In a recent GQ feature on Cam Newton, the MVP quarterback of the Carolina Panthers refined his thoughts on being labeled by some fans and commentators as “selfish and disingenuous.” Newton, who is African-American, said he believes the criticism is not based on skin color, but rather a difference of views and perspectives.
“I don’t want this to be about race, because it’s not. It’s not,” he said. “Like, we’re beyond that. As a nation.”
Such is the life of a modern athlete, particularly minorities, where opinions are held as weapons against disagreeing fans, media, organizations and sponsors. Athletes take a risk in post-game press conferences or when being recorded for a news publication, as words can be taken out of context.
But there can be an underlying cost of saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time and at the wrong political moment. In this case, Newton’s comments were bashed in Black publications like the Root and the Huffington Post’s Black Voices section as unsympathetic to the discussion of inequality in America.
Because of the threat of criticism for political stances and losing sponsorships, athletes are subtly encouraged to vary or conceal their stances on current affairs.
In the same GQ feature, the author said the NFL is “by far our most buttoned-down, militaristic, conservative, tyrannical, anti-individual league.”
Roger Goodell, NFL commissioner, has been condemned by media and players for his handling of various league issues including brain injuries, team-sanctioned bounties, labor negotiations, celebrations, cheating and domestic violence. Just this offseason, Seattle Seahawks defensive end Michael Bennett called Goodell an “a–hole,” then later said, “nah, I’m just joking — you can’t say that. Overpaid.” Goodell earned $34 million in 2014.
Bennett’s younger brother Martellus, a tight end for the New England Patriots, said “NFL” stands for “N—-s for lease.” The NFL is projected to earn $13 billion for the coming season, an increase of 50 percent since 2010, according to Forbes, which is mostly due to the NFL’s domination of ratings and advertising dollars.
But the world for American athletes has changed since salaries increased in the 1970s, again in the 1980s, again in the 1990s and exploded into the new millennium.
Peyton Manning no longer just graces a muted orange Wheaties box in his familiar No. 18 calling card; he’s also sponsored Gatorade, Buick, Nationwide, Papa John’s, DirecTV and Nike (after 12 years of pitching for Reebok). Last season, Manning earned approximately $12 million from advertising and was once again the most endorsed athlete in the sport.
But Manning has maintained his beloved status in ways Newton has not. The loss Newton’s Panthers suffered to Manning’s Denver Broncos in last year’s championship game was more than a battle of skill. Between the lines, it was true theater between two quarterbacks with very different approaches to the sport — one understated and safe, one entertaining and brash.
Newton, because of his talent and his penchant for the dramatic, is a marketing force in his own right due to Under Armour apparel, L’Oreal fragrances, Dannon yogurt and EA Sports. His latest NFL contract may have been signed for five years and more than $100 million, but the power of his advertising voice can extend his career in ways a jersey and cleats cannot. Manning knows this, and it’s the reason why we will be seeing him eating pizza and selling mid-level sedans for decades to come.
But an athlete’s voice does not have to be confined to selling products. Fame can be used to spur social change — like a Muhammad Ali or Tommie Smith and John Carlos in 1968’s Summer Olympics.
Butler University professor Allison Harthcock, an expert in sports media, described the relationship between money, sports and politics as “complicated for athletes all-around.” She said the problem for athletes is that one’s personal gain for being political does not always translate well through media.
In short, speaking up always raises the stakes.
“I think the luxury of already having success and financial security makes it a less risky proposition,” she said. “Having said that, there are big name athletes that have spoken out about Black Lives Matter and gay rights and have received different levels of pushback.”
Just this year, the Olympic Games has shined a light on medal-winners Simone Manuel, Simone Biles, Michelle Carter and Ibtihaj Muhammad for their successes as athletes, as well as Black athletes. As of press time, they had not made political or “controversial” statements about their positions on race in history, but Olympic gymnast Gabby Douglas rests on the other side of the aisle, receiving critique in matters unrelated to her sport, such as her hair.
This is essentially where the Black athlete stands: Should one fit in or stand out and fight against oppression? And at what cost?
For an athlete like LeBron James, who has weathered various moments of public opinion internet hate, the risks are always present and substantial. But for an athlete like Michael Sam, and other professional athletes who claim the LGBTQ community as their own, a risk of being shunned and pushed out of their sport, in Sam’s case to the Canadian Football League, is always a possibility.
“I think there’s a risk for all athletes when they make political statements,” Harthcock said. “It’s about how they can mitigate those risks and how much they’re willing to risk.”
