Philly’s Hoop History Commemorated

This week, Larry Needle, Executive Director of the Philadelphia Sports Congress and author of Homecourt: The True Story of the Best Basketball Team You’ve Never Heard Of, a new children’s book about Red Klotz and the SPHAS, writes about hoop dreams and memories.

With the unveiling of a historic marker commemorating the legendary SPHAS basketball team at the site of the old Broadwood Hotel April 14, the hoop memories run deep.

Memories of the SPHAS (South Philadelphia Hebrew Association) teams of the first half of the 20^th century, who made the Broadwood their home and helped to show the world that an all-Jewish basketball team could compete with the very best in the land.

Memories of “the Mogul,” Eddie Gottlieb, who founded the team in 1917 and coached them to multiple championships in the Eastern League and American Basketball League over three decades (including seven titles in 13 years from 1933-1946), before going on to be one of the founders of the NBA and owner of the Philadelphia Warriors NBA franchise.

Memories of the SPHAS winning in the toughest of environments, against nasty, often anti-Semitic crowds, in gyms from Cleveland to Brooklyn, and Harlem to Trenton.

Of course, there was the scene at the Broadwood every Saturday night in the 1930s and ‘40s, fans dressed to the nines for the game and the dance that followed on the court immediately afterwards, with SPHAS player turned bandleader Gil Fitch often playing both roles.

Men paid 65 cents for their tickets and women 35 cents.  Hot dogs were a dime.  During games, another legend in the making, PA announcer Dave Zinkoff, would give away a salami and a $20 suit to Gerson’s department store.

And there were, of course, the SPHAS players. Names like Lou Forman, Shikey Gotthofer, Cy Kaselman, Inky Lautman, and Temple legend Harry Litwack.  And of course there was Red Klotz.

Growing up in South Philly, Red’s legendary set shot would help lead him on a career from South Philadelphia High School to Villanova University, and championships with the SPHAS in 1942 and the NBA’s Baltimore Bullets in 1948.

At 5-7, he was usually the shortest player on the team, but that didn’t begin to measure his heart or his passion for the sport of basketball.  Because that NBA championship wasn’t the end of his basketball career, it was merely the beginning.

Red would go on the become the founder and owner (as well as player and coach) of the Washington Generals, the team that would play foil to the Harlem Globetrotters over the next 60 years.  He became one of the sport’s great ambassadors, bringing basketball and smiles to millions of people around the globe, as well as lessons of sportsmanship and tolerance.

Of course, his legacy of winning would turn to one of losing; more than ten thousand games of losing in fact, but always with dignity and grace.  Of course, there was the exception, that one night in Martin, Tennessee, when Red hit the jumper to seal the Generals last recorded win against the Globetrotters in 1971.

Globetrotters legend Curly Neal recently said this about Red: “He may have been on the losing end of the scoreboard many nights, but the laughs and thrills that we brought to audiences all over the world is what makes Red a winner every single day. “  He called Red “the little giant with the timeless two-handed set shot and game-winning smile.”

Despite Red’s phenomenal career and contributions to the sport of basketball, he has yet to be honored by the Basketball Hall of Fame.  Just this week, the 2013 inductee class was announced, and Red was again sadly denied his rightful spot in the Hall.

Red is now 92, and lives with his wife Gloria in Margate, surrounded by family, friends and rooms full of basketball memories that he helped to create.

Of course, there is still room on the shelf for the one missing piece; what should be the crowning achievement to a career dedicated to playing the game the right way, and teaching those lessons to countless players, coaches and fans over the decades.

Red’s story is one of many in an incredible legacy created by the SPHAS, a legacy that will forever be honored with the new historic marker.

March Madness: Looking back at an infamous NCAA game

In this blog entry, Gregory Kaliss, author of Men’s College Athletics and the Politics of Racial Equality writes about an infamous NCAA tournament game.

Next week, the Dallas metropolitan area will host the South regional of the men’s NCAA basketball tournament, the first time since 1994 that the area will host these later-round games. But many may not realize that the city’s involvement with the tournament has deeper roots, and one of the most famous—or, really, infamous—regional final weekends in tournament history took place in Dallas in 1957.

