I’m a little embarrassed to admit how much time I spend watching NFL performances: about two hours per year. I’m sure the Super Bowl actually lasts longer than that; but life is short and I’ve only got so much time to give. So I’ll donate approximately half my annual allotment to comment on the current foot-ball foofaraw.
The conflict owes its genesis to former ball-tossing mediocrity, Colin Kaepernick. Reportedly, Mr. Kaepernick was the fruit of a fleeting union between a 19 year-old white girl and her black boyfriend, who customarily disavowed the relationship upon learning of her pregnancy. The girl subsequently put the child up for adoption, where it was claimed off waivers by a white family who apparently provided a loving and stable household. So to summarize: the black father of a mulatto boy abandoned him in utero, while an unrelated white family stepped in to raise him with care and attentiveness. So predictably his allegiance is exclusively to blacks.
At any rate, his disdain for the ineffectually racist society that had elevated him into a lifestyle of wealth and fame inconceivable to 99% of its members, became a weight he could no longer bear in private. So he cultivated a roof-height afro to establish his aesthetic bonafides, and began kneeling in protest at the national anthem.
Unfortunately for Kaepernick, his talent proved insufficient to buoy his convictions, and he soon enough found himself not worth the hassle. Though in his absence, equally oppressed millionaire imitators began to take up the protest. Eventually (and inevitably) this drew the wandering eye of Trump, whose subsequent criticism has impelled even more well-paid expressions of black contempt for the trappings of traditional American society.
If there is any surprise here, it is only in that it has taken so long to occur. Blacks broadly do not like whites, and care even less for their history and its symbols. From their perspective, the American flag and anthem are representative of them not us. This intractable tribal division is a state of affairs the dissident right has been patiently trying to explain for decades. Though apparently it requires low IQ black prima donnas to articulate the concept effectively.
Unfortunately mainstream bouncy-ball fandom is little inclined to absorb the lesson, and so finds itself perpetually disappointed by black expressions of separation and hostility. It is as if by supine fan-worship whites can extinguish the hatred their heroes hold for them. It’s an unlikely hypothesis, and one historical evidence continues to accumulate against.
Of course stadium monkeys hold no monopoly on Sunday afternoon stupidity. The players themselves are even dumber. It simply does not occur how tenuous their own position is in this culture conflict. Their lavish livelihoods are premised entirely on the public’s continuing appetite for the same choreographed routines. It’s remarkable when you consider the huge industry that has blossomed around watching a skirmish line of armored mutants repeatedly crashing into each other for hours every Sunday. If we weren’t so inured it would seem surreal.
Though these same commercial skirmishers indicate no awareness at all of how little those modestly compensated accountants, electricians, and plumbers in the stands actually require their services. Or, additionally, what salaries foot-ball players in less racist countries command–Cameroon, for instance. Thus players this afternoon will offer pious expressions of solidarity against the very people upon whose patronage they are utterly reliant. What they won’t offer are protests against their million-dollar paychecks. I guess there’s just some aspects of racist society a man learns to live with.
But why should racist society live with them? That’s the question most minds don’t spend sufficient time contemplating. Despite what some think, fans don’t actually cheer for specific mercenaries. They cheer for a colored jersey. Whoever occupies it is their team. The next season it will be someone else. I once remarked to a friend that if all the players in blue exchanged colors at halftime with the players in red, he would spend the next hour screaming for the same performers he had just been cursing. He disgustedly told me I’d just ruined the game for him. I told you I was his friend.
The point is that sports fan loyalty is extraordinarily elastic. And thus the cheers would rain just as hard for players wearing “Baltimore Ravens” jerseys if they were Mexican migrants being paid $7.50/hour on game days. This being an income level to which Colin Kapaernick may soon find himself adjusting.
Now obviously the NFL syndicate has its own perspective on the matter. Like practically all big business, it has gone all-in for the left in America’s culture wars. As a result, you see no public criticism of its anti-American employees. Certainly not to the extent you would if they did something truly intolerable: like a touchdown dance, for instance. But the league is in as precarious a position as its players. Owners feel equal antipathy for the NFL’s conservative white consumers, while very much still coveting their money. So they must extract revenues from a customer base they would prefer didn’t exist. From climate-controlled box seats, to the sideline, to the offices at ESPN, there’s a uniform philosophy of Just pay me and go away. I personally don’t care for either condition of that deal.
Hopefully NFL fans will eventually feel the same. None of whom actually need the mental novocain of professional sportsball. What they do need is an order of crispy fries. And whether Colin Kaepernick cooks those while kneeling is something we can look forward to taking up with the store manager.