For Black Male Athletes, No Fear = Huge Stigma

Several months ago, I ran a post about the Golden Saints, a youth league church football team in Newport News. It was a story about the team looking for a home field, something that all of the other teams in their Hampton Roads league had. Last night, Chaplain Deborah Mitchell of the World Outreach Center (the Knights sponsor) reported to me that the city of Newport News has given the team a field at Lee Hall Elementary to call their own! On top of this, IHOP (ihop.com) has volunteered to pay for the cost of installing lights at the field so the team can practice and play at night.

Today, I wish to turn to a more serious subject, that of false bravado....

At the beginning of March, I had the opportunity to cover the AAA state track meet for the Daily Press. During the course of the day, I encountered several other reporters, but spent most of the day seated next to Carl Little, who covers high school sports for the Washington Post. I was not aware of this information until the end of the meet, when we happened to be conversing with the same athlete. Actually, all I knew was his first name. But, as a lifelong reader of the Post, I told him that there would probably be an embarrassing moment when I returned home, because a cursory search of "Carl" and "Washington Post High School Sports" would make me realize exactly who he was.

After a poor game four years ago,
then Titans QB Vince Young
grabbed a gun and disappeared
in his car. For hours, his whereabouts
were unknown.

To no surprise, once I looked up All-Met sports (the Post’s online high school outlet) and matched the surname, I remembered that there was a reason why Little’s name stuck out in my mind. A deeper search helped me to understand why.
In 2008, Little authored a piece entitled “The Pain Beneath the Swagger,” for a website called The Root, which is found at http://www.theroot.com. As it turned out, I had recalled reading this article.

The first line reads:

“Black male bravado allows no room for a mental health crisis. What a sad and dangerous thing.”

Little’s piece goes on to tell the story of Vince Young. At the time, Young was a highly touted quarterback from Texas who was in the early stages of his career with the Tennessee Titans. While showing flashes of brilliance, the former Heisman Trophy winner was considered a disappointment, despite leading the Titans to a 17-11 record in the games Young started over his first two seasons. On September 7, 2008, Young was mightily booed in a winning effort. A sprained left knee simply added injury to insult.

The following day, Young told a psychiatrist that he wanted to quit football. He also shared thoughts of suicide. Later, Young grabbed a gun, exited his home unannounced and took off in his car. For over four hours the whereabouts of the 25-year-old were unknown. Eventually, he was found unharmed.

The huge response to the story forced a press conference from Young just three days later. While multitudes of sports media jocks and self-proclaimed “experts” had bandied about with their theories of Young’s condition, the quarterback was going to be allowed the opportunity to settle the record.

“I was never depressed,” proclaimed a self-assured Young.

What??

In a nutshell, Young was obeying the man law which was described by Little with the following four words – Black boys don’t cry.

After citing other examples of African-American athletes suffering from episodes of depression, Little brings home his point, and it is a valid one. His words speak much better than mine, so to quote:

“While there is much to appreciate about black masculinity, there are some insidious aspects to playing the part. For instance, many believe that we have to struggle alone with our demons and that asking for help makes us appear weak. That kind of individualism is a façade, and we do ourselves no good when we hold back the tears.”

Well put Carl. It was nice to meet you.