You could not make this up. Hell, Disney is an iconic multimedia conglomerate that has no rivals, as it pertains to crafting magical animated stories. But even with all their allure, Disney could not script this.
Michael Vick’s story was a potent cocktail, that blended the very things we shamelessly binge on in America— stardom, scandal, and strife. It’s also complete with incarceration, liquidation, and salvation. Nearly all of those elements can be found in a different story profiling a star athlete. And that one just won the Oscar for best documentary feature.
Stories of this ilk grip you and become etched in your memory. Michael Vick forced you to pay attention, whether you followed the game of football or not. His story still ignites astounding adulation and abhorrence. I understand both and won’t presume to tell you how to apply your sensibilities regarding Michael Vick. Instead, I’ll annotate one of the greatest stories in all of sports history.
Mike Vick was a real-life version of the alien quarterback you created in the Madden football video game. He parlayed a lethal fusion of paranormal speed with a rocket-launching left arm, into what culminated as The Michael Vick Experience.
Despite inconsistent numbers and unconventional play, the Atlanta Falcons were relevant with Vick at the helm. The team regularly sold out the Georgia Dome, as fans filed in on Sundays to see the most electrifying player in football. Vick’s number 7 jersey was among the NFL’s hottest sellers. He won sixty-five percent of his first 37 starts, on his way to becoming the league’s highest-paid player in 2004. The first African-American quarterback drafted number one overall, signed a $130 million contract, with a then-record $37 million in guarantees. Mike Vick demolished barriers at the league’s most prominent position and became the face of the NFL.
More importantly, Vick symbolized hope for a generation of young African-American players not old enough to remember peak Randall Cunningham. Players who began honing their dual-threat ability as “all-time quarterback” in pickup football games in the backyard or on asphalt streets in the community. Prep players who longed to play quarterback, but were scouted to play receiver or defensive back by power brokers in college football and beyond. Players like Cam Newton, Robert Griffin III, Tyrod Taylor, Deshaun Watson, and Lamar Jackson.
Mike Vick was their beacon on a gloomy path to play quarterback at the highest level, while being freakishly athletic. He also overcame humble beginnings in a tough childhood environment in Newport News, Virginia. Like Allen Iverson, who grew up minutes away in Hampton, Mike Vick played with an ‘around-the-way’ swagger. He didn’t conform to criticisms from purists. And those were primary sources of his reverence, as many African-Americans took pride in Vick’s blazing stardom.
Ten years ago this summer, Mike Vick’s life swiftly disintegrated in public, as an illegal dogfighting operation came to light. He was convicted for his role in the scathing scandal and served eighteen months in federal prison. Too harsh? Too lenient? It still depends on who you ask. The crime epitomized sacrilege in the eyes of dog lovers. But to those who see dogs merely as animals, the punishment didn’t fit the crime.
Enter the cultural strife.
We choose our side and vehemently fight the opposing side. In doing so, we tend to parse our own blunders, because anonymity is an advantage many of us have over star athletes. Comeback stories are generally welcomed, but we argued over Mike Vick’s worthiness of a second chance. Some believed (and may still believe) Vick deserved to pay for his crime with his life. Detractors protested his opportunity to make millions and be celebrated again. Supporters balked at the idea of further punishment, as they believed Vick’s celebrity and race led a federal judge to make an example of him. They rooted for his redemption because he had already paid a staggering price.
And despite not taking so much as a single practice rep for any team this past season, Michael Vick announced his retirement from the NFL on the eve of Super Bowl LI. The announcement itself was futile and benign, but the ensuing discourse was rich and familiar. I was reminded not even time could declaw those still ripe with vitriol.
I was saddened by that reminder because of what Michael Vick did with his second chance. He took accountability for his atrocious mistakes of the past. He accepted sharp criticisms without lashing out at those hurling them. He didn’t owe us apologies but he gave them anyway. He voluntarily educated himself on the cause and spoke out against what he grew up accepting as recreation.
We’re free to question the sincerity of Michael Vick’s corrective actions, but none of us can unequivocally refute it. He’s kept his name clean since his release from prison, while many teammates swore by his character. Not to mention, he completely resurrected his NFL career during a magical season with the Philadelphia Eagles in 2010. Michael Vick put on one of the greatest individual performances in history, led one of the greatest 4th quarter comebacks in history, and garnered MVP consideration that year.
Whether you fall on the side of adulation, abhorrence, or indifference for Michael Vick, forgiveness is one of our common necessities. His story exemplifies the significance of second chances. It’s a precise illustration of how success is never final and failure is never fatal. And while Vick may not be a role model you recognize, he is a role model nonetheless.
We have never seen an athlete go from incarceration to salvation the way Michael Vick did. And though he barely scratched the surface of his on-field potential, his off-field resilience produced one of the greatest stories in the history of sports.