That year, the regional semifinals featured teams from Southern Methodist University, Oklahoma City University (OCU), St. Louis University, and the University of Kansas—whose star sophomore Wilt Chamberlain made the Jayhawks the odds-on favorite to win the national championship. There was only one problem for Chamberlain and his KU teammates—he and senior guard Maurice King were black in a region unaccustomed to hosting integrated sports competitions. The responses to the integrated KU team—from fans, opposing players, and the media alike—undermined the idea of sports providing a “level playing field” for racial equality.

The first sign of the team’s unwelcome came in the form of their housing—unlike the other teams, who stayed in downtown Dallas hotels, the Jayhawks booked rooms in Grand Prairie, where they took their meals in a private room because no restaurant would serve an integrated squad. Although Chamberlain, because of his celebrity, had been able to eat anywhere he liked in the still-segregated town of Lawrence, Kansas, racial lines mattered more in Texas.

The team’s reception on the court was even worse. In the team’s first game in Dallas, they struggled to a hard-earned overtime win over SMU, as a hostile crowd verbally abused the Kansas players and threw trash and other objects at them. According to Chamberlain, the fans “booed and jeered” and used a variety of derogatory terms, including “‘nigger’ and ‘jigaboo’ and ‘spook’ and a lot of other things that weren’t nearly that nice.” Pleased to escape with the win, which they earned in part because King had blocked a last-second shot in regulation, the KU players assumed the worst was over, since the hometown SMU team had been eliminated.

They were wrong. In fact, the team’s second game against OCU involved even worse crowd behavior. Dallas fans, outraged that an integrated team had defeated their school, switched allegiance to OCU and continued to taunt and harass the KU squad. To make matters worse, Oklahoma City coach Abe Lemmons and several of his players participated in the unruly behavior. Before the game, Lemmons warned referee Al Lightner that there would be problems “if that big nigger [Chamberlain] piles onto any of my kids.”

As Kansas pulled away to a convincing victory in the second half, the chaos became even more intense. Not even pleading from the SMU athletic director and other public officials could calm the outraged fans, who threw a variety of objects, including coins, paper airplanes, seat cushions, and food, onto the court. After the game, an armed cadre of police officers led the team off the court and traveled with them to the airport.

The media refrained from condemning, or even describing, these events. Hardly a word about the abuse suffered by Chamberlain and King made it into the press immediately following the contest. Acknowledgment of the game’s racial dynamics occurred only after the game’s referee, a resident of Oregon, complained about the racial epithets and violent behavior. But even then, most newspapers distanced themselves from the controversy, refusing to take a stand. In doing so, they prevented these sports contests from having larger meanings outside the arena; they did not use these games as opportunities to consider the many consequences of segregation and racism.

On the surface, the story of the 1957 Dallas regional final is a painful curiosity, a relic of a different era when Jim Crow reigned supreme. But the media silence surrounding the events is a reminder that silence can condone injustice, that dialogue is the first step towards creating social change. Sports can bring out the worst in us, as the response to the Jayhaws shows, but if we encourage meaningful dialogue when we talk about sports, they can also bring us together. Let us hope for that outcome, no matter the teams in the upcoming tournament.

Short leashes

In this blog entry, reprinted from his website, www.chuckfinder.com,  The Steelers Encyclopedia author Chuck Finder responds to the recent changes in the Steelers’ lineup.

When the Steelers appeared so unSteelers-like last April in picking up Mike Adams and Chris Rainey and their baggage, people wondered.

When fellow rookie Alameda Ta’amu was arrested early in the season on a dozen charges related to drunk driving, eyebrows raised.

The actions of Thursday proved one thing: The Steelers accept only so much baggage on their plane.

The club ridded itself of Rainey Thursday after he was charged in Gainesville, Fla., with battery against a woman — the second such arrest for Rainey in two years’ time. Upon drafting him last April, after checking with the same Maurkice Pouncey who lived with Rainey for a time, the Steelers talked about second chances and examining closely a player’s behavior, personality and makeup. On Thursday, Steelers General Manager Kevin Colbert was quoted in a news release: “Chris Rainey’s actions this morning were extremely disappointing. Under the circumstances and due to this conduct, Chris will no longer be a member of the Pittsburgh Steelers.”

Adams, who personally begged the Steelers for forgiveness for testing for marijuana at last February’s NFL Combine, got an opportunity with them — although he had to meet unspecified “conditions.”

Ta’amu got a second chance after his arrest and wound up on the practice squad, though he never played a 2012 game. However, it was his second DUI arrest since 2009, the other coming while at the University of Washington.

