OPINION: For the People: A Little White Lie.

basketball

A new basketball league is being formed that will only be open to men “that are natural born United States citizens with both parents of Caucasian race”.  That’s right – basketball for white boys.  This was reported in the January 19th edition of the Augusta Chronicle, and picked up a day later by numerous outlets including Yahoo! Sports and the Huffington Post.  The story was met with audience responses that were shocked at the blatant racism and anachronistic attitude.

How could anyone living in 2010 truly believe that this would be acceptable?  It took only a few minutes of thought to answer my own question – no one.  No one living in 2010 would believe that an all-white sports league would be acceptable.

I think the whole thing is a lie.

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For the People: A Few Words on Redemption.

iverson

When I’m not trying to shame our elected officials and less-informed citizens into better behavior, I follow the NBA with great intensity.  I don’t care one bit for any other sport, and I pay no attention to any other league. I even write about the NBA for a website of my own when time permits.  I tend to think about the game of professional basketball the same way I think about a lot of things: in story lines.  I think about the legends and the undercurrent of sports mythology that shape conversations about the game. I consider the legacies of men that will endure beyond the short years they are strong enough to wear the uniform.  Coming into this season, my mind was most occupied with the story of Allen Iverson, a mercurial and talented guard who, in the twilight of his professional career, was looking for a home, a job, and a chance to contend.

Iverson spent the first decade of his career with the Philadelphia 76ers, and once carried the team all the way to the NBA Finals, but Philly was stopped by the Los Angeles Lakers and their superstar tandem of Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal.  During his time with the ‘Sixers, the ten-time All-Star was frequently lauded for his exceptional talent, and just as frequently criticized for his selfish attitude and off-court behavior.  Things ended badly for Iverson in Philadelphia.  After numerous incidents of clashing with management, he was asked not to show up for games, and shortly thereafter was traded to the Denver Nuggets.  In Denver, Iverson and the team both did well but fell short of championship aspirations.  Early into his third season as a Nugget, Denver accepted a trade from the Pistons that sent Iverson to Detroit.  The trade proved positive for the Denver Nuggets but less so for the Pistons, and ruinous for Allen Iverson.  Detroit’s team was poorly suited to accommodate the Iverson dynamic, to say nothing of the Iverson ego.  Because of his unwillingness to accept a secondary or diminished role on the court, the Pistons eventually asked the player to stay home rather than show up to work, making it the second time Allen Iverson was effectively fired from the NBA.

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A Changing Tide.

I used to have as the wallpaper on my computer this great picture of Coach Bear Bryant leading his team onto the field with an unfiltered cigarette in one hand and his rolled up roster sheets in the other. I finally replaced it with a current season photograph because I got tired of the frustration I felt every time someone looked over my shoulder and asked if “that old man” was my grandpa.

Growing up in a family that worships the Alabama Crimson Tide, I have revered Coach Bryant my whole life. When the people looking at my computer asked me that ridiculous question, I simply replied “yes”. I did so because it amused me, but also because few people will sit still long enough to hear my history lesson of the man, Coach Bryant, and his true legacy: the one where he, a loudly outspoken man, quietly helped to finally defeat one university’s tradition of athletic segregation in a program that was not quite ready for it.

Coach Bryant coached at the University of Alabama for 25 years (1958-1982). At that time, my Uncle, Sam Chalker, both an Alabama native and a Crimson Tide fan, lived in Birmingham. When I asked him what football at Alabama was like back then, he said, “At the time SEC football was a cultural thing. We were the South. We’d lost the Civil War, we were considered to be backwards, ignorant, racist rednecks by people in the Northeast and the West. Football was our point of pride. Football was our revenge for the Civil War. The general attitude at the time was ‘You may be smarter than us and maybe even have more money and class, but by God we can play football’”.

In the fall of 1970, the University had already been integrated for seven years (see the Stand in the Schoolhouse Door, courtesy of then Governer George Wallace.) Bryant and the Tide had long been playing integrated teams, and Bryant was well known for his insistence that his players treat ALL of the opposing team’s players, black or white, with class and integrity. It was equally well known that throughout the years that Bryant had been trying to figure out how to integrate his football teams at Alabama, he was met with constant, stiff resistance from Governor Wallace, who was in charge of the University’s (and thus the athletic program’s) funding. Where Coach Bryant was constantly frustrated by talented black football players being recruited out of his state to go North and West to play on integrated teams, Governor Wallace just saw their skin color.

