Tony Dungy: Liberty & Justice For Some

I've never been a big fan of the New York tabloid media critics. Always seemed rather senseless to me growing up. I didn't need Phil Mushnick to tell me that Mike Francesa was arrogant or Ralph Kiner was senile. Every time I catch an interesting headline from them these days and see what they have to say, I usually feel the need to shower afterward. Except this time. I caught a piece where Bob Raissman (who looks like he's trying to sell me tickets to a 1932 circus in the dust bowl) calling out Tony Dungy in response to a little quarrel Dungy's having with a local blowhard. Raissman points out:

Dungy has a history of passing judgment on others and criticizing their life-styles. In 2007, the then-Colts coach came out against same-sex marriage, supporting the Indiana Family Institute, which sought to make gay marriage illegal in the state.


Back then, in an interview with USA Today, Dungy claimed he wasn't "anti-anything." He said: "We're not trying to downgrade anyone else. But we're trying to promote the family - family values the Lord's way....I'm on the Lord's side."

Personally, I think marriage equality is the defining civil rights issue of our day. I also believe it's inevitable. Conversely, I believe in this novel concept that people can worship whatever or whoever they want equally. Whether it's a distorted and manipulated version of Jesus that apparently hates gays even though he spent his last three years in the company of men, or some prophet while you're chilaxin in a former Burlington Coat Factory in lower Manhattan. Seriously, worship whatever the hell you like, just don't shove it down my throat (and tone down the bumper stickers too while you're at it).

Having said all that, it's 2010. It's allegedly an age of not only accountability, but (often over the top) political correctness. A few years back, ESPN kicked Rush Limbaugh and his drug abusing fat ass to the curb for inappropriate comments about quote-un-quote-black quarterbacks. Conversely, NBC's decided to prominently feature Dungy, who had the remarkable skill to win one lone Super Bowl with arguably the greatest QB of all time in his prime, as a key analyst in their crowded NFL studio show.

Yes, I realize that this happened almost 3 full years ago. Yes, I realize the whole point of the article is Dungy's ridiculous complaints about a coach using naughty words. Yes, I realize that for reasons unbeknown to me, certain sects of Christianity do more to combat homosexuality than they do child molestation. But just because this slipped under the radar doesn't mean it should be swept under the rug.

What Dungy was arguing for in 2007 was a law to actually prohibit individual freedoms. And they were freedoms enjoyed by every other slice of the electorate. We're not talking about the right to indulge in crystal meth. We're not talking about the right to drink and drive. We're talking about a basic fundamental human right enjoyed by hundreds of millions Americans - that harms absolutely no one . But Tony Dungy's Lord says no.

And that's great. I'm glad Dungy has a direct line to his Lord and knows what side he's on. He may believe that he's doing the Lord's work but he's got to keep in mind, 60 years ago, people who fought tooth in nail believed that they were doing the Lord's work in an attempt to prevent Dungy's relatives from marrying white people.

For what it's worth, a decade ago, CBS knew enough to withdraw their NFL Coverage contract offer to another bigot hiding behind "The Lord" when he made equally offensive statements about gays and lesbians. 

I don't think Tony Dungy should lose his job. I didn't think Don Imus should have either. We're too quick to call for resignations these days. Freedom of Speech (and if you want to call bigotry "Freedom of Religion" fine) is not only meant for comfortable speech. It's up to the people to view who they want to view, listen to who they want to listen too. Plus, who the hell am I, just some clown with an opinion. I just don't think people really know the real Tony Dungy. They know how adherent he is to his faith, but maybe that's the bigger issue. Maybe we should focus less on what's being taught at a Madras in Indonesia and more on what's being preached in our own zip codes. 

The popular perception of Dungy is this wholesome, do-good, compassionate man and I believe in his heart that he is. He's mentored some of the NFL's problem children. He's counseled  prisoners and the downtrodden and that genuinely is good work and he's an example in that respect that you and I can learn from. But his views on equality and a truly More Perfect Union with Liberty and Justice for All is dropped pass in the end zone. It's not something we should elevate. It's not something worthy of celebration. And it's certainly not something we should consider compassionate.

