Patrick Hruby (writer, Sports on Earth and The Atlantic), Hampton Stevens (writer, ESPN and The Atlantic), and Jake Simpson (writer, The Atlantic) discuss the implications of the allegations against the Miami Dolphins' Richie Incognito.
Hruby: When I started my first newspaper job at the Washington Times, nobody duct-taped me to a curbside paper dispenser. When I later joined ESPN.com's Page 2, I did not have to treat established writers like Ralph Wiley and Bill Simmons to a $30,000 dinner. I've been at my current Sports on Earth gig for close to a year, and not once have my duties included fetching doughnuts and carrying other writers' laptops.
To the contrary, I was treated like an adult. So what makes the National Football League so different?
Start with this: Richie Incognito seems like an insufferable asshole. According to reports, the Miami Dolphins offensive lineman sent a series of vicious, threatening, racist, unhinged texts and voice messages to teammate Jonathan Martin. Incognito has been suspended indefinitely as the team and the NFL investigate the matter. The Miami Herald reports that "he's done ... he'll never play another game here." Public condemnation of the alleged bullying and harassment has been swift and widespread, with former NFL linebacker Bart Scott calling for Incognito to be kicked out of the league entirely.
Look, insufferable assholes can be found in pretty much every line of work. Politics, banking, Little League coaching. Professional football, however, uniquely enables them. Encourages them. Promotes the use of humiliation and intimidation in the service of group hierarchy. As the Incognito story broke, commentators and ex-players alike noted that Incognito's behavior "crossed a line" between unacceptable indignities, like menacing messages reading "you half nigger piece of shit," and acceptable indignities, like Miami rookies reportedly paying for team dinners and being given penis-shaped Mohawk haircuts by veterans, two practices that are hardly unique to the Dolphins.
Indeed, NFL locker rooms long have housed a culture of hazing, pranking, and name-calling. Rivers and eddies of disrespect, all flowing one way: Top to bottom, from veterans to rookies. Newcomers have to carry equipment, dress up in ridiculous outfits, buy food, and generally take crap in order to be fully accepted by the team and tribe. Why? Because that's the way things always have been done. Because, as The New York Times puts it, "most incidents come with the tacit, unsupervised approval of coaches and executives, who see the pranks as a rite of passage, a worthy bit of team-building and character-strengthening."
I'm not sure this makes sense. I don't see how being demeaned in ways big and small—via a silly, penis-shaped haircut or a string of nasty, vile texts—strengthens character or fosters team spirit. I don't get why a group of adults in a supposedly professional environment has a line to be crossed in the first place, why some indignities are seen as positive and necessary. I read about Incognito, and his transgressions over said line, and I can't help but wonder if NFL locker rooms are full of insecure boy-men who are desperately trying to establish their places in an unspoken pecking order, who have yet to learn the childhood lessons that the best way to earn respect is to give it, and that dignity shouldn't work on a sliding scale.
Hampton, Jake, am I missing something here? Is locker-room culture less childlike and immature than it appears? And why is the Incognito story resonating so much outside of the sports world?
Stevens: A few years ago, I interviewed Matt Birk, an NFL All-Pro lineman who went to Harvard. Birk, talking about the silliness of NFL locker rooms, described one ritual that perplexed me—players having contests to see who can drink the most milk without puking. Birk, for his part, was shocked that I'd never heard of such a thing, let alone never participated in one.
To me, that demonstrated just how far football culture is from everyday life. This was coming, after all, from a grown man with a family, who graduated with an economics degree from one of the world’s great universities. Yet he lived in a world most of us would consider alien and bizarrely puerile.
Why wouldn't he? Football is an incredibly bizarre way to make living.
The key difference here is between hazing and harassment. The latter is always unacceptable, of course. Hazing, though, serves a purpose because, at a very primal level, we care more about things when we suffer to get them. Despite the sniffing condescension of The New York Times, hazing in safe and limited doses can be a perfectly useful part of team-building. Pranks and weird rituals build team spirit, the locker room functioning as a sort of boot camp, where teammates demonstrate emotional toughness, earn trust, or simply learn how their teammates will react under pressure.