Rashard Mendenhall found himself on the wrong end of America's patriotism this week, and it all started with Twitter. This tweet, specifically, after Osama bin Laden was killed: "What kind of person celebrates death? It's amazing how people can HATE a man they have never even heard speak. We've only heard one side..."
Rashard Mendenhall, Bin Laden, And The Idiots In Talk Show America
Rashard Mendenhall explained his Bin Laden Twitter outburst with a blog post on Wednesday, hoping to quiet the criticism of his patriotism. But what about the critics themselves?Plus: D-Wade and LeBron are inseparable, Woody Allen writes about sports, and live video of the worst acid trip ever. Talking Points is a daily series that looks at some of the best stories in sports (and elsewhere). You can read the archives here.
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Then there were others, and it went like this: “We’ll never know what really happened. I just have a hard time believing a plane could take a skyscraper down demolition style. I believe in God. I believe we’re ALL his children. And I believe HE is the ONE and ONLY judge. Those who judge others, will also be judged themselves. For those of you who said you want to see Bin Laden burn in hell and piss on his ashes, I ask how would God feel about your heart? There is not an ignorant bone in my body. I just encourage you to #think.”
Then there was his blog post today that boils down to this: “I am not in support of Bin Laden.” So yeah, you might say things escalated quickly here. From devil’s advocate to alleged devil worshiper.
It never stops being amazing how quickly something can turn into a talking point and get twisted into something unrecognizable. And this is coming from someone that writes a column called “Talking Points.” But for the record... I’m not mad at Mendenhall.
As cool as it was to see America united in celebration -- there’s no such thing as a bad USA chant -- it was also a little creepy when you thought about what we were celebrating. We were basically cheering at a funeral. Not everyone felt conflicted about it, but some did.
Does it make Rashard Mendenhall less American for being honest? I know at least five people that think 9/11 was a conspiracy, but that doesn’t mean we should go off and shred their passports. Or how about this: If there’s no room for Rashard Mendenhall, what’s the point of America?
This is where people say, “He’s free to say it, and we’re free to hate him for it!!!” Right.
But all that’s done is distort some pro athlete’s words and detract from the party. It may make for bigger TV ratings, but it doesn’t make you more American to question someone else’s understanding of America. Especially if that person has no bearing on our government.
That just wastes everyone’s time. It’s why I didn’t flip out at all the people who treated bin Laden’s death like some 2011 version of V-day, and it’s why we shouldn’t care that Mendenhall did.
Even if means tolerating stupid conspiracy theories (or tone deaf celebrations), in Talk Show America, nothing’s more patriotic than ignoring the idiots in the room and loving your country, anyway. Besides, if you’re willing to lighten up, some of the idiots can be AWESOME.
One More Thing About Talk Show America. Can you imagine if Osama had escaped?
Dwyane Wade And LeBron James Are Adorable. They're like twin brothers who are afraid to face life on their own. At least that's what the New York Times makes them sound like. If it seems like every interview you see with the Miami Heat has LeBron and Wade talking side-by-side, that's because they refuse to talk to the media separately. Cute, I guess? From the Times:
A question for Wade might be answered by James. A question for James might be answered by Wade. One might grin or snicker at a question aimed at the other. Sometimes they both pause at length, in unified silence.
"It’s just, we’re in it together," James explained Tuesday morning, as he sat a few inches to Wade’s right, at a table in the Heat’s interview room. He added: "No matter what goes on throughout the game, or we had our ups and downs throughout the season, we always stayed together. We come here, we’re the voice — you guys hear us more than anybody else on the team."
... “They can’t even do solo interviews? Seriously?” Then the best part:
They were asked if the joint interview was one more way to “have each other’s backs.” They paused for seven seconds, then muttered to each other briefly before James said: “Yeah, that was good. I like that. Whatever you said.”
Wade added, “I think you answered the question for us.”
