In 1996, Jesse Helms, the late Senator from North Carolina, was in a hotly contested race for his seat with Democratic rival Harvey Gantt.
Helms had beaten his opponent six years earlier. This race was much closer. As the race heated up and Helms’ notorious television ads become more acerbic, Gantt needed to swing the tide. His campaign again turned to Michael Jordan.
The Chicago Bulls’ superstar guard was beloved by millions and sat atop an endorsement empire that included his own shoe line with Nike. Corporate America and sports fans alike had lionized the iconic basketball player from Wilmington, N.C.
Yet, Jordan was not to be persuaded. He is rumored to have turned down Gantt’s overtures during both races, once with a now infamous retort: Republicans buy sneakers, too.
That November, Helms coasted to victory. Gantt again failed to become the first black Senator from the South since Reconstruction.
The potential impact of Jordan’s endorsement is simply conjecture. But there is no doubt that Jordan’s purported comments allude to a culture of silence embraced by athletes at all levels. History has shown that on societal issues, an athlete is less likely to take a stand.
Cal is no exception. On a campus known for activist spirit, athletes faced a similar conundrum. Afforded levels of celebrity and clout, Cal’s world-class athletes are in a perfect position to make positive social change. Yet many may be muzzled by the weight of performance expectations. Nonetheless, as the years have passed, athletes on the Cal campus have become more vocal on issues from cancer research to educational opportunities. Activism is on the rise, but to what extent?
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Activism is a difficult concept to define. Any activity to create change in one’s society can be considered activism. It may include all form of social outreach or statements — protesting war, fundraising for non-profits or boycotting sweatshop-produced goods. Activism can also be as pedestrian as volunteering at a soup kitchen or partaking in a blood drive once a year. But issues of politics and culture may be deemed too controversial and out of an athletes realm of expertise
To endorse a political candidate or partake in any other form of activism on an athlete’s part is considered “non-normative” by academics researching the subject.
“It’s not typical for athletes to take a stand on political issues,” says Dr. Peter Kaufman of SUNY New Paltz, a sociologist who has studied athlete behavior. “There have certainly been some cases over the years, but generally, athletes keep a low profile when it comes to political and social issues particularly when you compare them to others like entertainers.”
Kaufman cites numerous cases in which athletes are faced with ridicule for taking stands. Toni Smith, a basketball player from Manhattanville College, suffered such a fate in 2003. Smith was ridiculed in the national media and on her own campus for turning her back on the American flag before an away game to protest the U.S. war in Iraq. Kaufman has even documented athletes being banned from participating in their respective sport for speaking out on issues like war or racism.
Other critics go further.
Dave Meggysey, a former linebacker for the NFL’s St. Louis (now Arizona) Cardinals, taught a course at Stanford called “Sports Consciousness and Social Change.” He believes team athletics is an inherently conservative, hierarchical system. Silence, then, is a virtue.
“Sport is pretty much a top-down structure. It’s a culture of obedience to authority,” Meggysey says.
Athletes face daunting barriers between normative sports behavior and being full-fledged active citizens. Yet these theoretical barriers to activism are not impervious.
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At 8:11 a.m., Scott Fujita was already late. Briskly jogging through Sproul Plaza, Fujita —a senior linebacker at Cal in 2001 — was loath to miss the start of class. Weaving in and out among his fellow students, he had only minutes to get from morning lifting at Memorial Stadium to his class in Dwinelle.
“You’re rushing by some of these protests and different forms of activism and you see a banner and you’re like ‘oh my god, that doesn’t sound good, what the hell are they even talking about?’” says Fujita. “(It’s confusing), because you don’t really have the time to research it and find out what they are really talking about. You are so insulated from all these other issues going on.”
Time is a precious commodity for college athletes. Faced with both athletic obligations and rigorous academics, many don’t find time to involve themselves in social activism.
Fujita, a nine-year NFL veteran who now plays for the Cleveland Browns, believes that many athletes at Cal are hampered by this requirement. Fujita was the New Orleans Saints’ Man of the Year in 2009 for his charitable activities, which include wetland restoration in post-Katrina Louisiana and adoption awareness work.
Yet, time is only half of the equation.
“The big reason as to why student-athletes aren’t as vocal or as active in pursuing social justice is just because they’re not aware of things,” says former Cal water polo goalie Michael Okinczyc, who cites the insulating nature of 20-hour practice weeks and full-time class schedules. “It’s not exposed to us as often and I think it needs to be.”
Despite these constraints, Cal has become a hotbed for student-athlete activism. Set adrift by a career-ending injury in 2009, Okinczyc turned to his other passion: education. Okinczyc was a two-semester president for Sage Mentorship Project, an organization that works with local middle school students. That spring, Okinczyc founded the Golden Cubs, a non-profit that promotes academic achievement with tickets to athletic events along with tours of campus.
He is not alone.
Last year, water polo’s Bryan Schnugg raised money for Haiti with Barefoot for Bare Feet after the 7.0 magnitude earthquake decimated the Caribbean nation. During the season the entire women’s basketball team volunteered at a soup kitchen once a week. In September, all 29 teams participated in the second annual Jog for Jill, raising over $300,000 dollars for the Bonnie J. Addario Lung Cancer Foundation.
“We’re aware of the negative stereotypes that are placed on our student-athletes, but I can definitely assure you that our student-athletes think for themselves more than any athletes across the country,” Allie Rowe, Cal’s director of student-athlete affairs, says. “At Berkeley you are taught to be critical thinkers and to challenge the process. Our student-athletes do what they want to do. Beyond academics, beyond athletics, we have whole individuals here.”
Cal’s alumni echo the sentiment.
“I would argue that Berkeley athletes are probably more active than they are on other college campuses,” says Fujita. “But [they’re] still not even close to the rest of the student body in Berkeley and that’s unfortunate, because Berkeley is such a wonderful ecosystem where ideas are nourished.”
Okinczyc shares Fujita’s qualified optimism.
“There is a lot more to do,” Okinczyc says. “The way that the community rallies around its sports teams, I think that is a tremendous opportunity for (athletes) to connect even closer to the community. We should always be preaching that we should be giving back to others.”
In conversation with those close to the program, it is clear that the issues on which athletes are most vocal are mainly confined to uncontroversial issues like philanthropy. Rowe admits that she is unaware of athletes outspoken on LGBT rights, for example.
Society expects a lot from college athletes. Tasked with not only succeeding at a top-notch institution of higher learning, we expect them to produce results in their respective athletic arenas as well.
Still, academics like Kaufman and Brown University’s Eli Wolff argue that activism and athletics can be symbiotic. Sports, by their nature, build social consciousness, a commitment to meritocracy, responsible citizenship amongst its participants and interdependency between peers.
“Social change is happening all the time and I feel like you can either be the one who’s causing it or it’s going to be done to you,” Kaufman says. “I’d rather have some sense of agency in how social change is playing out in society instead of sitting on the sidelines.”
Athletic departments like Berkeley’s have committed themselves to fostering it while more and more student-athletes are finding their voice. Yet, for every Bryan Schnugg in the world, another athlete chooses not to take action.
Athletic culture is still permeated by silence; question is, for how much longer?
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