Rainey’s second arrest — this on simple battery — cost him his Steelers place. No matter his 1,035 yards in kickoff returns and opportunity to move into a larger 2013 role if, as expected, Rashard Mendenhall isn’t re-signed.

The Steelers will have to make qualifying offers to leading rusher Jonathan Dwyer and Isaac Redman, and figure to do so with both restricted free agents. Expect them to locate another back, though perhaps not expending a high draft pick on one. They played most of last season almost exclusively with that pair, a sixth-round pick and an undrafted free-agent.

Most important, though, is the off-the-field standard: Second, or third, chances end at violence, or even the arrest/charge for it. Leash lengths may vary, but they don’t seem long, do they?

* If the Jets nab Omar Khan as general manager, man, it’s a bad time to be $10 million-plus over the Steelers’ cap. He made their abacus hum, their calculators smoke. . . and the pieces fit.

* If Todd Haley gets the Arizona Cardinals head coaching job, and interesting how his Kansas City term increasingly looks better in hindsight, here’s an interesting name as a possible offensive-coordinator replacement: No, not Ken Whisenhunt. . . not sure that would work with Ben Roethlisberger and even Mike Tomlin. (Good for Wiz if he gets the Browns job.) Rather, how about. . . Mike Mularkey? He’s a onetime Steelers player, a former tight ends coach and still one of the best offensive coordinators (2001-03) the club has employed in the past generation. In fact, Wiz admitted he learned a bunch from Mularkey, fired Thursday after one season as Jacksonville’s head coach.

* Dan Rooney will lose the “emertius” title and return to his chairmanship with the Steelers, the Post-Gazette reported. Sounds as if he’s ready to go back to work.

The female phenomenon in sports

In this blog entry, Sportista co-author Andy Markovits considers how women have become a significant fanbase at sporting events and how they have attained virtual parity with men.

NBC’s viewership for the London Olympics was nothing short of amazing. On a number of evenings, around 30 million Americans tuned in to watch this global event. At least half of these viewers were women.  With our Olympic team featuring more female than male athletes for the first time in history; and with the former winning a majority of the medals (including gold); women seem to have arrived on sports scene, until recently a decidedly male domain.

But how will this phenomenon carry over into the just-commencing college football and NFL seasons and does it have any bearing on the pennant races in MLB that are about to heat up across the land?

Our book Sportisa: Female Fandom in the United States sheds some light on precisely these questions. We argue that on sports’ production side – meaning the world of athletes – women have attained virtual parity with men. Almost solely due to the immense changes wrought by Title IX and the political, social and cultural atmosphere that gave rise to it; women’s success in having made their presence as sports producers totally ordinary is quite amazing, especially considering where things stood nary three decades ago.

But “doing” sports and “following” them are two (almost entirely) different things. And we found that women follow sports differently than men. Still fewer in numbers, women that follow sports love their teams, know their players, despair over a loss, rejoice with a win; in short appear to exhibit all the fan-like characteristics that men have displayed since the late 19^th century. But rare is still the woman who revels in spouting obscure statistics pertaining to all of the North American Big Four sports past and present; who knows line ups of teams which she has never seen and which might not even exist any longer; who, in short, is a sports omnivore to whom knowledge of (usually team) sports is at least as important as passion for them; and to whom performing such sports may actually be irrelevant (possibly even counterproductive) to their loving and following them.

But such women exist as well, and in increasing numbers by the day. We chose to call them “sportistas” analogous to “fashionistas” denoting a person who not only loves fashion but is also profoundly knowledgeable about it. Thus, our sportista loves her sports and also knows them.  Alas, neither of these attributes suffices for her to be seen as an equal to her much more numerous male counterparts. Men continue to regard sports as their own domain where women are little more than tolerated intruders. They may learn the stuff, know it well, but somehow will remain outsiders, tolerated to be sure, but not seen as truly authentic. To be sure, a rare group of women attain such authenticity – and thus full acceptance and membership in the club – after having passed countless non-specific but very real “tests” that men place in their path by constantly raising an ill-defined bar. As we argue at our book’s end, women have come to learn the language of sports perfectly, but they will continue to speak it with an accent that may not even be discernible to them, but remain all the more so to men.

