A Test Of Brotherhood??

By Desi Cortez
Updated: December 27, 2007

This was my letter to Santa. – I’m waiting to see if I was naughty or nice….

Dear Santa Claus,

Please, please, please make Coach Tony Dungy play his starters, and kick the hell out of the Titans. I feel for Vince, but I want Coach Romeo Crennel in the postseason tournament, for the simple reason… he’s Black.

— Desi Cortez

DENVER — I hope, with all my heart, Tony Dungy is in it – the finale conflict of the regular season, against the gifted one, Vince Young, and the Titans to win it. And I hope one of the factors motivating him to do so, is to ensure a playoff berth for Romeo Crennel and the Cleveland Browns, out of comradery, sportsmanship and brotherhood.

Dungy tends to take his vital chess pieces off the board. A few seasons back he rested his starters, and found his Colts rounded’up and sent packing in the first round of the playoffs.

Nonetheless, there’s a good reason to secure the victory – merely to set the postseason tone. Yet, in reality, the by-product – enabling Romeo to come to the dance. is worth-wile. What’s wrong with making it a little more difficult for a franchise to dismiss a Black coach as fast as they can….

I’m not asking Dungy to lose a game, no, I’m begging him to take the hill, secure the victory, don’t provide those who were hoping at the onset of the 07′ season Coach Crennel would fall on his face, not because they hate the Browns, but because they hate the Blacks, the uppity Blacks who’re knockin’ at the owners door, asking for the opportunity to apply years of invaluable experience on and off the field to the front office.

Hate, not based on Crennel’s accomplishments, his resume, his recommendations and professional endorsements, but because he’s an Afro-American stepping out of his assigned place.

That would be discrimination, based on race, ala racism. Yeah, I want Dungy to win for Romeo, and I sure as hell mean it.

Why ask Coach Dungy to help out another Black man ? Because Dungy lives by the creed; I am my brothers keeper; All for one, and one for all, We are family. It is my hope he see’s what I see, what we all see, there’s a deliberate but unspoken agreement to hinder and hopefully minimize the number of Blacks as Head Coaches, and it starts with reluctantly appointing Blacks as Offensive/ Defensive Coordinators, because that is a key stepping stone, putting a man but a stones step away from the seat of power.

This low number of Black head coaches is not by coincident nor happenstance, it’s a strategic and pre-mediated quasi orchestrated “last stand” against the obvious colorization of the game.

I’m sorry, slap my ass and call me paranoid, but I see a good ol’ boy network which practices exclusionary tactics, in order to maintain a Augusta Masters Country Club like feel and flavor. And Major College Football is worse….Call it another peculiar Institution .

Due not to ancient NFL history, which is riddled with excluding and short-changing Blacks, but on the present-day racial climate of the league – where the Black player, particularly the quarterback is constantly “under-attack”, like Donavon McNabb is.

The Black head coach is an endangered spices, not permitted to gain a solid foot-hold, multiply, influence the game, influence the man-cubs who become millionaires over-night, and have never had a father in their lives, never really had anybody demonstrate what a man is, how a man conducts himself, handles fame and fortune.

Let me ask you; What do you think might have been the impact if Black men were permitted to be head coaches 40 years ago. What might the Black athlete look like today, what might, what could the make and model have been crafted and molded into – if the men leading them might have looked not just like them, but viewed the Black athlete… as a man, and not a mindless, heartless barbarian.

With this being the climate, I’m crossing my finger, toes, eyes and both testicles, in a, primitive yes, but desperate gesture to garner the gridiron god’s sympathy.

Oh Buck Buchanan! Please prompt Coach Dungy to do the right thing – watch the back of a fellow Buffalo Soldier, who’s paid his dues, strived against all the red-neck opposition, been overlooked and looked over, and like Art Shell, may never get a second chance considering the iron curtain NFL owners seem to draw shut whenever a position opens. Getting into the playoff caps a Cinderella season, and silences the critics… to next fall.

Who today has aspiring Black coaches and QB’s in their cross hairs? The angry disgruntled, inflamed White male fan, who’s looking-on at what they perceive as … a changing-for-the-worse NFL, and, the sports media industry – which is dominated, (I employ that term tactically, because it fits) by furious, frustrated, envious, bitter white guys.

Individuals who may have sat on the bench, behind Afro-American players, at the little-league, high school, college or pro level, and are simply bitter and envious of the visibility, popularity, power and accolades these big cats receive, and that transfers into their outlook, perception and depiction of the game and the men who play it.