All of that changed on September 12, 1970, when Coach John McKay and his integrated USC Trojans came to Legion Field in Birmingham to orchestrate perhaps one of the most lopsided defeats in Alabama history.

My Uncle Sam, who was in the stands that day, recalls the entire home crowd being absolutely stunned by a black USC running back named Sam “The Bam” Cunningham, who, as my Uncle puts it, “ran around us, over us, and through us, just like a turkey through the corn”. The Bam was joined on the field by another talented black running back, Birmingham native Clarence Davis. Cunningham, Davis and the rest of the Trojan’s offense left the ‘Bama fans both shocked and humiliated as they carved through the vaunted ‘Bama defense like “a hot knife through butter”. USC won that game that day with an easy 42-21 victory.

I realize that it’s a simplistic and romantic view of a complicated situation to propose that Sam Cunningham and his team’s victory was the reason that Alabama football was finally integrated. But, what few people know about that day is that there was already a black player on the Freshman team roster named Wilbur Jackson, who actually signed with the Tide in 1970 but couldn’t yet play varsity ball. Moreover it is worth noting that USC came to Birmingham that day on invitation from Coach Bryant himself. It has been part of the Coach’s mythos that he asked his friend McKay to come to Alabama and deliver a lesson in the form of a sure loss at the hands of an integrated team. From everything I have ever learned about the man, I do not believe this to be the case. Coach Bryant didn’t know how to be anything but a winner, and would never have gone into a game expecting to lose. I do believe, however, that he saw an opportunity in the loss to USC, and he took it and set about integrating his team. My Uncle called it “serendipity”. Several sports writers in the ensuing years have called it opportunism. I call it genius.

The very next year, when the Tide went out to California to play the rematch, Coach Bryant brought his first black starter, junior college transfer John Mitchell, along with Bama’s newly installed Wishbone Offense. The Tide won 17-10 in a major upset.

This year on Friday, September 11th, my fellow Alabama fans will have noted that it was Coach Bryant’s birthday. And in honor of his birthday, I’d like us to think about this:

While some may say that Coach Bryant’s legacy rests in rock solid numbers like 6 national titles, 13 SEC titles, and an overall record of 232-46-9, I believe that to be the less important part of it. The most enduring part of his legend is the fact that now, today, like Bryant back then, Bama fans don’t care if you’re black, white, brown, or orange with yellow polka dots; as long as you can play championship football, you’re our guy.

On opening weekend, when Bama’s star running back Mark Ingram was running ALL OVER Virginia Tech’s defense? Every Crimson Tide fan in the world was on his side and nobody cared about the color of his skin…

Thank you for listening and Roll Tide.

The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Shanna Hinton.

Shanna Hinton is a columnist for redbrownandblue.com and a lifelong Alabama Crimson Tide Fan striving to represent the ‘Bama fanbase in Texas.



I’m Caught in a Houston Football Love Triangle.

Houston Football

Rodriguez: In that home, we used to stare out the window at night and she taught me how to admire and appreciate the “Moon.”

I’m involved in a tragic love story. Let me tell you about it. Back in 1996, I was in love with this girl, but her daddy decided to snatch her away like a thief in the night and move to Nashville when I wouldn’t buy his daughter a new house. I waited for her to come back, but she never did. She traded Houston sky scrapers and DJ Screw for the beautiful Tennessee countryside and country music. From what I hear she’s done well out there. She’s come close to the big time, but fell a yard short.

I have such fond memories of her. Actually, my parents introduced me to her when we moved to the Sharpstown area of Houston from Edcouch-Elsa, Texas. I was just five years old when I came to H-Town in the early 80s. My parents, like many who migrated up the coast from South Texas, tried to find something – anything – to make this city feel like home. It was hard because it was so different from what we were used to. The diversity, the pace of life, the sheer size is enough to make any Valley native just bolt down U.S. 59 South back to the comfort and warm, humid blanket of simplicity. But my family didn’t. They didn’t cower. In fact, they embraced the city and we stayed.

And that’s when I met her and fell in love for the first time. Her name was Houston and she was of the Oiler family. Her signature was the color she wore. Oh, I remember how beautiful she looked in Columbia blue.

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