Thus, while women have come to follow events like the Olympics, the Super Bowl, the World Series and others outwardly just like men, the two genders’ involvement in the quotidian manifestations of the few team sports that constitute what we have termed “hegemonic sports culture” – meaning the Big Four of baseball, football, basketball and ice hockey in the United States; ice hockey in Canada; soccer in Europe and Latin America; cricket and various rugby codes in South Africa, Australia and New Zealand – remains well apart. Thus, in the next few months of this post-Olympic period, women will passionately follow their favorite NFL team, root for their college team, and hope that their baseball team wins the pennant and the World Series. But the way they will do so, and the deeper meaning of this activity, will be quite different from that of men’s.  

Andrei S. Markovits is Arthur F. Thurnau Professor and the Karl W. Deutsch Collegiate Professor of Comparative Politics and German Studies at the University of Michigan. He has published prolifically on German and European politics, and sports. His latest book is Gaming the World: How Sports Are Reshaping Global Politics and Culture.

Honoring a famous Olympian gold medalist

With the Summer Olympics starting in London this Friday, we repost our Q&A with 1968 Olympic Gold Medal winner and co-author (with David Steele) of Silent Gesture, Tommie Smith.

Q: Congratulations on your book. Why did you wait almost 40 years to tell your story?

A: My life wasn’t ready to be told in story until there was a closure with my athletic, teaching, and coaching career. The time I needed to devote to such an adventure was too great. You have to begin somewhere to be great. The race began in 1968 and now it is time to tell the journey of “how did I get to this race, and where did I go when it was over?”

Q: You say you “never regretted” your actions on the victory stand, “and never will”—that it was, as you write—“something I felt I had no choice in doing.” Did you think at the time that your protest would become one of the most famous protests in sports history?

A: I do not feel remorseful about the act on the victory stand as it was an act of “faith.” Because I believe in “hope” for our changing society, the evidence of non-equality had to be challenged. At the time, my “visual” on the victory stand was not thought of as a portrait to be classified as a picture of history, but as a cry for freedom.

Q: Do you think that such a protest could take place now?

A: Making the same gesture now is defeat; let us repeat the cry with sounds of understanding and deliverance.

Q: Can you briefly describe the Olympic Project for Human Rights and discuss your participation in it?

A: The Olympic Project for Human Rights was a non-violent platform used in the athletic arena as a cry for freedom. It originated on the San JoseStateUniversity campus in 1967. I was one athlete who chose to involve myself for the human rights issues. 

Q: You and your family received death threats and hate mail before and after Mexico City. Were you prepared for this? How did you handle living in fear?

A: My family received hate mail and death threats which altered our daily routine, but we had to continue to remain calm and socially aware. There are still some [people] who do not change and there are some who have made progress.

Q: You have been “forever linked” with John Carlos (Bronze medal winner at the 1968 Mexico City games) on and off since the Olympics. How has your relationship with him been over the years since your “silent gesture”?

A: I had not known John Carlos until my senior year in college, in 1967. Since then, my response to John has been a respectful acquaintance.

Q: You talk about how San Jose State welcomed you back and dedicated a statue to you and John Carlos. How have attitudes towards you—and your actions—changed over time?

A: When I returned to the San JoseStateUniversity for the statue dedication, attitudes were fresh, warm and respectful. The student body and administration was knowledgeable and unafraid in their quest to identify pioneers from the past and ideally, former students such as John Carlos and me.

Q: You have worked as a track & field coach and talk about your coaches in Silent Gesture. Do you have any particular mentors and coaches that influenced you?

A: There are two coaches in my past that I will forever remember because of their knowledge and their social attitude. They were positive “in the time of need.” Lloyd C. “Bud” Winter, my college coach and Bill Walsh, my professional football area coach with the Cincinnati Bengals.

Q: Silent Gesture dispels the rumors that you were a member of the Black Panthers. Your book also clears the record that the Mexico City Olympic Committee did not take for your medals back, or throw you out of the Olympic Village. Can you discuss these rumors?

A: Tommie Smith has never been a Black Panther. I am still in possession of my gold medal—I won the race fair and square, and so the medal is mine. I stayed in the Olympic Village until the race was over, and I returned the next day to get my belongings. As I was leaving, the press was everywhere, so kicking me out of the Olympic Village was a “helpful exit.”

Q: I understand at one point in time you were interested in selling your medals. Is that true? Why did you consider this?

A: I will answer a question with a question…Can you find a Humanitarian donor for $500,000?

