Former Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Kordell Stewart (or, as he'd come to be affectionately known by fans, Slash) wrote an article for The Players' Tribune that was posted today. In the piece, Stewart speaks in great detail about a rumor that circulated the city in the 90s.
The fact that it spread so quickly and so efficiently in 1998 is shocking.
But the content of the rumor is neither here nor there.
The source of the rumor is not worth re-mentioning.
What had me near in tears was that this kind of thing was happening to players back then - even then. It's still happening to players today. The status of social media, the keyboard warriors, has served to amplify the outcome.
Anyone can be reduced to entertainment. When someone's personhood is stripped away and their purpose becomes consumption, their every waking move is subject to scrutiny. But as Stewart made known today - there's nothing new to be seen here. The objectification of athletes has been occurring for decades, we've just settled into our club seats to watch it unfold by the minute.
If you don't believe that (or choose to live in oblivion), hop onto Twitter for a bit and you'll get the idea. There are a chosen few who take poor performance on the field and stretch it far enough to reach these players' homes. They attack looks, loved ones, just about anything that can be latched onto and weaponized. Things get ugly. And what's said is quickly forgotten by the ones who type it, but held closely in mind and heart by the ones who read it - the intended recipients.
Those recipients, these players, they are people. And we are all capable of forgetting that.
Every. Single. One of us.
It is so easy to view them as inexhaustible wells who exist to fulfill our own longings, amusement, and dashed dreams when they're working in...the entertainment industry. They play the game because they love it themselves, and they understand what it means for us, the ones who watch.
But what we have turned into, collectively, is a mob set to pluck away at their humanity bit by bit until we are satisfied. Nothing is enough; unless, of course, it's too much.
Not enough service.
Too much TikTok.
Not enough yardage.
Too many dropped passes.
The social media mob has become arbiter, judge, and jury.
"WE determine your worth. And here are the metrics."
That's all well and good if you're playing franchise mode on Madden. But these are not robotic graphics that flash on the screen, that move as you will and do as you command. These are not nameless, faceless people gliding through onlookers' personal delusion. There is, of course, no such thing as nameless, faceless people. When we set down our screens, walk away from our TV's, leave the game - these human beings continue to live, too. They're the athletes, they're the ones everyone knows. And I think we use that to comfort ourselves and defend our words, believing we can hide in anonymity. But they know what's going on. They see what's being said. They carry it all with them. The good, the bad, and the unacceptable. The unforgettable.
Be critical of their play, be honest about their shortcomings. Hell, feel free to speculate when players seemingly collapse and fall from grace. But please, for their sake and your own, remember their humanity. Remember how far life stretches beyond the game you're watching. Remember to be kind.
You never know which words of yours someone else will carry with them for decades.
#SteelerNation
