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The NFL can’t hide its Eric Bieniemy problem with poetry.
The league announced last week that Amanda Gorman, America’s first Young Poet Laureate, whose burgeoning verse about a nation torn apart by race and conflict has captivated viewers of President Biden’s inauguration, will deliver a poem pre-game Super Bowl Sunday.
On the one hand, this is excellent news. Gorman’s way of words is a tonic we need now.
However, beware. The professional football embrace of a young black woman like Gorman – in the wake of her sudden and forced support for Black Lives Matter after the murder of George Floyd – is part of a public relations campaign that obscures the disturbing reality .
The NFL is now selling itself as an equal champion. But where change is needed most, it gets stuck in the painful days of yore.
Black players make up about 70% of the NFL workforce, which means they provide most of the entertainment. Yet whites hold the power and will not let go. No ownership of the black team. A pinch of black faces in the top direction. It wasn’t until 1989 that the NFL hired a black coach for the first time in the modern league era. Not much has changed: there are now three.
The story, or rather the shameful death of Bieniemy, the offensive coordinator who helped propel the Kansas City Chiefs to back-to-back Super Bowls, puts an end to that. He’s the best-known and most-discussed head coach candidate among a small group of African-American NFL coordinators. But he continues to watch from the sidelines as his white peers are chosen to lead teams.
In the last head coach hiring round, there were seven openings. Seven occasions for the NFL to stand behind slogans like “End Racism” which now line its fields and adorn its helmets. Seven chances, and Bieniemy was ruled out again.
What more can he do? His team marched through the NFL playoffs as if their opponents were stick figures. One more win and he has back-to-back Super Bowl rings.
Star quarterback Patrick Mahomes talks about Bieniemy whenever he gets the chance. Chiefs head coach Andy Reid says he’s a rare and gifted leader. Considering Reid’s stature in the NFL, it’s like a blessing from God.
Yet Reid continues to be amazed at how neglected his second in command is. “I’m happy to have it, but I’m not that happy to have it,” Reid said last week. “I really hoped he would have the opportunity to take on one of these jobs. It would be great for any number of teams.
So why can’t Bieniemy just be shaken?
Opponents claim he does not call the games. But Reid and Mahomes say that’s not true. And when has not calling the games a barrier for the white assistants hired to lead the teams?
Another choir claims that Bieniemy doesn’t interview or communicate well. But that belies his calm and confident way of addressing reporters. In addition, many white coaches seem unable to speak clearly.
Some say Bieniemy was not hired due to friction with the law that took place decades ago – including a brawl in college after being labeled a racist insult and an arrest for driving in state intoxicated in 2001. a league known for neglecting violent misdeeds off the field with its players and imperfections with its white coaches.
Bieniemy, 51, a former player in his 15th year as an NFL assistant, does he need more experience? So how to explain a league currently in love with a new prototype: the young white coach trumpeted his genius despite little on his CV. Take the example of new Los Angeles Chargers coach Brandon Staley, 38. In 2016, he was an assistant coach at John Carroll University in Division III. Now he holds the reins of an NFL team.
So much for the experience when you look like the grandson of an NFL owner.
For a long time, during that same recruiting cycle as this, it looked like it would be a full shutout for black coaches. Then, with one last job available, the Houston Texans hired Baltimore assistant David Culley.
Culley is 65. You read that right: retirement age, and he’s only now getting his first top job in the league. He has been a coach for about 40 years. Is this really what it takes? Four decades of hard work?
It’s important to understand how discrimination alters the journeys of NFL assistants. But there is another concern, which is less talked about: the stifling effect on the ambition of black coaches throughout the pipeline.
Charles Adams is just one example.
A few months ago, I wrote about Adams and his journey as an African American police officer and head coach at Minneapolis North High School. He inherited a struggling team from the toughest part of his city, made them an eternal powerhouse, and won a state title. When you watch the Super Bowl and see Tampa Bay Buccaneers rookie Tyler Johnson catching passes from Tom Brady, know that it was Adams who guided the young wide receiver through high school and still guides him today.
When we spoke recently, Adams told me how he used to imagine hanging on to a college team and climbing the ladder from there. Maybe the pros. Maybe head coach. Why not? For years, he applied for an NFL scholarship that sends black coaches to training camps so they can network and soak up their knowledge. He never got an answer.
It’s a scathing blow. Seeing Bieniemy consistently overlooked is another. Together, the message is horrible. Don’t think too big.
“For many of us, it becomes’ Why bother? Adams said.
It is the neglected tragedy. Ambitious white coaches watch the NFL, see a lot of open lanes and keep charging forward. Ambitious black coaches see roadblocks and dead ends – and often lower their expectations.
The cycle continues. A secular American tale.
It will be great to see Amanda Gorman recite poetry at the Super Bowl. But when you do, think of Bieniemy and all the coaches who look like him. Think about their hopes and frustrations – their delayed dreams, over and over again.
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