Riddle Me This: Barack and Christlam

On the way to work this morning, for no reason whatsoever, I started to think about the countless questions that I have - many for some time now - that remain completely unanswered. At least in a satisfactory way. I remember as a youngling, when I found myself puzzled, I could do one of two things: ask somebody, or go to the library. 

Being raised in a Catholic home and having attended a Catholic grammar school, ask someone inevitably meant bracing for the response "Because that's the way God wants it". Looking it up usually meant referring to either my father's Encyclopedia collection (that, no lie, when listing the Presidents, had "John Fitzgerald Kennedy: 1961 -" and well, didn't refer to African-Americans in a way I'm comfortable repeating on the internet) or going to a slightly (not by much) more updated library. 

But the internet changed all that. Or, at least it was supposed to. Still, things remain that not even Google will answer. I'm not talking about the philosophical ("Why are we here?") or the conspiratorial ("Who killed Kennedy?"). Simple questions that nobody has taken the time to answer for me, despite my ranting, and what I believe to be sensible queries into the times we live in. 

So, in borrowing a phrase from my favorite villain on my favorite horrible TV show as a kid,  I ask you, The Internet.... 

Riddle Me This: How can the same people who decried Barack Obama's Christian Pastor Jeremiah Wright now say with a straight face that they believe Obama is a Mulsim? 

I'm serious. For years my wife's favorite gripe about BushCheneyCo was "their inability to hold an opposing thoughts". Well my dear, the right wing has finally taken "holding opposing thoughts" to the extreme.

They spent the better part of 2008 screaming about "Black Liberation Theology" that allegedly took place at these Christian churches in the inner city. Now, 33% of Republicans think that the President is a Muslim. 

I'm not stupid. I know these people treat Muslim as a derogatory slur that they're somehow - in ways that they're too feeble-minded to understand - allowed to say in public (as opposed to what you and I absolutely know they call him behind closed doors). It's part of the klan-sans-sheets nature of the Tea Party. But I would think that even these simpletons could think back to their outrage at Reverend Wright and realize "Hey? Didn't I kill this guy for baptizing his children in the fucking name of Christ Jesus in this man's church?" 

Obviously we're dealing with some low-dangling fruit here. The same folks don't believe he was born in the United States. And I get that there's some backlash because they may feel we disrespected their President who broke the whole world and all. But I don't ever recall anybody on the left ever saying "George Bush is a Genius" after years of saying the complete opposite. 

So "cowboy up" teabaggers. How can one man be simultaneously be a Muslim and a White-Hatin' Christian? 

At least one inquiring mind wants to know.

A Touch of Gray: The RFFL @ 10

An organization near and dear to me celebrates it's 10th birthday this Saturday. While it's hardly as important as the Red Cross, not nearly as influential as the Freemasons or as popular  as AARP, it's all three and then some to me. Happy First Decade to the Rimmers Fantasy Football League.

Sure, it may sound petty on the surface. Millions of Americans play fantasy sports every year, and millions more may belong to organizations or collectives that have a much greater and hopefully positive impact on humanity. What makes this any different? Or any better? Isn't it just an excuse for 10 guys to get together once a year, get blind drunk and communicate every Sunday morning? Well, the short answer would be: Absolutely.

But I'm normally not one for short answers, and this isn't any different.

The RFFL began 10 years ago at a cross-roads of my life of sorts. I was a full year out of college but maintained a link to the glory days as a handful of my friends remained there for one more year. For that brief period, I had the best of both worlds - a full time job and salary, with unfettered access to the carefree college lifestyle that I had grown to love so much. But like all great things, that was coming to an end.

Among other hobbies like beer pong, video games and the tossing of lunchmeat on the faces of unsuspecting, passed out individuals, fantasy football was one of the activities that my friends I partook in. Some of us had pre-college experience, some none, but all fell in love. The 1999 season was a special one for me. My team, The Whiskey Dicks (a name which I rather not get into at the moment) pulled off the upset of all upsets against the juggernaut Salty Dogs, thanks in part to an unnecessary 2 point conversion from Kerry Collins when the Giants were getting obliterated by Kurt Warner's Rams. The Dicks were champions, and I was hooked. And I wanted Kerry Collins as my QB for life.

