Wednesday, January 24, 2001
Pro athletes think everything's irrelevant but themselves
TAMPA, Fla. — He asked us to give Ray Lewis a break, and no one was going to do that. Brian Billick wanted the small media nation to lay off his star linebacker, but his request came out sounding like a father lecturing his kid about smoking.
“As much as some of you want to, we are not going to retry this,” the Baltimore Ravens coach had said, unprompted. Billick called us media heathens “reprehensible” and “ambulance chasers.”
Yeah, OK. What's your point?
Sam Wyche once said it wasn't wise to mess with people who buy ink by the barrel. Or tape by the mile. Billick didn't apply Wyche's theory. So there was Ray Lewis at media day Tuesday, besieged by more ink and tape than a normal man could imagine.
Billick had adopted the Gary Hart pose, and look where it got him. Look where it got Ray Lewis. A story that was embers returned to full flame. Let's hope Billick has a better game plan for Sunday than he had for Tuesday. Because the revisionist history on Ray Lewis — acquitted murder defendant turns tragedy to triumph - took a big hit.
Lewis met the Super Bowl media for the first (and perhaps last) time Tuesday. If you expected him to express sadness for the families of the two men murdered in his midst last January, you are confusing his world with yours. They are not the same.
It's useless to argue with him. It's
meaningless to protest, or to wonder, as one newsman did, if Lewis “had anything to say to the families” of the dead men.
“Nah,” said Lewis. Then, to remind his public of what his chosen subject would be, Lewis added, “Football, football, football.”
We live on different planets.
We may watch the same sunsets, drive the same cars, watch the same hit movies. We may love our families the same way, spoil our kids the same, respect our mothers the same.
But we couldn't be more different.
When Lewis offered that one of his goals this year was “to be a spiritual leader,” he was serious. You snickered.
When Lewis said, “All I have to handle is Tiki Barber and the Giants offense. The rest is irrelevant,” he meant it. When Lewis likened himself to Jesus — “Jesus got slashed at and spit at,” he said — he couldn't have been more serious. That's his world.
We make the mistake of assuming famous entertainers live the same, real life we do. We allow them space and accord them grace because they can play games, or act or sing better than we could ever dream.
We encourage in them a conscience that says what happens to them is always more important than what happens to anyone else. We applaud coaches such as Billick who defend them. Billick's biggest concern is that the ceaseless murder talk will be a “distraction” to his best player's game preparation.
We build $450 million stadiums while allowing a school roof to leak. We pay a baseball player $250 million and a social worker $20,000. Lewis speaks some nonsense comparing himself to Jesus and we gobble his every word. We shouldn't be surprised that guys such as Lewis live in the land of I, Me, My. We built their houses.
“I am a little disturbed about the focus,” Billick decided. He was talking about the media fire surrounding his star linebacker. One supposes.
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at (513) 768-8454.
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DAUGHERTY: Pro athletes think everything's irrelevant but themselves