Q: You are a hero to many for your actions—who were your heroes?  

A: Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., a man who had a Dream of Freedom and Equality, and my father, Richard Smith, who taught me pain is obvious, but how you react is not.

Q: What do you think your legacy will be?

A: I want to leave a legacy that says, “Tommie Smith was a Man who also had a Dream and a Vision and his Standing was not in vain.”

In Memoriam: David Wangerin

Amy Bass, editor of Temple University Press‘ Sporting series, remembers the late David Wangerin, author of Soccer in a Football World and Distant Corners.

I was on Twitter when I came across the news that David Wangerin died.  I had been combing tweets for news on the U.S. swimming, gymnastics, and track trials, reading occasional editorials about the Supreme Court’s ruling on health care, and, admittedly, boning up on the breakup of Tom and Katie.  And then I read a tweet about David from Sports Illustrated senior writer Grant Wahl, who included a link to the obituary published by Major League Soccer Talk. 

On Wahl’s Facebook page, soccer fans expressed condolences as well as their admiration for David’s work, with statements such as “he needs to be in the Hall of Fame” and “he was a tremendous resource in the American soccer community.”  Perhaps best summarizing Wangerin’s legacy, one fan posted: “A loss to those of us who love the history of the game. He connected the dots with his deep knowledge, bringing to light the rich tradition of soccer in the US. In Fife, at Raith Rovers, the Kingdom is now playing one short.”

David’s work first came to my attention when Temple’s executive editor, Micah Kleit, sent me a copy of Soccer in a Football World, published in the United Kingdom.  I tore through it, my jaw dropping frequently at the story he told of soccer in America.  I, like so many others, had always thought of soccer as a more recent drive-the-kids-to-their-game-this-Saturday sort of sport.  Americans left the fanaticism and hooliganism over the beautiful game to the rest of the world while baseball and (American) football and basketball took up all the headlines.  David, born and raised in the Midwest, lived abroad to satiate his love of what was largely seen in the U.S. as a “minority sport,” describing himself as “a soccer fan born in the wrong country at nearly the wrong time.”  Balancing his fandom with his serious research and writing skills, David’s book powerfully altered the way in which soccer fits within the context of the history of American sport.  

Needless to say, I wanted the book, badly.  Temple published it in the spring of 2008 in my series, Sporting, giving it an even larger audience than it already had.  We followed suit with his next effort, Distant Corners, which continues his track of diving into the ebb and flow of soccer’s popularity in the United States, giving us characters such as Thomas William Cahill, the nearly forgotten “father of American soccer”; the importance of St. Louis in developing the so-called American style; and thrilling detail of the 1979 season of the North American Soccer League.  Library Journal declared, “The seventh book in Temple’s ‘Sporting’ series is one of the best recently published soccer books.” I heartily agreed:  the book was both a treasure trove of rarely – if ever – told stories as well as a telling statement on why soccer’s popularity continues to lag behind here.

The loss of David is enormous.  When I asked Wahl – the most important soccer journalist in America – to comment, he simply stated “He left us far too soon.”  And he did.  And while it feels cliché to write that his work will live on, it is true, as that is one of the great legacies of great writing.  He changed forever how we view soccer in this country, giving us narratives that began far before David Beckham ever set foot in Los Angeles.  And it was a privilege to be part of that work.

Dr. Amy Bass is Professor of History, at The College of New Rochelle and Editor, of Temple University Press’ Sporting series.

Commemorating the 40th anniversary of the Title IX decision

This week, recent voices reflect on the impact of Title IX following the 40th anniversary of this landmark decision. Here are some interviews, opinions, and articles on the effects of ending sex discrimination on federally funded education programs.

Nation Public Radio’s Scott Simon, host of Weekend Edition, talked to Nancy Hogshead-Makar, co-editor of  Equal Play (Temple University Press) about the impact of the law that opened competitive sports to millions of American girls and women.

 Listen to the interview here: http://www.npr.org/2012/06/23/155622564/in-sports-opportunities-women-still-lag

 

The Chronicle of Higher Education published two pieces this month on Title IX.

Title IX at 40: Have Colleges Done Enough?

 By Welch Suggs

Sometime in 2002, while working as a reporter, I was on the phone with an athletics director talking about Title IX. He asked to go off the record—and proceeded to vent.

