I have only ever cared about football enough to be able to chat about it in the checkout line, to make a quip about my hometown Browns’ existential suckery and Johnny Manziel’s antics — the Ravens got so close, they’ll get ‘em next year, thank you, have a nice day. But my interest in football skyrocketed when I viewed a video containing the possibly most public piece of performance art since Pussy Riot pussy-rioted in Russia.
The press conference was on the NFL’s media day for the Superbowl. Marshawn Lynch, who has been fined $50,000 in the past for not speaking to the media, showed up and answered every question — while holding a bag of Skittles. “I’m here so I won’t get fined.” (Ever the friendly insurrectionary, Lynch occasionally added a playful “boss” at the end of his response.) After a little under five minutes, Lynch scooped up his artfully product-placed Skittles and calmly left.
I interpreted Lynch’s decision to stick to that one phrase as both a tribute to truth and a giant middle finger to the NFL. Lynch could have sat down, humbled by his fines — which that Skittles bag has undoubtedly already paid for — and spouted “all we can do is our best,” “we’ve really come together as a team,” “we’re just focusing on one game at a time” or “all we have to do is execute the plays.” But instead, he chose brutal honesty. He informed the press at the beginning that he was here not to get fined and that was his truth.
We, as the viewing public, are not entitled to a public figure’s opinion. Marshawn Lynch has no obligation to reveal his thoughts to reporters. He does have an obligation to show up and speak to the press, which he fulfilled. He has an obligation to pay his fines. He does not have an obligation to be fined into submission to the NFL.
Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable speaking to the press. Maybe he has anxiety. Maybe he would rather spend his time playing League of Legends. Who cares. He does not owe us an explanation and we are not owed his thoughts. Football players — the ultimate manifestation of American masculinity — are revered public figures, even though they are employed in the private sector. Therefore, we are deeply engaged in the lives of these cultural heroes and feel that we have a stake in their actions and thoughts. Lynch, as a person on whom the label “hero” has been thrust, rejected our ownership of public figures and showed us that we are not entitled to hear him speak, turning a routine press conference on its head and turning it into a brilliant and defiant demonstration.
Of course, not everyone feels that way. Many a thinkpiece has been penned about the “disrespect” — which is not apparent to me — that Lynch displayed to the NFL, the press and the public. Unfortunately, most of these pieces have an uncomfortable racial element. Jason Keidel, a reporter for CBS New York, thought that it was relevant to investigate Lynch’s personal life and childhood to find an explanation for Lynch’s behavior, somehow finding it unnecessary to light his keyboard on fire after he typed out the phrase “someone who left the ‘hood, but the ‘hood never left him” in regards to Lynch’s public image. Keidel also wrote in a misguided attempt to address racism: “A certain ignorant segment of America is already quick to brand black athletes as blunt-puffing, gun-wielding thugs who spend their millions on ice and vice and strippers... and since Lynch is not that guy, he should make more of an effort to clean his stained reputation, using the largest stage in the world — the Super Bowl.” No. Lynch has no responsibility to fix the racist image of black athletes that “a certain ignorant segment of America” holds. To put the onus of changing racist attitudes on a football player is ridiculous. Lynch can choose whether or not to speak about racism or attempt to change racist views, but he should not be criticized for failing to do so. Saying that racist people will see Lynch as a caricature not because of their racism, but because Lynch calmly told the truth at a press conference effectively takes the blame and places it squarely on Lynch’s shoulders.
I don’t know if Marshawn Lynch intended to subvert the NFL and the public’s expectations of him or intended to spark conversations about racism. Probably not — but it’s more fun to think that he did. Maybe that press conference was supposed to be a piece of performance art, maybe it wasn’t — again, most likely not, but I’ll choose to think otherwise. Maybe it was all a publicity stunt for Skittles. Either way, when Marshawn Lynch sat down and began to speak, I saw excitement rather than tedium, truth rather than clichés and subversion rather than conformity. If more football players do the same — and maybe even dabble in some performance art — I might actually start caring about the games.
