(photo obtained from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/06/opinion/nfl-anthem-protest-ta-nehisi-coates.html)
There seems to be a good-as-unanimous consensus that football—and by extension, the National Football League (NFL)—serves as a fundamental, thoroughly red-white-and-blue emblem of American culture, along with grill-branded burgers, guns, and violently orange-colored cheddar cheese. A zoom into the sports world reveals that the NFL has dominated attendance, television ratings, merchandise, and revenue for years now compared to other American sports, and thus is comfortably situated on its very own throne. Further still, it is habitually regarded not only as an integral part of, but even as epitomizing the country—for better or for worse. Tara Isabella Burton, in a 2017 Vox article, called football “America’s religion.”
So when Super Bowl Sunday rolled around a few weeks ago on February 7th, the day finally came for the NFL to re-solidify itself, in the words of New York Times NFL reporter Ken Belson, as “America’s corporate do-gooder.” 91.63 million viewers flicked on their TVs and, just like that, the culmination of the NFL’s massive influence came to its annual booming head. While Super Bowl Sunday’s true essence certainly includes the actual game itself, it is hardly contained within it, and Super Bowl LV was no exception.
Before the game kicked off, R&B singer-songwriter H.E.R. sang a mesmerizing rendition of “America the Beautiful.” Country singer Eric Church and R&B sensation Jazmine Sullivan gave a powerful performance of the national anthem. Finally, National Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman—who skyrocketed to celebrity status after her recitation at President Biden’s inauguration—read a new original piece that honored three unsung heroes for their sacrifices during the pandemic, becoming the first-ever poet to perform at the Super Bowl. Finally, one-half of a football game later, Pop/R&B star The Weeknd put on a spellbinding halftime show, best described by a comment from YouTube user “N G”: “Kinda rude that there’s a football game in the middle of the Weeknd’s concert.” As The Weeknd basked in the glory of the song’s final chord, fireworks erupted, a trio of U.S. Air Force jets soared over the field, and masked fans waved official NFL signs whose white text reminded viewers that “IT TAKES ALL OF US.” Still, a lingering feeling of irony hung in the air.
The NFL was inconspicuously toting a theme of unity, which has become quite the trope amid the turbulent and divisive coronavirus era. Further, and more specifically, an element of racial justice was at play, most notably driven by the 6th Annual RISE Super Bowl Critical Convention. In the hour-long virtual event, RISE—a national nonprofit that works to, in their words, “champion social justice” in the sports community—aimed to bring students and athletes together to “promote racial equity and create change.” CBS Sports’ Lead NFL Reporter Tracy Wolfson moderated the conversation, which featured Kansas City Chiefs’ own All-Pros, Patrick Mahomes and Tyrann Mathieu, as well as Walter Payton Man of the Year Nominees Trey Flowers (Detroit Lions), Justin Simmons (Denver Broncos) and Andrew Whitworth (Los Angeles Rams). The conversation centered around the most effective ways to harness the increased momentum of the social justice movement and convert it into meaningful, long-lasting change, a topic the event summarized with the snappy catchphrase “What’s next?”
The NFL is evidently making some promises—the question is, are they actually fulfilling them? For one, the Super Bowl celebrated health care workers and teachers, yet the NFL held the event despite the ongoing pandemic—which, though the stadium was not at full capacity, directly and most obviously enabled the gathering itself, as well as indirectly encouraged hosts of Super Bowl parties to rage across the nation. Additionally, the NFL portrayed itself as a steadfast ally in the nitty-gritty fight for social justice—and yet, they played the Kansas City Chiefs’ made-up war cry as they entered the stadium, encouraging fans to “swing their arms in a ‘tomahawk chop,’” a blatant perpetration of racist stereotypes about indigenous people. Further still, while TV announcers spoke of the work both the league and the players have done to fight for racial justice, no one dared to utter the name “Colin Kaepernick,” let alone to acknowledge the league’s long, ugly history of racial discrimination. All in all, this year’s Super Bowl was an exercise in exorbitant irony.
This isn’t to say that institutions can’t change, nor that the public shouldn’t allow them to. However, as the Equal Justice Initiative says, “to overcome racial inequality, we must confront our history.” Very much by contrast, the NFL seems interested not in confronting their history but rather in hastily, performatively plastering band-aids over bullet holes. Further, while it’s tempting to welcome any apparent strides forward with open arms, it’s important to resist the urge to accept everything at face-value and re-examine these self-proclaimed “changes” with an eyebrow raised. Is the NFL truly oblivious to the sheer hypocrisy in appraising healthcare workers, teachers, and other essential workers while simultaneously actively contributing to spreading the same virus that made their lives a living hell—or are they not dumb but simply too money-hungry to do anything but pretend to care? Is the NFL truly committed to doing their part in the fight for social justice, or are they half-heartedly going through the motions merely to gain social capital—or worse, purposefully fixing issues only as they appear at the most surface level while ignoring the systems that create such issues in the first place, allowing them to continually feed into some abhorrent white-savior fetish?
As of 2020, 70 percent of NFL players are Black, and yet, head coaching positions come in at a mere 9.4%; professional staff at 8.8%; vice presidents at 7.1%; and General Managers at a mere 6.3%. NFL commissioner Roger Goodell himself admitted that the league overlooked Black/African-American coaches for head coaching positions, instead hiring yet another throng of white coaches; this only further corroborates NYT Sports reporter Kurt Streeter’s evaluation of the NFL as a league “known to prize Black speed and strength while diminishing Black intelligence and leadership.” Maybe, then, the NFL does epitomize an American institution—built upon and profiting of off the contributions, sacrifices, and livelihoods of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), yet only interested in standing up for their lives and human rights insofar as it’s easy, socially acceptable, and convenient—if they even bother to take a stand at all.