The NFL is unable to hide its Eric Bieniemy problem with poetry.
The league announced last week that Amanda Gorman, America’s first award-winning young poet, whose proud verse about a nation divided by race and conflict captivated viewers in President Biden’s inauguration, would deliver a poem before the Super Bowl game on Sunday.
On the one hand, it is fantastic news. Gorman’s way with words is a tonic that we need now.
On the other hand, be careful. The embrace of professional football by a young black woman like Gorman – following her sudden and forced support for the Black Lives Matter after George Floyd’s death – is part of a public relations campaign that obscures the worrying reality.
The NFL now sells itself as a champion for equality. But where change is most needed, it remains stagnant in the difficult days of antiquity.
Black players represent about 70% of the NFL lineups, which means that they provide most of the entertainment. However, whites hold power and do not give up. Without black team ownership. A dash of black faces in senior management. It took until 1989 for the NFL to hire a black coach for the first time in the modern era of the league. Not much has changed: now there are three.
The story, or rather, the shameful passing of Bieniemy, the offensive coordinator who helped bring the Kansas City Chiefs to consecutive Super Bowls, puts an important point in this. He is the best known, and most talked about, candidate for head coach in a small group of African American coordinators in the NFL. But he continues to watch from the sideline as his white peers are chosen to lead teams.
In the last technician hiring round, there were seven vacancies. Seven opportunities for the NFL to support slogans like “End Racism” that now line up their fields and adorn their helmets. Seven chances and Bieniemy was excluded again.
What else can he do? His team marched through the NFL playoffs as if their opponents were stick figures. Another victory and he has consecutive Super Bowl rings.
Quarterback Patrick Mahomes speaks loudly about Bieniemy whenever he can. Andy Reid, the Chiefs’ head coach, says he is a rare and talented leader. Given Reid’s stature in the NFL, this is like a blessing from God.
However, Reid remains appalled at how his second-in-command continues to be overlooked. “I’m happy to have it, but not so happy to have it,” said Reid last week. “I really hoped that he would have the opportunity to take one of those jobs. He would be great for any team. “
So why doesn’t Bieniemy get fair treatment?
Opponents say he does not call moves. But Reid and Mahomes say this is not true. And when not calling calls was an obstacle for white assistants hired to guide teams?
Another refrain states that Bieniemy does not interview or communicate well. But that belies his calm and safe way of addressing reporters. In addition, many white coaches seem unable to express themselves clearly.
Some say Bieniemy was not hired because of legal fights decades ago – including a fight in college after he was called racial slander and a drunk driving prison in 2001. But that ventures into double standards for a league notorious for ignoring violent crimes off the field with its players and blemishes with its white coaches.
Bieniemy, 51, a former player in his 15th year as an NFL assistant, somehow needs more experience? So, how can we explain a league currently in love with a new prototype: the young white coach touted by his genius, despite little on his resume. Consider the new Los Angeles Chargers coach, Brandon Staley, 38. In 2016, he was an assistant coach at Division III John Carroll University. Now he holds the reins of an NFL team.
Lots of experience when you look like the grandson of an NFL owner.
For a long time, during the same hiring cycle as always, it looked like it would be a complete shutdown for black coaches. Then, with one last job available, the Houston Texans hired Baltimore assistant David Culley.
Culley is 65 years old. You read that right: retirement age, and he’s only just getting his first leadership role in the league. He has been training for about 40 years. Is this really what it takes? Four decades of toil?
It is important to understand how discrimination alters the paths of NFL assistants. But there is another less talked about concern: the stifling effect on black coaches’ ambition throughout the process.
Charles Adams is just one example.
A few months ago, I wrote about Adams and his journey as an African-American police officer and head coach at Minneapolis North High School. He inherited a fighting team from the most difficult part of his city, turned him into a perennial power and won a state title. When you watch the Super Bowl and see Tampa Bay Buccaneers rookie Tyler Johnson receiving passes from Tom Brady, know that it was Adams who guided the young receiver in high school and still guides him today.
When we spoke recently, Adams told me how he used to imagine working for a college team and moving up the ranks from there. Maybe the professionals. Perhaps head coach. Why not? For years, he applied for an NFL grant that sends black coaches to training camps so that they can relate and absorb knowledge. He never got an answer.
It is a violent blow. Seeing Bieniemy being constantly overlooked is another. Together, the message is terrible. Don’t think too big.
“For many of us, it becomes ‘Why bother?'” Said Adams.
This is the forgotten tragedy. Ambitious white coaches look to the NFL, see many open lanes and keep moving forward. Ambitious black coaches see obstacles and dead ends – and often lower their expectations.
The cycle continues. An old American tale.
It will be great to see Amanda Gorman recite poetry at the Super Bowl. But when you do, think of Bieniemy and all the coaches who look like him. Think of your hopes and frustrations – of your postponed dreams, over and over again.