He understood Title IX, the 1972 amendment to the Higher Education Act that forbade sex discrimination at institutions receiving federal funds. He got it. But what could institutions do if there simply weren’t enough women interested in playing sports at the college level? His daughters had played sports happily as elementary-school students, but after they turned 12, their and their friends’ interests turned elsewhere. What more should he do?

To read more of this article, visit http://chronicle.com/article/Title-IX-at-40-Have-Colleges/132581/

40 Years of Title IX: Leadership Matters for Women in Academe

By Yvette M. Alex-Assensoh

Forty years ago this month, Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 became law, requiring an end to gender discrimination in admissions at educational institutions that receive federal money. Since then, progress in attaining gender equity for women has been heartening, but there is still considerable work to be done, particularly in the areas of faculty and leadership.

In the 1980s—in little more than the blink of an eye—women surpassed men in admissions on most college campuses. And now, unlike their parents and grandparents, these women are increasingly likely to be taught by women. This is good news, and we have Title IX to thank.

To read more of this article, visit  http://chronicle.com/article/40-Years-of-Title-IX-/132311/

The Nation published this piece last week:

Don’t Like Sports? Three Other Reasons to Be a Fan of Title IX

By Bryce Covert

This Saturday marked the fortieth anniversary of Title IX, the civil rights law that prohibits discrimination in education on the basis of sex. To say I’m not sporty may be an understatement. True story: I fulfilled my high school team sport requirement with a short-lived stint on the bowling team, during which I devoted more attention to my calculus homework than to perfecting my strikes and spares. I am about as likely to hit a baseball as to hit the lotto jackpot. I am far from a poster child for the common perception of a Title IX beneficiary: one of the girls who entered school sports in droves. The number of girls participating in sports in elementary and secondary schools rose from 295,000 the year Title IX was enacted to 3.2 million in the last school year.

But there’s a lot more to love about the law than the paths it cleared for women of the sporty persuasion. If you’re like me and not a fan of what Mitt Romney and I call “sport,” here are some other great reasons to be on board—and push for enforcement of the law to go even further:

To read more of this article, please visit: http://www.thenation.com/blog/168553/dont-sports-three-other-reasons-be-fan-title-ix?rel=emailNation

 

Consuming Jeremy Lin: Centering Race in Professional Basketball

In this blog post, Kathleen Yep, author of Outside the Paint: When Basketball Ruled at the Chinese Playground puts Lin-sanity in context.

As a former basketball player and as an Asian American, I am inspired by Jeremy Lin’s recent athletic showcase. On February 4th, the Taiwanese-American Jeremy Lin, exploded on the National Basketball Association’s (NBA) stage. He came off the bench to score 25 points and lead the New York Knicks to a comeback win over the Nets. The undrafted, twice-cut NBA player, Lin started the next eight games, scoring over twenty points a game including an astounding 38 points against Kobe Bryant and the Lakers.

In the last weeks, Lin has captured the imagination of the United States and of basketball fans around the world. Thousands of newspaper articles, facebook posts, and blogs are reflecting/producing dominant narratives of sport, race, and masculinity through the phenomenon of “Linsanity.” On the heels of his meteoric stardom, the sports-industrial complex is poised to sell the transnational product of Jeremy Lin as evidenced by  Adidas creating a jersey targeting the China market.

As a sociologist, I am intrigued by the media and fan frenzy dubbed “Linsanity.” Touted as the ultimate “American” story, Lin is hailed by the mainstream media as the underdog who quietly toiled under the radar to find an unexpected entry to the big stage. Tucked within this “Linderella” narrative is the notion of sport as a metaphor for “American” liberal multiculturalism and meritocracy. With this color-blind framework, sports commentators, NBA athletes and fans declare Lin as “simply” a basketball player. But here is the elephant in the room: denying the role of racialization in Lin’s circuitous journey in the NBA is a part of the broader project of centering race. In the predominant black-white frame of the NBA, a “post-racial” framing of Lin as “just an athlete” or “one of the guys” works in concert with the racialized rhetoric of Lin as the model minority or model Christian, Ivy-league educated athlete. The liberal multiculturalist framework of not seeing his skin color elides the the hyperracialization of simultaneously touting him as a hero as a Chinese American and questioning his media attention because his athletic achievements supposedly do not warrant this scale of coverage (read: the media are inflating his alleged average play because he is Chinese.)

