It was a little over three years ago that Republican Presidential hopeful Mitt Romney made a campaign stop in Des Moines, at the Iowa State Fair. Heckling ensued, as can happen to politicians during public appearances, and he responded — which, as it turned out, probably wasn’t the best of ideas. The kicker, of course, was that now infamous exclamation, “Corporations are people too, my friend!”
It was a line that — from Romney, an almost perfect caricature of the out-of-touch plutocrat — seemed immediately destined to join the pantheon of political gaffe soundbites, from “I read most of (the newspapers)” to “Now watch this drive.” And sure enough, Romney did become a punchline for a while — a frequent target for The Daily Show, Colbert, and a host of other liberal satirists.
By then, though, the joke was already on us.
In 2010, the Supreme Court’s “Citizens United” decision had tossed out restrictions on corporate political donations, using the First Amendment as justification. Money was speech, and corporations were free to continue talking. (Just this year, in the “Hobby Lobby” case, the Court further held that a corporation was entitled to religious protections, as well.) And so, as American companies talk, and spend, and believe like people — and continue to be protected as such — it’s become quite clear that Romney’s Iowa interjection wasn’t a gaffe at all. It was a man telling us how it is.
The National Football League is not a corporation. Or a person. And it’s a good thing too, because if the league were a person, it’s safe to say that at this point it would be hard for him (yes, it would be a him), to show his face in polite society. The nightmare of the past few months doesn’t need to be rehashed, but it all reached a toxic new low on Friday, when Commissioner Roger Goodell broke his conspicuous week-long absence with a “we screwed up, now let us fix it” defense. (You may recall this was last used — quite unconvincingly, I might add — by Domino’s Pizza.)
Then a funny thing happened.
Immediately after “Roger Dodger” asked the American public to let him get to the bottom of things, ESPN’s Don Van Natta Jr. and Kevin Van Valkenberg demonstrated that they already are, publishing a detailed accounting of how the Ravens, and the league, handled the aftermath of Ray Rice’s Atlantic City violence.
By now, you likely know the major revelations:
- That no matter what they said, the Ravens were quite clear on Rice’s actions less than 24 hours after the incident
- That the Ravens had been working under the “assumption” that Goodell had seen the footage from inside the elevator prior to the June 16 disciplinary hearing
- That text messages from Ravens owner Steve Bisciotti to Rice, just after Rice’s release, purportedly floated future employment with the team — an offer that Rice seems to think was made to buy his silence.
But there’s another portion of the exhaustive report that jumps out. It may not be as sensational, but it is, in so many ways, every bit as important:
Rice’s situation was tumultuous for the Ravens in more ways than one. In 2011, Rice became the primary face of an M&T Bank advertising campaign that plays in heavy rotation on Baltimore radio and television. It’s also frequently featured in the pages of The Sun and in local magazines. From 2011 to 2014, a person could scarcely go an hour without seeing or hearing Rice pushing M&T Bank check cards, or repeating the advertising campaign’s slogan “Raise the Green Flag!” a slogan the bank says is meant to symbolize a “strong ray of hope in a time of turmoil.” … A source says the bank expressed concerns about the Rice matter to the Ravens after the first TMZ video had become public.
OTL’s investigation, as one would expect, explores Rice from a number of angles: Ray Rice the person, Ray Rice the running back, Ray Rice the leader in his community, and Ray Rice the assailant (doing so through what appear to be numerous sources close to Rice, among others). But in the paragraph above, we begin to see what’s most important to a whole lot of people in this truly miserable story: Ray Rice the brand.
One of the recurring themes of football’s terrible month has been the utter inconsistency of the discipline that has been imposed. Rice went from a two-game suspension to an indefinite one, and an outright release by the Ravens. Greg Hardy suited up for Week 1, then was deactivated for the Panthers’ second game, before being added to the Commissioner’s Exempt List. There, he’ll join Adrian Peterson, who was deactivated for last weekend’s game, only to have the Vikings reverse course, allow Peterson to rejoin the team, and then change their minds again (which then pushed Carolina to reconsider its stance on Hardy).
