of a good thing.
Time for a little math lesson, boys and girls… By my best count, we have 120 NCAA Football Bowl Subdivision (Division I-A) teams, 134 Football Championship Subdivision (Division I-AA) teams, 151 Division II football teams, and 238 Division III football teams. Let’s assume each team has an average of 60 players, so this gives us approximately 38,580 total college football players in any given year. There are 32 NFL teams, and each team has an active roster of 53 players and 5 or 6 players on the practice squad. Assuming each NFL team employs 59 players, this means 1,888 total players employed by the NFL during any given season. If we assume only one-quarter of the total college football players were eligible to seek a professional career each year, and every NFL team purged their entire roster, 9,645 new aspiring professionals are competing for only 1,888 jobs. What this means is that under the most ideal statistical conditions, five players are competing for every opening on an NFL roster.
What’s the take-home lesson? Even using the most idealistic algorithm there are simply not enough NFL jobs for kids coming out of the college ranks, meaning the majority of college football players’ careers will end upon leaving campus for the last time, college degree in hand or not. So, when your playing days are over, and the cheering stops for you, what will you do if the NFL is not in your future?
Well, if you’re like me, or thousands of other kids who finished college life, you hang up your cleats and pads, take your degree, and move into the real world as an educated adult. Maybe you go to grad school, med school, law school, the corporate world, or the public sector. But what if you never completed your degree, or perhaps never really bothered to genuinely start it while occupying space on a college campus? What can you do besides play football? Can you go back to school? Why bother… you never cared about school in the first place. Can you find a job in the real world? Yeah, like who’s gonna hire an uneducated ex-jock to work in a bank, or a hospital, or for a major corporation? Maybe if you’re wiling to trade in your football uniform for a uniform that one wears while pushing a broom or mop…
As Bomani Jones asked, what else can a guy like Michael Vick do besides play football or make public appearances as Michael Vick? Once Vick’s football career finally ends for good, I shudder to think how pathetic his post-football life will be. Picture for yourself the image of Jesse Owens racing horses at the "Old Horseshoe" on Ohio State’s campus after winning four gold medals at the 1936 Olympics. And Owens had a college education! Could you imagine Vick racing with the greyhounds someday, chasing a mechanical rabbit? It’s sad when you really think about it.
Another NFL quarterback about to see his career finally go poof is DeMarcus Russell. The former Oakland Raider (and once possible New York Jet) has demonstrated his position on the stupid meter by getting arrested with codeine syrup he obtained illegally. Again, I’m not going to discuss the legal process, because as we all well know, local authorities have a way of botching up their cases with Keystone Cop regularity. But Russell is another player soon to ask himself what will he do when football is no longer a part of his life and the cheering stops (well, Russell already has advanced practice, given how lousy he played in Oakland). To my knowledge Russell is another player who left college without making any significant progress towards his degree. While Vick could at least host parties at clubs, Russell may have to resort to ribbon cutting at rehab centers, fat farms, and pharmacies.
This leads me to LeBron James, his ego, his narcissism and his chutzpah (better known as me, myself, I, and my essence). Okay, so James is a free agent for the first time in his life where he has a choice and can call the shots on his future. Okay, so the Knicks, Nets, Heats, Cavs, Bulls, and Clippers all shamelessly groveled to him in order to secure his services towards future NBA titles and riches. LeBron’s gonna stay with the Cavs, never to leave Cleveland. No, he’s signing with the Knicks. No, he’s joining Jay-Z in Newark en route to Brooklyn. No, he’s coming to South Beach. No, he’s coming to Chi-Town to make the locals forget all about Michael Jordan and his statue too. No, what about the Clippers? Yeah, right.
James’ future destination has changed more often than Brett Favre’s retirement plans, and chances are Cleveland, New York, Chicago and Miami will take turns being in play every hour until James’ self-orchestrated infomercial with ESPN tonight at 9:00pm EST. I have no intention of watching this crass self-commercialization of James with ESPN as his willing dupe. I can find a few better things to watch on TV and simply hear the verdict during the 11:00pm news, or maybe I’ll just wait until Friday morning and read it in the newspaper funnies, because when you think about it long enough the whole thing is a joke, James has made a punch line out of himself, and ESPN might as well change its theme song to Send in the Clowns.
But as many have already written, especially Yahoo Sports’ Adrian Wojnarowski, James and his posse haven’t the slightest clue of how farcical and embarrassing this one-hour special on ESPN really is. Think about it, a 25-year-old man-child, albeit one of the NBA’s best players, has turned his free agency into a foolish celebration of himself. Whomever finally signs him to a maximum-salary contract really has to wonder if James has the intellectual or emotional maturity needed to lead or help lead their team to championship. While talking drones (yes, some of these guys ARE drones, and they know who they are) go on and on about James being the key piece in the giant puzzle of roster moves for the 2010-2011 season, James clearly drank the Kool-Aid and bought the chatter hook, line, and sinker… the free agent market was all about him, and each team’s future success was all about him, and the NBA, a league loaded with self-absorbed millionaires while it losses hundreds of millions of dollars each season (according to Commissioner David Stern), is all about him. A 25-year-old kid who’s yet to win an NBA title despite being a two-time league MVP, thinks the entire hoops world revolves around him, and ESPN indulges him in every possible way.
What’s going to happen to James when his career ends and the NBA starts revolving around some other man-child? What is LeBron going to do with himself when the cheering stops, assuming he doesn’t fritter away his wealth from a long-term guaranteed contract? What happens if he does need an income after he leaves the game? What can he do besides play hoops and be Big Man Around Town (since he never went to college, we can’t call him Big Man on Campus)?
Michael Vick, DeMarcus Russell, and LeBron James have all spent most of their lives being cheered and celebrated for their athletic ability and achievements while their already lacking adult education or adult maturity remain stunted, perhaps permanently. Some day all three of these guys will stop hearing cheers. Some day all three of these guys will have to find something else to do in order to be productive adults and citizens of society. All three of these guys have created a circus of sorts at this point of their careers. Are there enough rings under the Big Top to provide them something meaningful to do as they get older, or will they all need to sit in the bleachers for artificial glory and nostalgia like my former student Chris? This is the flaw with living life thinking it’s all about you… eventually you become a caricature of your prime and folks forget about the way you used to be great. No matter where LeBron James ends up tonight, he can forget about me offering any congratulations. I can’t congratulate someone if I’m still not clear on what exactly he accomplished.
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