The social construction of Linsanity resonates with the sports discourse about Chinese American basketball players in the first half of the twentieth century. Outside the Paint explores the politics of sport in relation to Chinese American female and male basketball players in the 1930s and 1940s in San Francisco. Discussing a playground, a professional men’s basketball team, the first Chinese American to play at Madison Square Garden, and championship women players, the book explores themes that echo today’s construction and consumption of Jeremy Lin. Seventy years prior to “Linsanity,” the first and only Chinese American men’s professional basketball team, the Hong Wah Kues, traveled around the country playing teams like the white Bearded Aces, the Harlem Globetrotters and a Native American team in the late 1930s.

Similar to the media coverage of Lin, the spectacle in the 1930s was the unexpectedness of Chinese Americans as talented basketball players. Similar to today’s frenzy over Jeremy Lin, there were multiple currents of consumption in the late 1930s from not only the mostly non-Asian American spectators but also the Chinese American communities on the basketball tour. The invisible and marginalized Chinese Americans in the 1930s marveled at the visibility of players who looked like them. In 2012, Lin’s transcendence into a popular culture hero validates the vast network of Asian American players and basketball leagues that have thrived for over one hundred years. Similar to the debates about whether Lin is getting attention because he is a novelty, the 1930s Chinese Americans professional basketball players moved the usually black-white discourses around sport to the interplay of Chineseness, blackness, and whiteness.

So, when I jump on the “Linsanity” bandwagon–I am going to buy a Lin jersey for my father’s birthday–it is challenging to separate the racial and gendered depictions of the 1930s Chinese American basketball players with today. And it is challenging to separate the pleasure of watching a great Chinese American basketball player burst onto the NBA scene from the problematic discourses that homogenize and celebrate all Asian Americans as the model-minority who do not confront poverty, underemployment, residential and linguistic segregation and challenges as immigrants. This is a crucial moment to shift the conversation: instead of debating whether or not race is involved with Linsanity, we explore how race in sport is constructed through the interplay of Asianness, blackness, and whiteness. How does the sports-industrial complex simultaneously circulate colorblind and hyperracialized rhetoric about African American, Chinese American, and white players? How are these circulations similar and different for the various racial groups yet part of a similar mechanism?

Can Victims of a Scandal Find Closure?

In this blog entry, Nancy Berns, author of Closure addresses the Penn State scandal.

Hoping that victims will find “closure” in the Penn State sex abuse scandal is wrong. Using the concept of closure helps those responsible for the harm; it doesn’t help victims. What does “closure for victims” really mean when used in these political and criminal cases?

Jerry Sandusky, former assistant football coach at Penn State University, is facing multiple sexual assault charges for molesting many young boys. The grand jury report lays out damaging evidence and outrageous details regarding these criminal acts. And those who knew about these crimes failed to take proper action. They did not view the children worthy enough to risk reputations and jobs.

In 2002, a graduate assistant witnessed Sandusky raping a child, approximately 10 years old, in the shower of an athletic facility. The witness was Mike McQueary, former Penn State quarterback and current receivers coach. After seeing the sexual assault still in progress, McQueary called his father who told him to leave the building immediately. So he did nothing to stop the assault and help the child. After waiting a day, McQueary and his father told Paterno about Sandusky. Paterno (after waiting another day) told university officials. A week and a half later, these officials talked to McQueary and then banned Sandusky from campus. Basically this action says, “We’re not going to stop your sexual assault of children, but please do not do it on campus.” None of these people called the police. None of them tried to find out who the boy was and what help he needed.

Not long after witnessing the sexual assault, McQueary was promoted. He eventually became an assistant coach.  Did this job come with the pressure to remain silent?

People are starting to resign and more will surely follow. Reports indicate that Joe Paterno will announce his retirement today. But the problems of sexual assault and bystander silence are much larger than Penn State.  It is not clear whether our society will seize this moment to understand and change the cultural attitudes that allow this abuse to happen. Unfortunately, the calls for “closure” will only inhibit any ongoing conversation.  And that is a travesty for victims.

Victims of sexual assault do not get closure. Effects from abuse stay with people the rest of their lives.  This does not mean that victims cannot go on to have successful and beautiful lives.  Many do.  But they still carry the pain from the abuse. Other victims don’t recover but are lost to severe depression, drugs, or suicide.

We want to believe victims can find closure. Don’t misunderstand what I mean. Victims can heal and learn to live with the experience.  But when we fool ourselves into thinking they have “closure,” then the devastating, long-term effects of abuse do not stay in the conversation.

