We love to label people, especially in a negative context. That guy is a stalker. This girl is a slut. Athlete X is a bad person. Such markers allow us to classify and identify people by abstract concepts when names just won't do.
For some, these labels are justifiable. But what happens when an athlete's actions seemingly counteract all preconceived notions of his personality, when he actively goes against the grain of perception?
Such is the case with Memphis Grizzlies power forward Zach Randolph.
For some reason, the general consensus among casual NBA fans is that Randolph is a bad guy. ESPN's Rick Reilly cautioned readers to never pick a team with Randolph on it, because he has an "extra punk chromosome." Granted, all humans are genetically endowed with two punk chromosomes, but possession of a third equates to a social deformity that eternally casts the athlete out of the public's favor. Being labeled a "punk" is the sporting world's equivalent of being deemed an Untouchable, at least from the media's standpoint. Having a bad attitude means people will actively root for you to fail.
The sweeping attitude toward the double?double machine from Elvis' old stomping grounds is one of negativity and disdain. And I can't, for the life of me, figure out why this is still the case.
As a Grizzlies fan, I'd like to assume that the reason is Memphis' recent surge against the San Antonio Spurs in first round of the playoffs. I'd like to think that people hate Zach Randolph for his unexpected 3?pointer that buried Tim Duncan and company in Game 3, giving the Grizzlies their first home playoff win in franchise history. I imagine a world in which Zach Randolph is hated because he's great.
But this sentiment followed Randolph to Memphis and will likely pervade him throughout the rest of his career. He's averaged a double?double in six of 10 seasons and just set a career?high in rebounds per game this season. What's more, he's rejuvenated a franchise constantly surrounded by relocation rumors. Only seven No. 8 seeds have gone up 2?1 on the No. 1 seed in NBA history, and the Grizzlies have done it on Randolph's back.
Say what you will about coach Lionel Hollins' questionable decisions down the regular?season stretch to sit his starters and essentially play for a first?round matchup with the undersized Spurs, but dates with the Lakers or Mavericks weren't exactly birthday parties either. Memphis is playing like it belongs with top?seeded San Antonio, that much is certain.
The uncertain question is whether Randolph will be lauded for his efforts with the Grizzlies, who are enjoying consecutive 40?win seasons for the first time since the days of Hubie Brown and Jerry West, or condemned for past transgressions, which include those more about association with the wrong people ?? he was implicated in a drug case and connected to a strip?club assault ?? than any direct wrongdoings. His record also includes times when he punched a teammate at practice, struck an opponent during a game and was charged with DUI (later reduced to reckless driving).
Unfortunately, we perpetuate the vicious cycle with statements like, "I would never want him on my team" or "Zach Randolph is too selfish to fit in." But for his two seasons in Memphis, he's proved the doubters wrong. He's a veteran leader on a unit filled with burgeoning stars like Rudy Gay, Marc Gasol and O.J. Mayo. He's easily one of the NBA's most dominant post players. Down one point with the game on the line, the ball goes into his oversized hands.
I've written much about the nature of forgiveness in sports, and how we think that just because Michael Vick killed dogs, he will forever be a terrible person. We conflate external actions with on?the?court success, even when they're unrelated. Whatever extra chromosome Randolph has, it's certainly made him a better player and, more importantly, a better teammate.
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