What is it with men in sport? I consider events that have made headlines in recent times and I cannot reconcile the standards we apply.
Last month Sydney Rugby League player, Shaun Kenny-Dowall, was charged with 10 offences including causing bodily harm, assault and stalking his ex-girlfriend. Despite the severity of the charges, the NRL’s campaigning against domestic violence, and even a call from the NSW Premier for unambiguous leadership on this issue, the player was not stood down. He’s been allowed to play on.
Kenny-Dowall has not faced a fraction of the backlash or vitriol AFL player and former Australian of the Year Adam Goodes has faced for having the audacity to seek respect for his heritage. How can that be?
Yesterday Nick Kyrgios made headlines around the world for sledging his opponent Stan Wawrinka by telling him that another player had “banged” his girlfriend. It’s another show of wholly uninspiring and unacceptable conduct from the Australian tennis star. It prompted a swift and unequivocal response from other players, the tennis community and beyond.
The Association of Tennis Professionals fined him $US10,000 for his behaviour and has not ruled out further disciplinary action. Kyrgios issued a public and a private apology to Wawrinka, who expressed his views about the “unacceptable conduct” on social media.
"I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for the comments I made during the match last night vs Stan…
Posted by Nick Kyrgios on Thursday, August 13, 2015
Few have leapt to Kyrgios’ defence, which is entirely reasonable given his trail of indiscretions. Referencing the sexual encounters of a fellow player’s partner is disgraceful, but I wonder if this is a lone example? I might be wrong, but my understanding of the sledging that is commonplace in sports is that it is often lewd and crude. Does that make it acceptable? Absolutely not.
But does it make it intriguing that in this instance a player is universally condemned, and rightfully so, while other athletes have committed worse crimes but escape universal condemnation?
Kenny-Dowall, for example, faces serious criminal charges and yet maintains the support of his club and his peers. In 2009 Greg Bird was convicted of glassing his girlfriend in the face and sentenced to a minimum of 8 months in jail before later being acquitted. He still plays professional and representative rugby league.
Floyd Mayweather has spent several stints in jail for brutally assaulting his partners, yet these crimes matter little given his prowess in the boxing ring. More than three million Americans tuned in to watch his fight earlier this year against Manny Pacquiao which earned him a $180 million paycheque.
At the end of last month Thandi Mokone-Chase wrote a gripping essay in the New York Times about her father, “Apartheid Trailblazer and Domestic Abuser”. Her father, Stephen “Kalamazoo” Mokone, was a brilliant soccer player and an abusive man. He spent 12 years in jail in the US for attacking Thandi’s mother with sulphuric acid. And yet on his death he was lauded as “a national asset” and “a hidden hero.”
She writes:
“The violent, criminal acts for which he was responsible were minimized — if even mentioned. His narrative seems a representation of the violent athlete misogynist, similar to other elite athletes such as Floyd Mayweather, Ray Rice and Oscar Pistorius. How can it be that we excuse abusive behavior with statements such as: “With the pressure of divorce and child custody battle…he simply lost his head,” or “Good men sometimes do bad things?”
What message does our society send when the NFL gives Tom Brady a harsher measure of discipline for scheming to deflate footballs than initially brought against Ray Rice for physically and brutally attacking his fiancée?
As Stephen Mokone’s daughter, I want survivors of these experiences to be acknowledged and included in the global conversation about violence against women. It is particularly disturbing to watch professional athletes glorified by society in life and in death, leaving behind an agonizing legacy for their victims.”
It is agonising and compelling to read. What makes us capable of rendering the violence of athletically-gifted men acceptable?
Why can we accept violent athletes but we can’t readily accept a proud Indigenous man? Why can we more easily condemn Kyrgios for being rude and obnoxious than we can condemn a rugby league player facing criminal charges?
And, on the flipside, why can’t we accept athletes as human beings?
Michael Clarke, Australia’s outgoing cricket captain hasn’t evaded controversy in his career but he has certainly evaded criminal charges and scandalous conduct.
At the end of last year he faced the tragic and cruel death of his good friend Phillip Hughes. He led his side and the cricket community through the catastrophic emotional turmoil that followed. He acted with incredible integrity and grace. He was rightfully lauded by Australians for his compassion and leadership. At the time I wrote this:
“If there is one great legacy that emerges from Phillip Hughes’ passing let it be the incredible display of emotion and friendship from the men who played alongside and against him. The men who loved him. Let men like Michael Clarke show younger generations of men another mould of man. Men who are worth emulating not just for their skills on the cricket pitch but for the people and friends they are off the field. Men and friends who are able to love one another, to hold each other’s hands and to show the world how much they care.”
Fast forward nine months and Michael Clarke is being decimated. Australia suffered a devastating defeat in the Ashes and he’s retiring as a result. He’s had an extraordinary successful career on the pitch but that seems to matter little now.
In any high performance field, performance is obviously critical. Should Michael Clarke’s performance be immune from criticism? Of course not.
But should his leadership and his past performance be overridden by this failure? I’d hope not.
I’ve no sympathy for the argument that we ought to give athletes “some slack” whenever they slip up off the field due to the pressure they face. When they drink-drive, when they misbehave and when they get caught out, my views is they ought to face the same consequences anyone else would.
But I have a lot of sympathy for the fact we ought to offer athletes the ability to be human. And let me be clear; Beating up a girlfriend isn’t “human”. Throwing out vile insults to opponents isn’t human. But a slump in form, suffering a loss and messing up on the field is human.
Let’s get clear about what is expected and tolerated in athletes. Because right now there’s no consistency in the standards we apply.