The undergraduate student body president at Penn State, TJ Bard, released a statement calling for closure: “I believe that the well-being of the victims and closure for all involved should be the top priority.” He has no idea what those victims experienced, and how they continue to manage the abuse. In calling for closure (for ALL involved), Bard is saying that having this story “go away” would be good, especially for Penn State’s reputation.

McQueary’s father wants the case to be resolved, so his son can move on. What will help the young boys who were molested?  What will prevent future abuse? What will make bystanders do more to stop the abuse?

Rather than seeking closure, we need to talk about what we value in our society. Using the misguided idea of “closure for victims” shifts attention away from the perpetrators and the gut-wrenching cultural truths about sexual abuse that we need to face. There should not be closure to this case.  Seeking closure to the case is what the university coaches and officials have been doing for years.

Remembering The SPHAS, basketball pioneers who made today’s game what it is

Douglas Stark, author of The SPHAS, describes an earlier period in basketball history, when collective bargaining, salary cap and revenue sharing were not in the vocabulary.

At this time of the year, football dominates the water cooler conversation as we head into late fall and early winter. Did you see that game yesterday? Can you believe that bad call that cost the game for that team? How did your fantasy team do? From the serious to the casual fan, football is an indelible part of how we spend the fall. Everyone is a Monday morning quarterback.

For me, this time of year always signals the beginning of the basketball season; one that starts in early November and goes through June (hopefully if my Boston Celtics are still playing). My body clock seems to wake up in mid-October as NBA training camp starts. A new season is just around the corner.

This year the conversation centers on the collective bargaining sessions between the NBA owners and players union. Instead of hearing about the surprise player in training camp or whether the team’s defense will improve, the news is about salary caps, revenue sharing, and the cancellation of games. Ultimately it is about how to split a lot of money equitably. These conversations are part of the sporting landscape in the twenty-first century and no sport is immune.

My hope is that these talks can be resolved shortly and everyone’s attention can turn to the game and the players. In recent weeks, my mind has wandered to an earlier period in basketball history when collective bargaining, salary cap and revenue sharing were not in the vocabulary. I have been thinking about the game’s pioneers, most specifically the SPHAS.

The SPHAS, South Philadelphia Hebrew Association, were born in 1918 as a club team and continued playing until 1959. The team’s growth paralleled the development of the game from a club sports to barnstorming to professional game.  The team’s best years were in the 1930s. The team was all Jewish then and overcame the Depression, anti-Semitism, and a World War to propel the game’s growth to a new generation.

As one can imagine, the business of basketball eighty years ago was different. The SPHAS often carried seven players during the season. NBA teams routinely have 15 players under contract. Eddie Gottlieb was the coach, manager, General Manager, and general overseer of all things SPHAS. Contrast that to today when NBA teams have 5-7 assistant coaches sitting on the bench. One is focused on offense, one on defense, one monitors the clock and player foul situations, and one works with the big men and another is focused on the guards. Today the game is highly specialized.

Travel was certainly different. The SPHAS either all piled into Gottlieb’s car or took the train. It was not until the 1950s that NBA teams starting flying. Each NBA team today has a private airplane outfitted with plush seats, televisions, and full service dining. NBA players never see their luggage as they are transported from one city to another.

The money was different then. Very different. Gottlieb signed the players to one year contracts. He paid the players per game. When Joel (Shikey) Gotthoffer started playing for the SPHAS in 1933-1934, he made $35.00 a game. Ten years later, he was one of the highest paid players at $100.00 a game. Gottlieb had a habit of playing his players in cash before the game. If they lost, he had a harder time paying up. As many of the players noted, Gottlieb always kept his word and paid his players.

Earning money playing basketball was a bonus, a little extra spending money the players could take home to their families. They could not earn a living playing basketball and many had full time jobs to support themselves. It is why the games were played on the weekend.

And because these early leagues were weekend leagues, teams did not practice as much as they do today. Players played on their own merits and if a player was not doing his job properly, he was taken out and replaced. The team was the focus. Players passed the ball around until a good shot materialized. Bad shots were frowned upon. Played were expected to keep their opponents from scoring.

It was a different game, but as the NBA owners and players work toward an agreement, hopefully they will take a moment to pause and remember the game’s pioneers like the SPHAS who made today’s game what it is.