I’ve been pulling my hair out trying to write something on the Kaepernick Kontroversy, which has graciously extended itself into its fourth week for me without any reward. I’ll try to have that up this week. For now, though, I have an opportunity to write something both pithy and timely for once, so here I go.
Madison Bumgarner got himself in trouble again tonight. For those who don’t know, the Giants pitcher has a history of getting angry at opposing players for all kinds of trivial, even indiscernible reasons. He’s the kind of player known as a “red-ass,” one who treats every game event with adolescent intensity and generally makes himself unpleasant to be around.
However, in the last couple of years, a number of people have suggested a pattern: a lot of the players Bumgarner has gotten in yelling matches with have been Black and/or Caribbean, a pattern laid out by Bill Baer in a post from May of last year. Probably unwisely in the context of that discussion, Baer left off a number of incidents that Bumgarner has had with white players—Ian Kinsler, Troy Tulowitzki, Matt Holliday, Wil Myers, even the umpire Joe West. (I believe some of these happened since Bill’s post last year; I haven’t checked the dates.) All in all, there’s plenty of material for those who want to argue that Bumgarner (who is from the South) is racist, and plenty for those who want to argue that he’s just an equal-opportunity asshole. This is the kind of thing—a thorny question on a controversial topic, seen through the eyes of sports partisanship—that is just about guaranteed to lead to mature and thoughtful discussion online.
So during tonight’s game, when he started yelling at Yasiel Puig after they had a staredown, instigating their third such encounter, the Internet had a field day:
I would like to use my considerable clout in the world of sports commentary to suggest that we should not make jokes of this kind.
Here’s my thing: racism matters. That means, when it happens, it should be called out, and that includes not only incidents that are overtly racist (a player uses a racial slur) but also those that may fit racist patterns (a player seems to have a predilection for seeking conflict with Black or Latino players). A lot of sports tropes, especially in baseball, are racially charged—everything from “natural athlete” to “showboat” to “plays the game the right way”—and they should be identified as such when they occur in word or deed, even though a lot of people, earnestly or disingenuously, will claim not to know what we’re talking about.
However, the other implication of “racism matters” is that we should treat accusations of racism seriously. If we’re going to accuse someone of racism, we should commit to it, not play it for laughs. A sentiment you read a lot online—about this, about all kinds of things—is, “Jeez, people get so mad when you call something racist.” Well, being racist or not is a big deal! It should evoke strong feelings! You cannot simultaneously send the message that racism is a serious problem, possibly our society’s most serious problem, and that calling someone a white supremacist is the kind of roll-off-your-back humor that only a pedant would get mad about. This should not just be grist for the meme mill.
It also shouldn’t be a matter of team partisanship. Yes, the people who are most likely to defend Bumgarner are Giants fans like me; anecdotally, the people who are most likely to jump on the idea that he’s a racist are Dodgers fans. This is a bad state of affairs. It’s one thing for us to judge steroids, or diving for a foul, or whatever, based on what uniform the perpetrator is wearing; I’m not in love with that inconsistency either, but it’s unavoidable (I’m just as guilty as anyone) and inconsequential. But reducing racial animus to just one more needle to wield against opposing teams and their fans—”STERRR-OIDS!” “RAAAAA-CIST!”—dilutes it absurdly, and insults the efforts of those who actually work to fight it.
And finally, because accusations of racism are consequential, we should care about getting them right. I don’t know if the list of white folks Bumgarner’s been mad at is long enough to defuse the idea that he’s a racist. I personally think, given the seriousness of the charge, that we should be good sabermetricians and treat this as a case of small sample size, but I also recognize that my Giants fandom inclines me to say that anyway. However, what I do strongly believe is that that list of white players, pedantic though may seem, is vital to include in this discussion, if it’s a discussion we’re going to have, because we should want to know whether or not Bumgarner really is racist. Yet when people question the premise, they just come across as desperate apologists, and are treated as such:
Baumann’s reaction to the Giants fans he’s talking about is absolutely understandable: people who defend others—particularly celebrities they admire—against racism or sexism or other isms really are being disingenuous a lot of the time, including many Giants fans in this discussion, so it’s fair that people would be leery of such defenses. Yet they’re a necessary evil of having this conversation in the first place. The one-way ratchet, where calling someone racist is fair game but defending someone against a charge of racism is not, may seem to redress the very real power disparity between those who enforce or tolerate white supremacy (who have lots of power), and those who fight it (who have very little). In fact, it does the opposite. It sends the message that these claims won’t stand up to scrutiny—that, again, they are not being made seriously. The message is, “If you don’t think there’s anything racist going on, I’m certainly not going to try and convince you otherwise.” This doesn’t persuade anyone; on the contrary, it inoculates them against persuasion. Sure, almost no one gets persuaded online anyway, but isn’t it worth making the attempt, if for no other reason than to prove that you take the subject seriously?
As I’ve suggested earlier, while I’m thrilled that the Internet has allowed progressive sports fans and commentators to find each other, that clannishness does present a serious risk of self-satisfaction. Let’s define ourselves, not just by our willingness to criticize racism in the sports we watch, but by our willingness to care about it—enough to debate and discuss it, enough to feel it. Joking about racism is a way of protecting ourselves from actually having to face the discussion squarely. Let’s deny ourselves that comfort.