We need our idols to remain pristine if only for the sake of the game, our indulgences, our entertainment, or our distorted sense of self-worth?
Sorry Manny Pacquiao fans, this will not be red meat for you to fill your digestive tracts with even more disdain for the pound-for-pound kingpin. There will certainly be articles and commentary to whet your appetite in the coming months, as the two fighters, their handlers, and respective networks decide to stop with the excuses once and for all and get the much anticipated match up done or not.
The question posed here is of a far more delicate and I would argue more significant matter than any fight Floyd Mayweather might ever have. The silence is deafening and the public hypocrisy, namely that of the sports press is egregious; and I like so many others am just as guilty. I?d like to believe myself to be a sober minded individual with an honest intellect, but the truth is, such an aspiration is a conscientious effort that requires renewed personal engagement again and again. It requires me to unchain myself from the prejudices and beliefs, so deeply etched into my very soul, that to break free of them and think em>scientifically, without passion or prejudgment would likely incur a measure of great discomfort.
We love our idols. We love them with a blind devotion that permits us to deny their humanity, for better or for worse. We erect them to the status of gods, not the true and living God who requires of us, but gods in our own image, who we, require of.
We need Manny Pacquiao to be an icon without peer to the Filipino people ? not a womanizing-gambler. We need Muhammad Ali to be ?The Greatest of All Time,? the Louisville Lip, who defied the US Government ? not the womanizing, author of some of the most brutal and racially charged diatribes in sports history. We need Sugar Ray Leonard to be boxing?s first $100 million dollar man ? not a drug addict. We need Floyd Mayweather Jr. to be the most dominate brand in sports ? not a batterer of women. We need our idols to remain pristine if only for the sake of the game, our indulgences, our entertainment, or our distorted sense of self-worth.
No sport is without its very human gods. Truly, ?all have sinned and fallen short?? Yet, professional sports exposes in us, a most distorted duality. It is perhaps the only arena where power and privilege are firmly ensconced by a public, which craves its amusements. Whose superhuman participants are almost always immediately pardoned of any and all transgressions, often via an accommodating judicial system, that Joe the bus driver or Jill the single mother of two could never enjoy. And yet, the same lot of us who profess to love justice and fairness; who take to message boards to issue our disdain for what we perceive to be miscarriages of the judicial process or affirm the long arm of the law, no matter how brutal, over the lives of everyday people whose minor offenses warrant their long incarcerations or worse, are at best, indifferent to our gods and their multiple DUI?s, assaults, rapes, and misbehaviors that cause the loss of life. It?s all good, so as long as they get to the coliseum on time and keep winning.
And win Floyd Mayweather has done. Love him or hate him only the most seriously deluded denies his pugilistic greatness. Dig deep into the treasure trove of ?the good ?ole days? if you dare, picking out names of greats of years past and Floyd Mayweather would stand among, if not above, the elite of any era. Equally significant, maybe even more so is his Barnumesque IQ for crafting his brand. His ability to turn every single fight into an event is unprecedented. The numbers speak for themselves. He commands the largest paychecks in sports and his PPV numbers and revenue set records. He is the sport of boxing until further notice.
However, to Koraun Mayweather, ?he is a coward.? These aren?t the words of one of Floyd?s many detractors. These are the words of his son, a son recounting to USA Today Sports the most traumatic night of his young life, the alleged attack on his mother, Josie Harris in 2010 by his father, Floyd Mayweather Jr. According to Harris this was one of six alleged attacks at the hands of Floyd Mayweather, father of three of her children. The latest attack would send the champ to prison for a 90-day sentence. Such allegations are not new, but are in fact well documented for those who have followed Mayweather?s career. Obviously, he denies the allegations, calling them just that, ?allegations? or his more famous rebuttal, ?where?s the pictures?? This despite, according to USA Today Sports, the Southern Hills Hospital & Medical Center in Las Vegas, NV said Harris did indeed suffer bruises to the face, scalp, and forearm, as well as a head injury. This despite a restraining order filed by Harris on September 14, 2010. It is one thing to question the accusations of an ex-lover or two. It is another thing entirely when one?s child corroborates every punch, push, hair pull, kick and scream. Such was the case for Ray Robinson Jr. who witnessed his mother?s alleged beatings at the hands of none other than the immortal Sugar Ray Robinson. Asked what kind of father he was, Jr. replied: ?Horrible.? Ironically, along with Robinson?s many accolades and feats he was awarded a Father of the Year honor in 1952.
How we love our idols? How protective we are of our gods? It is not my place to determine guilt or innocence, no matter how obvious, even overwhelming the evidence may be. In a just world, that would be the responsibility of courts of law that could ignore power and privilege. In a sports world which boast some of the most prolific and unabashed talking heads, one would think those same supposedly bold voices that pontificate about everything from stats to race relations would display the same gravitas in at least seriously addressing Mayweather?s alleged history of violence toward women. I suppose the good ?ole boys wish not to suffer the same fate of Ms. Rachel Nichols of CNN, whose program happened to be cancelled mere weeks after she dared to act like a journalist and confront his Moneyness about the allegations leading up to his second encounter with Marcos Maidana.
When all is said and done we are the cowards. We are the enablers, who by way of our unbridled need to be entertained feed the monster and validate the behavior of our gods ? good, bad, and ugly. Is talent that magical? Is one?s genius so extraordinary that they are absolved from all accountability? Do we have no expectations save for the ability of our gods to provide us great water cooler conversation? Are we some of the same people chanting, ?Hands Up,? ?I Can?t Breathe,? demanding accountability (and rightfully so) from officers of the law whose annual salaries barely add up to a night out at Fat Burger for The Money Team, yet, find nothing odd about the fact that we are likely supporting individuals whose wives, girlfriends, or children will have to call those same police officers to keep your favorite god from ending her life?
I believe in mercy. I believe in second chances. But, I also believe there must be repentance, even for gods ? particularly when the lives of others are affected by our actions. And no, I do not believe we can separate the person from the professional, so as long as the professional funds the person. Furthermore, the person will always take precedent over the professional. President Bill Clinton and heavyweight great Mike Tyson proved that. Yes, we all have flaws. Yes, many of us wrestle with some terrific demons. The backstory of many of those whom we cheer, including Floyd Mayweather Jr. is evidence of how remarkable many are to have come from where they?ve come from and achieve so much. However, that doesn?t excuse us from at least making the effort to raise the standard of what we will or will not accept.
Though the fan in me may rage, and rage it does, as I am a devoted fan of the sweet science and absolutely love its greatest practitioner, I have decided to set down my rose colored glasses, save my pay-per-view funds and retract my support of any and all things Mayweather, until further notice.
