The Most Exciting, Motivational, Amazing, and Yet Still Depressing Night Is Upon Us (The NFL Draft)

I am an 80s baby… a Black man from the American South.. and all that entails. The realities of poverty, unemployment, crime, and insecurity were my double-Dutch ropes to hop through. And most of my formative years were spent searching for someone who found a way to escape that didn’t involve a penitentiary or a cemetery. But growing up, we heard a legend about “The One.”

Yes, the ONE… an older kid who made it to college on and athletic scholarship, then eventually went to the NBA. And even though I never met him, he was the type of person whose legend had grown bigger than the man. We knew him as “The Durham Bull” who had made a mockery of other kids on the basketball court while playing at the predominantly-Black Hillside High. He was averaging a double-double.. 28 points per game, 12 rebounds. And while we didn’t know the grim complexity of his story and the circumstances he had to overcome, we all recognized that to be a Brutha from Durham, North Carolina with even the smallest glimmer of hope for a bright future was dangerous and made you a target of the other crabs in the barrel who don’t have the same jumper or cross-over ability.

So when Rodney Rogers got drafted by the Denver Nuggets, some folks rushed only to count his pockets. Others of us had the realization…. SPORTS IS THE WAY OUT!!!

I was no exception.

My big cousin had been my hero growing up, but he wasn’t a hooper, he was a football player. Four years older than me, I heard the legend of him and another guy on his team who dared to be a Black Quarterback in the NFL at a time where only Doug Williams and Warren Moon were going to get that kind of recognition and Kordell Stewart was Pittsburgh’s “test case.” And yet, both my cousin and I were able to witness from afar his teammate get drafted to an expansion team in the NFL called the Jacksonville Jaguars and ultimately become a starting Black Quarterback in the NFL… David Garrard.

Welp… tonight it the first night of the NFL Draft. A lot of dreams are going to come true on that stage in Green Bay. Even I plan to have my phone on in case Roger Goodell wants to call me up (I still have eligibility). I usually celebrate harder than the draft picks due given my excitement and my understanding of the hurdles many of these young men had to overcome.

Hurdles that… for far too often… the NFL has EXPLOITED for ratings and white sympathy. It’s almost as if the NFL feels it owes an explanation to White America as to why they are paying millions of dollars to largely Black athletes to play ball. It’s not good enough that Ashton Jeanty is a BEAST at running back. Nope… the NFL is looking for the STORY….

Does he have a momma on crack?

Does he have a daddy that sold crack?

Is his uncle incarcerated?

Is his aunt hoeing her way to finance the family’s lifestyle and finally contemplating retirement from her pimp when this kid gets drafted?

Ah yes… the NFL loves a good rags to riches story. But think about it like this. People who play football assume the risk of injury. It’s practically inevitable when you are running full speed into another massive human being. But to these young men, it’s worth it. Because to be rich and not have to struggle with financial problems is 90% of the battle. It always has been.

For the rest of us left behind, we live vicariously through them. I don’t need to know the stories of homelessness and eating from the trash can. But I know I’m going to get it. The NFL is reliable in that way. Honestly, I’m just tuning in to clap, cheer, and see cats snatch phones out of their baby-momma’s hands when the pick comes in. I’m excited to see the happiness of the family. I’m excited to see who joins my Carolina Panthers squad. I even like hearing the fans boo who Roger Goodell walks on stage.

But I have to brace myself annually for the tropes… because I already know it’s coming.

Congrats in advance to all of the draftees and Keep Pounding!