And listen, I'm slowly accepting that the Miami Heat look like the favorites to win the Eastern Conference, and maybe the NBA Title. The Celtics are too old, the Bulls might be too young, and only the Lakers or Thunder would stand a real chance in the Finals.
But you will not get me to admit that the Wade/LeBron dynamic is cool, or anything less than completely bizarre. Maybe that’s endearing to some NBA fans, but I guess I’m just not there yet. It’s like watching Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton act like Simon and Garfunkel. Speaking of which...
LeBron As Album Art. Jon Bois works his magic with last night’s Rondo dunk.
So awesome. More albums here.
The Limits Of The NFL’s Disability Plan. Dave Duerson committed suicide earlier this year after struggling with football-related brain damage throughout his retirement from the NFL. Earlier this week, tests confirmed his brain conditions, and the suspected correlation to football. The New York Times looks at the implications for the future. At what point does this become an asbestos-type situation, where the corporation becomes liable for what happens to its employees? Probably never, but still.
Speaking Of NFL Bureaucrats... This Redskins PR guy sounds like a real go-getter.
Derrick Rose Is My Mom’s New Favorite Player. The 4:00-mark will melt your heart:
The One Where Woody Allen Writes About Sports. An article from 1977 where Woody Allen writes about his relationship with Earl Monroe. From the archives of Sport Magazine:
I immediately ranked him with Willie Mays and Sugar Ray Robinson as athletes who went beyond the level of sports and sport to the realm of sports as art. Seemingly awkward and yet breathtakingly graceful, with an unimpressive pysique, knobby knees, and the tiny ankles of a thoroughbred racehourse, Monroe in seasons would put on exhibiton after exhibition of simply magical shot-making.
... It’s pointless to describe Monre on the court. It’s been done a thousand times by good writers who try vainly to communicate in print the excitement with which he plays. They refer to his head fakes, shoulder fakes, spins, double pumps, stutter steps, hip shots, arms and legs flying in different directions at once, but these things in themselves do not sum up the ferocious rush he gives the audience. After all, there are players like Nate Archibald, Dave Bing, Walt Frazier, Julius Erving, Connie Hawkins, who have unusual grace, beauty, and excitement, and who also dip and twist and toss their bodies one way while their arms move another way as they hang in space.
In general, it’s a pretty cool time capsule to the ‘70s, but the craziest part was how much sincere reverence Woody Allen had for him. Back then, there was still that wall between superstars and their fans -- even with someone like Woody Allen, who’d actually met Monroe and sat courtside.
Today, that wall’s disappeared, mostly. Rather than appreciate the mystery of the best athletes in the world, we focus more on understanding them -- that’s why blogs exist to write about things like LeBron’s mom, or the time your favorite football player snubbed some interviewer. We think that gives us a window into these athletes’ souls, and maybe it does. It certainly adds a new layer to the way we understand sports.
But Woody, himself, got snubbed for this article, and instead of penning some angry screed about an arrogant athlete, it just enhanced the legend. Maybe that could still happen today, but I doubt it:
I thought about how Sport‘s editors had relayed Monroe’s enthusiasm about the prospect of our interview. I thought, too, that if I had missed an interview I’d be consumed with guilt. But that’s me and I’m not a guy who can ask for the ball when the team is down by a point, two seconds left on the clock, and, with two players hacking at my body and shielding my vision, score from the corner. If I miss that basket and lose the game for my team, I commit suicide. For Monroe, well, he’s as nonchalant about that tension-strung situation as he is about keeping appointments. That’s why I’d tense up and blow clutch shots, while Monroe’s seem to drop through the hoop like magic.
Finally, This Is Where I Went To College. And I just ... There are no words. I don’t understand why anyone thought this was a good idea, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more ashamed of my alma mater. It’s like they wanted to film the worst acid trip ever and put in on YouTube:
In fact, if there’s any silver lining to any of it, at least there’s a chance someone was on acid during all this, and was totally freaked out by the whole thing. Thinking of that makes me smile. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go listen to Kid Rock and enlist in the National Guard.
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