Trump may have unwittingly reincarnated a powerful force for social change

Bruce Maxwell

Oakland Athletics catcher Bruce Maxwell kneels during the national anthem before the start of a baseball game against the Texas Rangers Saturday, Sept. 23, 2017, in Oakland, Calif. Bruce Maxwell of the Oakland Athletics has become the first major league baseball player to kneel during the national anthem. (AP Photo/Eric Risberg)

(Eric Risberg)

President Donald Trump at the Luther Strange for Senate Rally at the Von Braun Center Propst Arena Friday evening Sept. 22, 2017 in Huntsville, Alabama. (Bob Gathany / bgathany@AL.com)

On my desk at home sits a framed photo the late Muhammad Ali. He signed it and gave it to me as a parting gift when I visited him at his home several years before he died. After penning his name, he drew a heart with lines emanating from it, as if it was beating.

During my years covering sports, I met and/or interviewed many of the sports icons who used their visibility to call attention to and/or fight the social injustices of their era--including Bill Russell, Jim Brown, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Tommie Smith and John Carlos.

They often acted to their own detriment, or at least at the risk of alienating their fans. But to each of them--and to the myriad athletes like them who also spoke against the injustices of their era--the price was minuscule relative to the reward of affecting positive change.

We all know now that on Friday evening in Alabama, at a rally where he was to speak in support of U.S. Senate runoff candidate Strange, the President of the United States spit on them all.

He did so with the most vulgar of phrases--a phrase no President should evoke in public. Not under almost any circumstances.

But especially not to describe Americans exercising their Constitutional right to free speech and peaceful protest.

But Donald Trump, with his typical air of smug arrogance, did just that, calling any NFL player who dared kneel or sit or raise a fist during the playing of the national anthem to protest the preponderance of social injustice and racism in our era, a "son of a bitch."

ICYMI, here's the full context of Trump's insipid banality:

"Wouldn't you love to see one of these NFL owners, when somebody disrespects our flag, to say, 'Get that son of a bitch off the field right now. Out! He's fired. He's fired!'? You know, some owner is going to do that. He's going to say, 'That guy that disrespects our flag, he's fired.' And that owner, they don't know it [but] they'll be the most popular person in this country."

What did he say?

Let that marinate for a moment. The man who is supposed to be the leader of our nation (Trump long ago lost any claim to being leader of the free world), the leader of all Americans, demeaned the mothers of American men simply doing what many Americans have done before: speak up for what they believe.

Last Monday, in yet another rambling, thread-less speech, this one at the United Nations, Trump referred to the most dangerous man on the planet, Kim Jong, a man threatening to wage nuclear war against other global citizens, as "Rocket Man."

But an American engaging in peaceful protest is a son of a bitch.

And of course, in August, he referred to the "very fine people on both sides" of the ugly (and deadly) events in Charlottesville that were sparked by the presence of swarms of white supremacists, many of whom said they were inspired and emboldened by Trump.

But a man resting on his knee during the national anthem is a son of a bitch.

President of all or campaigner to few?

I know he was speaking to his base, or, rather, the basest of them--and he was clearly lathered up by the frothy Trump supporters that filled Propst Arena in Huntsville.

And I know his sentiments are echoed by many angry white NFL fans who just lose their ever-lovin' minds when an athlete dares do anything except perform.

But when is Trump going to act like the President of all of us, rather than a pouty campaigner catering to a perpetually ticked-off audience? #rhetorical

I won't even dwell on the fact that the vast majority of the NFL players engaging in these protests (like 98.6%) are African-American, and there may be no more dangerous insult you can hurl at a black man than to demean his mom.

Reaction to Trump was swift and it came from all corners of the league hierarchy--from Commissioner Roger Goodell, who called Trump "divisive"; to Arizona head coach Bruce Arians, who called NFL players "some of the most reputable men I've ever met"; to San Francisco 49ers Jed York, who termed the President's remarks "callous and offensive" in an extensive tweet:

Of course, numerous players took to social media to levy their retorts. But perhaps the most thoughtful was a three-paragraph statement issued by Seattle Seahawks wide receiver Doug Baldwin, who said he was "not surprised by Trump's words.

"He has shown since the beginning," Baldwin wrote, in part, "his dehumanizing nature.

"This can be an opportunity to change the narrative of society and point to the president as poor example of what you can become if you remain close-minded, ignorant and uneducated."