Not long after that, I started tossing the idea of a "Keeper" league around (where you keep certain players each year). Reaction was lukewarm league-wide at first, but thanks to my brother Sean, my high school freshman lab partner Brian, and John, of my college roommates who dared to dream, we had an interested core, and we spent the summer drawing up guidelines and working the existing members of our league to the point where, by August 2000, we had 8 men around John's kitchen table in Suffern, New York on hand to hear Brian's stepfather Gary announce that Peyton Manning was the first ever player selected in the Rimmers Fantasy Football League. I had no idea what impact this moment would have on my life at the time.

After tinkering the next two seasons with expansion and replacements, for the 2002 season, we had a lineup of 10 men that hasn't changed. And that is precisely why I'm celebrating this birthday.

These 10 men, these 10 friends, this intoxicating band of brothers, finds a way every Second Saturday of August to blow off all obligations and make it up to my deck for the festivities. And therein lies the glory of what the RFFL really is. We're all north of thirty now (Not naming names, but one of us is north of fifty too). We used to hit up bars every weekend. We used to have an annual Christmas Party. We used to have a Halloween Party. We used to BBQ a couple times every summer. We used to hit up a bunch of Yankee games. We used to pack 3 or 4 hotel rooms for concerts all over the northeast. We don't really do any of that too often anymore.

And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

That Sacred Saturday is the one defined time out of the year to get together and catch up on these milestones, good and bad. Maybe it's a new car. Maybe it's a sick parent. Maybe a baby's first step. Maybe a job hanging on by a thread. From a selfish perspective, I spend the day with my 5 best friends from college, my brother, my brother-in-law, my friend of 20 years and the man who took us out for our 21st birthdays a long time ago (again, no details shared for the good of all). Who could ask for anything more?

Because it's more than just touchdowns and draft picks. Since that first draft, six of us have gotten married and seventh will this October. We've welcomed four children: Maya, Quinn, Ella and Dylan (And one grandson). We've welcomed nieces and nephews. We secured millions of dollars worth of sub-prime mortgages.

Our lives have shifted from happy hours to property taxes. From tailgates to college funds and we've all gone through it together. My brother in law moved to Jacksonville 5 years ago. He hasn't missed a draft since. That's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

On top of all of this, the Draft - the League - has given us enough memories to last a lifetime. Whether it's Brian's 10 year old step brother asking how to spell "Crusty Beuerline" back in 2000, Anthony Becht needing 1 point and failing on the last Monday Night of the 2004 season to get Mark's team into the playoffs for the first time, Gary walking his cooler down Teaneck Road at 2 in the morning, Sean attempting to eat 100 chicken McNuggets after he and Travis forgot to go to sleep at the 06 Draft, or the improbable anti-perfect season that John's Stoagies managed in 2004, an 0-13 season that we still can't comprehend  to this day, there's little doubt that our lives have been enriched by the league's existence. And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

Life gets in the way - there's no mistaking that. Maybe when we started we were naive or oblivious to what lied ahead as our twenties expired and the dawn of thirtyhood was on the horizon. Maybe we refused to believe it. Maybe we knew it all along. In the name of progress and maturity, we've grown up. We pay our bills. Lots of them. We're all better people for it. We boast three dedicated fathers and eight men who would jump into the pits of hell for their wives. But once a year, it's that Suffern Kitchen Table all over again. And that's why I'm celebrating this birthday.

It would be criminally negligent if I didn't thank the unsung hero of the draft in my selfish opinion: My wife. I find it hard to believe that she (our any or our wives) understands what we do, or why we do it, or what it means. But year after year, she helps me prepare for it, helps me get the house in order, and never rarely complains about the shape she finds me in the next day.

I raise a glass (or more likely, a plastic 16 oz red solo cup) and salute my 9 fellow league members: Gary Burmeister, our current champion  Eric Couillard, Sean Hanratty, Joaquim Johnson, Erik Peterson, Travis, Mark Sprengel Brian Thompson and Michael Woods. I salute you for the memories, the experience, and the many good years and decades ahead. We may have added a Touch of Gray, but we're Built To Last.