Boycott Nike and Reebok
Two decades ago, when I went
from a middle-class public high school to a fancy East Coast private college, I
noticed an irony. The jumbo egos that now surrounded me were less conspicuous
than the garden-variety egos I'd previously dwelt among. In my new cultural
milieu, it was considered bad form to note that you'd made a good grade, or to
engage in any other obvious form of self-advertisement. Adjusting to this new
environment, I soon began to affect a fairly convincing air of humility.
(Sounds like an impressively deft adaptation, I know, but--really--it was
nothing.)
The basic
principle here is that the higher the socioeconomic class, the less conspicuous
the self-promotion. "Less conspicuous" doesn't mean "less chronic," and it
certainly doesn't mean "less effective." On the contrary. What my college
classmates knew is that, as a rule, less overt self-promotion is more
effective. Having an obviously high opinion of yourself threatens and alarms
both peers and superiors, often to your ultimate detriment. All of which, I
contend, explains how ill-suited the ethos of inner-city teen-agers is to
economic advancement, and how big shoe companies such as Nike, Reebok, and
Converse make the problem worse.
College basketball coach Al McGuire once said that, whereas
many coaches took white players and tried to get them to play black, he took
black players and tried to get them to play white. He was alluding to a rarely
spoken but widely known truth: There are two cultural styles of basketball,
which we can conveniently label with the familiar code words "inner city" and
"suburban." In inner-city playgrounds, basketball is more conspicuously
egotistical. There is less passing to set up the open shot, more driving to the
hoop and other forms of mano a mano confrontation. More showboating,
more trash talking. Vividly humiliating the man guarding you is highly
prized.
One can argue about whether
this style of basketball reflects only the general tendency of lower-income
people to self-advertise conspicuously, as described above, or reflects also
the unique historical travails of American blacks. (The latter, I'd say.) One
can even argue about whether the inner-city or the suburban style of play is
better basketball. But one cannot argue about which ethos is more conducive to
advancement in the wider world. Like it or not, the mainstream American economy
is culturally suburban.
Try this thought experiment. Two job candidates
sit before you. One is an 18-year-old version of Chicago Bulls forward Dennis
Rodman. There are no visual cues to bias you--no tattoos, no purple hair, no
pantyhose. Just Rodman's in-your-face attitude, complete with a sensibility
that perceives roughly all human behavior as a sign of disrespect. (Recall his
recent kicking of a photographer for sitting courtside, where photographers
always sit.) The other candidate is an 18-year-old version of Hakeem Olajuwon,
the great Houston Rockets center who, though black, is a stereotypically
"suburban" player--selfless and humble, yet exuding quiet self-assurance on the
court and off. (Obviously, "inner-city" and "suburban" are ultimately cultural,
not racial, categories. Olajuwon twice won NBA championships with all-black
starting fives that had a suburban playing style. By contrast, Larry Bird, a
white player of low-income origins, was a noted trash talker.)
OK, faced
with the young Rodman and the young Olajuwon, whom do you hire? Correct:
Olajuwon. Ergo, who would be a better role model for poor black kids? Correct:
Olajuwon. Now, which of the two has a big shoe-endorsement contract? Correct:
Rodman (with Converse).
Aside from athletic talent, nothing is more helpful in
getting you a big shoe contract than being an asshole. There are exceptions,
yes, such as Detroit Piston Grant Hill, who wears Fila shoes. But the good-guy
shoe icons are vastly outnumbered by the likes of the Seattle Supersonics' of
Gary Payton (Nike) and Shawn Kemp (Reebok), Chicago's Scottie Pippen (Nike),
and Philadelphia 76er Allen Iverson (Reebok). Iverson has done jail time and is
famous for employing his talent in awe-inspiring ways that do his team little
good. And humility is not his specialty. When he won the Rookie of the Year
Award this month, he said: "I thought the award should go to the person who had
the biggest impact. I know we only won 22 games [out of 82] but if you look at
impact players as a rookie, I thought I had the greatest impact." Reebok,
enchanted by Iverson's charisma, has designed a new shoe in his honor.
Reebok is
fast displacing Nike as the Darth Vader of the shoe world. Reebok sponsors, and
thus elevates, Shaquille O'Neal, a huge mass of self-absorption whose teams,
like Iverson's, seldom fulfill expectations. O'Neal's Lakers just got blown out
of the playoffs by perhaps the most suburban (and ethnically whitest) team in
the league, the Utah Jazz--whose black superstar, Karl Malone, is another good
citizen and great player who gets dissed by the shoe companies. O'Neal, like
Iverson, in the average job interview.
Obviously, it's easy for me to complain about
players who aren't big on self-effacement or deference to authority. My
ancestors weren't slaves. I didn't spend my teens being viewed by merchants and
cops as a likely shoplifter. Maybe in that sense, the behavior of the Pippens
and Iversons of the world is defensible. But when that behavior is in some
small way helping to keep young blacks trapped in poverty, defending it is not
the liberal thing to do. Certainly celebrating it isn't. (And, beyond a
point, defending it is patronizing.)
Nike CEO
Phil Knight likes to pose as capitalism with a human face, a man devoted to
social justice. Witness Knight's ostentatious donation to the legal-defense
fund of blue-collar skater/thug Tonya Harding. (Since Nike doesn't make
ice-skating equipment, that's the closest Knight could come to subsidizing that
sport's biggest asshole.) Well, let's see Knight truly put his money where his
mouth is. Pick a great basketball role model, put him on a pedestal, and let
the financial chips fall where they may. (No, Michael Jordan as a great role
model.)
Abit of genuine morality at Nike (or Reebok or Converse)
needn't be vastly expensive. Surely Madison Avenue has enough brains to make a
Hakeem ad--or a Clyde Drexler ad, or a Malone ad--that appeals to inner-city
kids. Remember, I'm not asking for "Just Say No" ads or any other form of
moralism. Those don't work anyway. On the contrary, I'm asking for ads that
make their stars look cool, thus boosting the prominence of athletes who, in
their on-court conduct and post-game interviews, are good influences. And I'm
asking that a shoe company's elevation of someone like Iverson become a source
of stigma among socially conscious shoe buyers. Let's have a real boycott!
Which companies to boycott? A
tough call, since no shoe company with a big-name hoops line is wholly without
blame. For now, is that we start with Nike and Reebok and let Converse off with
a stern warning, since Dennis Rodman is its first major offense. And remember:
We're boycotting not just hoops shoes, but running shoes, hiking boots,
sweatpants, socks. The Nike and Reebok logos are now officially declared badges
of shame. Of course, it will be hard, with those two companies dominating the
shelf space of every Foot Locker, to sniff out Brooks, Saucony, Asics, Fila, or
New Balance. But go ahead. Just do it.