Men who detest the color, cleverness, speed, feel and flavor the Black gladiator brings to the game. If I had the time – about a day, I’d drift into what ire and resentment it creates when a commercial flashes, like the one with Braylon Edwards, and in the background, waiting on her stud, is a snow bunny Barbie doll, historically reserved for Bert Jones and Joe Namath, historically, off-limits for Black men.

Ask Emmitt Till’s mother. We can only ponder the “I hate niggers” thoughts all this interracial intercourse players openly engage in, creates in sportsbars and backyards across mainstream (white) America.

Let me hammer that point – it is critical, because the brash, aggressive, defiant Black athlete is by far the one “thing” which burns the ass of white guys. It is so very obvious in their depiction of players and their deeds, every act is an effortless natural display of raw talent, virtually no player is hard working, seldom regarded as a student of the game or an “coach on the field.”

Meantime, the plantation owners are constantly attempting to control players celebrations and appearance, they don’t want these boy’s to get out of hand, blend BET and the NBA with the NFL.

Death Row Records meets the Cheeseheads at the Dog pound.

There was only suppose to be one Black team, and that was the Raiders. The Pride and Poise Boys, the Skull and Bones, the silver and black ….. Sorry, but I sleep in when George Atkinson and Jack Tatum draws….

And, since we’re being honest, let’s admit how much the average White man resents the transformation of the Golden Boy, from blond-haired and blue-eyed Paul Hornung, John Elway and Frank Gifford, to Bronze warriors like TO , Moss, Vick, (Free Vick), Vince Young, Tiki. We assumed the position of power the second the playing field was leveled, once it became mono-a-mono

Ponder this, America had to accept Jack Johnson destroyed all-comers, even contrived Great White Hopes. Then, Joe Louis had to step in and save Uncle Sam’s ass against Max Schmeling. Jesse Owens flipped off Hitler, Jesse! Not some white kid from the fields of Kansas.

Jackie Robinson, Ali, Smokin’ Joe, Althea Gibson, the Big O, Wilt, Bill Russell, Clyde, Venus and Serena, O.J., Reggie Jackson, Walter Payton, Jerry Rice, the Doctor, Tiger, Jordan, all these individuals redefined their respective sport, redefined the job qualifications, to a point that excludes the white athlete.

Their success and domination has created a angry backlash that White sportswriters and fans ignore. Ain’t fairness and equality a mo-fo??

But with a level playing field, comes obvious feelings of inferiority… small penis syndrome, little breast-i-tist, which can be easily observed by just listening to and reading the words of fans and sports journalist, their overbearing, hostile – not merely insensitive to the Black player.

And, many white males shutter at the thought of having to answer to a Black man, of placing their son’s football future, his fate …. in the hands of a Black man.

And when young, under-educated man-cubs cross the line, and behave like the sports stars of previous eras’, drink, chase women, fight, we no-longer place them on a pedestal, like Bobby Lane, Dick Butkus, Ray Nitschke, Jack Lambert, Joe DiMaggio or the Babe.

Instead, the Puritan base of America is outraged when a poor boy from the projects in Newport News continues the hobbies popular in da’ hood, da’ Burro and da’ trailer park.

A hundred lashes at sunrise seems to be the desired punshinsment for most players. Teach that boy a lesson…. Stop me when I’m lying.

There’s a deliberate effort on the behalf of some elements of professional sports to reduce the impact and influence of the Black sportsmen on America’s national pastimes. And that ought not shock anyone.

Gimmie’ a break, it’s a fricking given – this nation’s dragging it’s feet, hem-hawing, doing everything it can to slow the transfer of power in certain key prestigious positions – the head coach, the CEO, high school principal, QB, President…. of these so-called United States of America

The glass ceiling applies to more industries and endeavors than the corporate world. There’s a good ol’ boy network alive and well, at work disparaging, sometimes sabotaging the chances of potential Black coaches.

Continuously babbling about being “just not comfortable” with a Black man at the helm of an owners half-a-billion dollar flagship franchise. Constant, never ending coded discussion about competence and intelligence, which seemingly are never worth mentioning issues when it comes to old over-seers like Tom Coughlin or wet-behind-the-ear brainiacs cut in the mold of Lane Kiffin.

Please, please, please Coach Dungy. Come this Sunday, kick some Titan ass.