He later said: "I do believe this will be a unifying moment for the sports world....For all the hate and negativity that has come from Trump's presidency, I am still hopeful for justice and love to win out."

As am I.

Here's the entire statement:

For now, know this:

Trump, after looking as if he was trying to drive a wedge between NFL players and pretty much everyone else, may have instead unleashed the kind of unyielding, collective force for change sports has not seen in decades.

The Ali Summit, a watershed

In maybe five decades, in fact, when America was still in the midst of the eye of the civil rights storm. In April 1967, some of sports' brightest luminaries, led by Brown, gathered in Ohio to grill the then-unpopular Muhammad Ali, who had just refused to be drafted into the Army because of his faith. They wanted to see, hear and evaluate for themselves the strength of his convictions.

Once persuaded, they supported him publicly and collectively.

Gathering of sports icons suporting Muhammad Ali in 1967

After the meeting, the men held a press conference which produced an image of sports unity and power that still stirs the hairs on the back of my neck.

The meeting later became known as the Ali Summit, and it was a watershed showcasing the potential impact of sports on our national consciousness.

Trump's tirade may have just been today's proverbial straw--coming a week after the White House said my journalistic colleague (and, yes, long-time friend) Jemele Hill of ESPN should be fired calling him a "white supremacist" in a tweet.

Compounding his thin-skinned petulance in Alabama, Trump angrily tweeted on Saturday morning that he was rescinding the White House invitation to the NBA champion Golden State Warriors because its star, Stephen Curry, a long-time Trump critic, said on Friday during Media Day that if it were up to him any discussion about going would be "a short conversation."

"By not going, hopefully, that will inspire some change in terms of what we tolerate in this country," he said.

LeBron slam

Trump's reaction prompted the tweet of the day, from the best NBA player on the planet. Lebron James called the president a "bum," adding: "Going to the White House was great honor until you showed up!"

Michigan head coach Jim Harbaugh said Trump should "check the constitution."

I don't know what's going to happen today at NFL Stadiums. Whether boycotting or not, many fans will undoubtedly watch to see if players make some sort of "unifying" action during the anthem.

Whether they take a knee against Trump.

In London, prior to a gae between Baltimore and Jacksonville, many members of the Ravens, joined by former Raven Ray Lewis, too a knee during the playing of the anthem.

Baltimore Ravens players, including former player Ray Lewis, second from right, kneel down during the playing of the U.S. national anthem before an NFL football game against the Jacksonville Jaguars at Wembley Stadium in London, Sunday Sept. 24, 2017. (AP Photo/Matt Dunham)

Another one professional athlete did so on Saturday. Oakland A's catcher (and son of an Army vet) Bruce Maxwell took a knee, with his hand over his heart, during the playing of the anthem at the Coliseum, becoming the first Major League Baseball player to emulate the protest launched last season by former NFL quarterback Colin Kaepernick.

Maxwell and Canha

Next to Maxwell, teammate Mark Canha rested a hand on the catcher's shoulder. "I felt like every fiber of my being was telling me that he needed a brother today," Canha later said.

Maxwell was supported by MLB, which issued a statement that read, in part: "We also respect that each of our players is an individual with his own background, perspectives, and opinions."

Time for actions, no more words

As for the NFL, there is no better time for Goodell to put some action behind his words. Recently, players Malcolm Jenkins, recently retired Anquan Bolden, Torrey Smith and Michael Bennett, sent a letter to him and NFL Operations executive Troy Vincent asking the league to support the players' ongoing activism in areas criminal justice reform and police/community relations engagement.

They also requested that November be utilized to bring awareness to those efforts in much the same vein the NFL's Breast Cancer Awareness Month does.

Goodell has said he has met with and engaged the players for weeks on this subject. Now, it is time for an announcement--on Sunday, or at halftime of Monday Night Football--outlining even a preliminary plan of action for the league to recognize and amplify the efforts of its players to affect positive change in America.

Following the Ali Summit 50 years ago, then Kansas City Chiefs running back Curtis McClinton said:

"We knew who we were. We knew what we had woven into our country, and we stood at the highest level of citizenship as men. You name the value, we took the brush and painted it. You raised the bar, we reached it. You defined excellence, we supersede it. As a matter of fact, we defined it."

Thanks to Trump, athletes nationwide--as well as their coaches, owners and league executives-- emphatically and definitively know who they are.

Now, just as their predecessors once did, they must wield it to spur the kind of social change and positivity Muhammad Ali may have had in mind when he drew that beating heart.

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