Oh, how we love our NFL scandals. Spygate. Sex boat. And now, bounties.
One, if true, was a blatant instance of cheating. Easy. The second, a pleasure cruise in 2005 with prostitutes imported from Atlanta and Florida. The third? Explicitly illegal in the NFL, sure, but straddling the line between "acceptable in the name of the game" and "morally outraging."
After all, this is the NFL, a league that seems to pick and choose qualms according to its preset agenda, a league that regularly dishes out fines under the guise of "player protection" but explores an 18−game season that would surely wreck its employees in the long run. So what can we draw out of the New Orleans Saints bounty scandal?
On Friday, the NFL said an investigation by its security department discovered that longtime defensive coordinator Gregg Williams employed an illegal bounty system, which rewarded players for plays, especially those that knocked opposing offensive players out of the game. A similar system was reported to have existed in Washington, when five former Redskins told The Washington Post that Williams did the same thing in the nation's capital.
Targeting players, it seems, is a part of the game, as integral as Hail Marys and Gatorade baths. No one makes it explicit like a formalized bounty, but isn't it undeniable that, in a sport predicated on bone−crushing hits, executing such shots on opposing stars is constantly on defensive players' minds? Even so, does that make it any less excusable for Williams to offer up thousands of dollars, making him a proverbial mob boss hidden behind a headset?
This week, ESPN.com's John Clayton wrote that bounties are far worse than the New England Patriots' infamous Spygate case in 2007. He predicted that punishment will exceed the $750,000 fine and loss of a first−round draft pick levied against the Patriots in '07. He wrote, "Football is a sport that's violent enough. Having an incentive to hurt players can't be accepted."
The word "incentive" intrigues me here. Clayton's syntax implies that it's the "incentive" which cannot be accepted, not the actual practice of hurting players. Players get hurt all the time, so how can we determine intentionality? Unless there's monetary incentive, it will all get chalked up to "competitive edge," "intensity" or the clichéd like.
There's seemingly no defense for offering up thousands to harm others, but players are trying. Matt Bowen, a former Redskin under Williams, wrote a column in The Chicago Tribune on Friday, saying, "You do what [Williams] wants: play tough, push the envelope and carry a swagger that every opponent sees on tape." But when that envelope is stuffed with Benjamins, it gets pushed too far.
Defensive end Philip Daniels, one of the former players sourced in the Post article, told them that "[Williams] never told us to go out there and break a guy's neck or break a guy's leg. It was all in the context of good, hard football." When "good, hard football" — see the aforementioned clichés designed to mask ill will — is framed in the context of mercenary practices, especially given the league's recent rhetoric surrounding concussion prevention, we reach a paradox: Even if the hit is legal under NFL rules, does the illegality of offering someone money to hurt someone else supersede it? Of course.
Money begets winning. Winning begets more money. It's an ugly tradition of biblical structure and proportions. The NFL will respond in kind, dealing out punishment proportional to the pain. Will that even get at the real issue? All of the league−issued rhetoric surrounds the bounties, but shouldn't we be worried about player safety first and foremost? When the NFL's image is at stake, why should the league care?
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Alex Prewitt is a senior majoring in English and religion. He can be reached on his blog at http://livefrommudville.blogspot.com or followed on Twitter at @Alex_Prewitt.