What’s the reason for all the changing punishments? Firm guidelines? No, of course not. Established precedent? Don’t be silly. Thoughtful, and nuanced consideration of the individual circumstances of each incident? Now you’re just making me laugh. No, the discipline is changing because these teams, these leagues, are just running one perpetual cost/benefit analysis. They’ll support you, so long as it’s worth it. They’ll stand by their punishment, as long as it won’t cost them. And they’ll draw a line in the sand, until someone finds a more lucrative (or less damaging) place for that line.
It’s worth noting that Ray Rice, by all relevant data, is no longer a very good running back. He averaged just 3.1 yards per carry last season, and most observers believed that his best days were well behind him, long before any disciplinary issue arose. So why then, why did the Ravens, and the league, in the notoriously cutthroat business of professional football, initially stand behind a player who wasn’t much of a player anymore? Going beyond the close relationship between between Bisciotti and Goodell, Rice still meant plenty of money to the Ravens (and the NFL). He was, after all, the public face of the Ravens, the man plastered on all those billboards and moving all of those check cards.
And then, suddenly, he wasn’t. To wit:
Shortly after [Goodell’s press conference defending the initial two-game suspension], Betsey Locke, M&T Bank’s group vice president for advertising, promotions and sponsorships, announced that Harbaugh would become the new face of the bank’s marketing campaign. Rice would no longer be featured.
Officially, Ray Rice was released on September 8, the same afternoon TMZ made public the now-infamous video from inside the elevator. But Rice’s fate was really sealed the moment he lost his leading role with M&T Bank. Nothing changed that day for Ray Rice the human being, but Ray Rice the brand? Suddenly, he wasn’t worth nearly as much.
It’s not surprising that the NFL’s crisis has crossed over into the business world. The Radisson hotel chain was one of the first to act, suspending their sponsorship with the Vikings in the wake of their poor handling of the Peterson case. A variety of statements have followed, from Anheuser Busch,PepsiCo, Visa, and Nike (whose condemnation of child abuse struck many as quite laughable). Over at Deadspin, Barry Petchesky explained quite convincingly why scared sponsors are the only things that can really push the NFL to change course.
But in today’s day and age, “corporation” doesn’t stop at breweries, hotel chains, and credit card companies. No, to the NFL, it also means Peyton Manning, J.J. Watt, and Richard Sherman. These aren’t just men to the league, they are assets — and at the moment, they are quite valuable. But they should all be aware that that can change, at any moment. Sometimes, as with Rice, and Hardy, and Peterson, the players are themselves responsible, but eventually, father time makes everyone expendable. Go ask anyone on the league’s long list of suffering retirees. In the end, it doesn’t matter if it’s because you’ve done wrong, or because the game has wronged you. Money is the NFL’s fuel, and if you can’t help the league make any more of it, don’t expect it to find any room for you.
It was Jay-Z who told us that “I’m not a businessman; I’m a business, man.” And nowhere is that sentiment truer, for better and for worse, than in the world of professional sports. Adrian Peterson is sitting out because his presence isn’t profitable right now. But he’s getting paid, because there’s still hope that at some point in the future it might be. For Ray Rice, all hope of that is gone, and therefore, so is he.
If you’re having a hard time keeping up with the NFL’s evolving discipline, and changing stories, understand that it’s all because they’re standing outside with a calculator, and a finger to the wind, trying to figure out what happens next, and how it’s going to affect their balance sheet. It’s not about justice, it’s not about rehabilitation, and it’s not about setting an example for society. It’s about dollar signs, plain and simple, and the sooner we all realize that, the sooner it’ll set us all free.
We may hate to admit it, but Mitt Romney was right after all. Corporations are people. And vice versa. So here’s some words of wisdom for any athlete, or any person, in America today: Stay safe, stay strong, and stay out of trouble. But above all, stay profitable. Nobody’s going to save you when your business goes bad.
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