The Terrible Way We Talk About Domestic Violence in Sports.
‘If you’re really, really good at something that can make other people a shit-ton of money, nothing else matters.’ — Anonymous, Asshole.
Sports world, we have a problem. And it’s a rather significant one.
No we’re not talking about Zaza’s failed All-Star bid, or the travesty that is where your team landed in this week’s power rankings. No, it’s a topic that apparently isn’t serious enough to warrant as much coverage as the other two.
Of course, we’re talking about the way we discuss domestic violence in sports.
The issue itself started to gain prominence a few years back, when Ray Rice viscerally slammed it into our collective sports-loving psyche. And while leagues have been slow and shamefully inadequate in their responses, we’ve collectively been just as much at fault in the way these athletes are covered and talked about.
This isn’t about not giving people second chances, or believing in the power of rehabilitation. Athletes — like anyone else — should have the opportunity to earn a second chance. But the speed in which coverage of these criminals changes from ‘violent offender’ to ‘oooooh look how fast they can throw a baseball’ is incomprehensible.
The news story for every contract they sign, highlight reel they produce, or appearance on Dancing With the Stars should begin with the words ‘Noted Domestic Abuser’.
Too harsh? Think about it for a minute. In our current system, all it takes for us to wipe the slate clean for past domestic assaults is a four-second clip of superhuman physical performance. The math doesn’t add up.
Language is a powerful device, and minimizing these abuses in coverage perpetuates the idea that these actions are somehow acceptable. It’s created a culture where people who should know better literally trip over one another to come up with bullshit new ways to vaguely describe ‘the situation around these events’.
Take for example the laughable hoops that commentators, analysts, GMs, and owners jump through to avoid addressing the issue head on. They bandy about phrases like ‘mistakes’ ‘transgressions’ ‘wrongdoings’ or ‘past indiscretions’ as if the player in question smoked a j and casually walked half-naked into a Denny’s.
What these actions are in reality are violent, despicable, cowardly abuses that would land normal people in jail, where they’d likely face the wrath of their fellow incarcerates. Adults need to talk about these issues like adults, because they’re adult issues. Don’t agree? Let’s put a few of these phrases side-by-side with their respective crimes, and see how well they address how the athlete behaved:
‘Choked and threw his ex-girlfriend’ morphs into ‘good person who made a huge mistake.’ — on Jose Reyes.
‘Fired eight gun shots near the mother of his children’ somehow becomes ‘some serious issues’. — on Aroldis Chapman.
‘Punched his pregnant girlfriend in the stomach’ amounts to ‘put himself in a bad situation’. — on Tyreek Hill.
That’s a whole-lot-of fucked up.
Now, looking into our Grandstand crystal ball, the most common comment section complaint will probably go something like this. ‘X athlete did their time, and served their suspension. The league moved on, so should the people that cover it’. Let’s take a closer look at that argument.
First, the league angle.
While a league is motivated to protect its credibility and public appearance, it’s also motivated to exploit its best players to make boatloads of money for the league. So their ability to dole out punishments that appropriately fit the crimes are suspect at best.
Next, the ‘served their time’ portion.
Forcing a multi-millionaire to miss 8 games of a sport does not amount to, by any definition, someone ‘doing their time’. While suspended, a player’s day likely consists of them waking up bright and early at 1pm, in their very very expensive house, to casually work-out(maybe), watch highlights from the night before(less likely), and go off and do other rich people things. Pretty underwhelming relative to the lifelong ramifications of being an abuse victim.
So the next time you read or write about Aroldis Chapman, or Jose Reyes, or Tyreek Hill or Matt Barnes or Josh Brown or Darren Collison, think about them as ‘Domestic Abuser Tyreek Hill’, or ‘Violent Assaulter Aroldis Chapman’ or ‘Scum of the Earth Josh Brown’. It’s a small change, but an important one.
Yes, it’s uncomfortable to constantly confront, and will probably leave you feeling unsettled, queasy, and maybe even a little upset. Which it should. Because it definitely pales in comparison to the discomfort, fear, and anxiety felt by the individuals who have to live with being on the wrong side of that abuse, each and every day of their lives.