For Sam, who became the first publicly gay individual to be drafted in the NFL, his statement was personal as well as political. President Barack Obama congratulated the now-Los Angeles Rams organization for drafting Sam and “taking an important step forward today in our nation’s journey,” according to CNN.
But Sam, who said he does not regret his decision to be openly gay, believes “it probably would have been better for me if I didn’t come out.”
Adding to Sam’s predicament was the intersectionality of his existence; he was talented enough to make the NFL after a season of being one of college football’s award-winning defenders, but the battle to be “one of the boys” is still a problem for athletes.
“I would argue that who loses and who doesn’t depends on their race sometimes, quite frankly,” Hartchock said. “But it depends on a lot of things that are incredibly complex. When it comes to endorsement deals, there seems to be a tide that’s shifting where athletes are more likely to speak out about many issues, and companies and teams are more likely to let it happen. In the past, that did not always happen.
“Now I think we’ve seen a cultural shift where some brands are willing to stand by their athletes when it’s a social justice issue,” she said, referring to ideas like Black Lives Matter. “Maybe it’s because we’ve reached a cultural moment where people say, ‘No, no, this needs to be said,’ and brands can accept that.”
The fear of speaking out still seems present, as seen in Newton’s GQ interview. He showed a reluctance to comment on North Carolina’s controversial bathroom law when he said, “That’s too personal. You know, I gain nothing by answering it.”
Michael Jordan, one of Newton’s self-proclaimed idols, has also felt the effects of ranging political opinions, as his team in Charlotte lost the rights to host the 2017 NBA All-Star Weekend due to the aforementioned bill, which limits anti-discrimination protections for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people in the state.
Multiple players reacted to the decision, most notably Carmelo Anthony of the New York Knicks, who said, “Aside from all the politics, I feel bad for (Hornets chairman Michael Jordan) because I knew what that was going to do for the city of Charlotte,” Anthony told ESPN. “It was definitely going to boost everything. For him being able to bring All-Star Weekend to Charlotte. I feel bad for him and for the NBA, too. We as players didn’t think it was going to get to this. It’s unfortunate.”
Although Jordan’s organization said they “understand the NBA’s decision,” there was a financial price to pay for moving the event suddenly, an estimated $100 million loss that could have supported schools, roads and infrastructure, according to Sen. Jeff Jackson, D-Mecklenburg County. “We’ve sacrificed all of that for Gov. McCrory’s social agenda,” Jackson said. “He would rather pander to his base than fix an obvious mistake that has major consequences.”
The NBA took a risk in changing the venue due to politics, too, but Harthcock believes political decisions can be heavier for individual athletes in comparison to the organizations.
Anthony — a star forward with endorsements of his own in the biggest media market in the country, New York — has called for athletes to be more vocal about Black Lives Matter. The NBA has not told its players to back away from the issue publicly.
“To punish an African-American for saying, ‘I deserve rights’ is hypocritical, since 75 percent of the NBA is Black. They know that,” Harthcock said. “But even though the teams won’t stop you, they won’t necessarily support you, either.” Harthcock noted a situation with the WNBA as their star athletes stood in solidarity with victims of police shootings in July.
In the end, Harthcock echoed sentiments repeated by sports columnists in the past, which is the idea that white athletes and organizations, which are mostly owned by rich white men statistically, should speak on behalf of their peers and support equality across gender, race, religion and sexuality.
Like the people who write about and cover sports, another predominantly white collective, many individuals place themselves in positions to reap the benefits without incurring any costs. In Harthcock’s mind, this leaves room for improvement among the base of white athletes who have stayed silent on an array of modern political issues.
“White male athletes are in many ways at the apex of the social hierarchy,” she said. “But I think it’s incredibly important for white athletes to speak up, too. I think that’s where men’s sports especially miss out.”
Harthcock also stressed the importance of white athletes being allies only, due to the risk of becoming saviors coming to the rescue of minorities who are “in need of assistance.”
“If you ever had an experience of being ‘other,’ having a disability, being a woman, being non-white, you know what it’s like to be ‘othered’ somehow and being treated unfairly. It might make you more inclined to speak on behalf of other people,” she said, saying white athletes should support their peers once they understand the issues at hand.
One white athlete, Huston Street of the Los Angeles Angels, tweeted respects for Alton Sterling and Philando Castile and was received positively for doing so.
“Sometimes people need to hear someone who looks like them say these things. It helps when a white athlete makes those statements,” Harthcock said. “Maybe people can dismiss others, but people won’t as easily dismiss their friends.”
