Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.
When I moved to Fort Myers, Fla., in 2000 to write a thrice-weekly sports column, I quickly learned that the city’s most famous athlete had a rocky relationship with his hometown and the local media.
Deion Sanders was born and raised in that city, once deemed America’s most segregated, where the railroad depot kept whites and Blacks separated into the 1970s. Back in town while starring at Florida State in the mid-’80s, Sanders was arrested at a mall for allegedly trying to steal. He was arrested again in Fort Myers — in 1996 when he played for the Dallas Cowboys — for trespassing and fishing on a private lake at the airport.
He generally never trusted city leaders, the cops or the media.
That’s the default position for Black men in this country, understandably so considering American history. When you’re a flashy generational talent with the showmanship to match prodigious athleticism, and you’re raised in pockets of poverty amidst traditional Deep South racism, your skepticism might tend to increase. While Sanders has grown into a marketing marvel and top corporate pitchman since leaving Tallahassee, the game remains an us vs. them proposition.
You’re either with him or you’re the enemy; there’s no in-between.
Colorado, which opens its season Thursday night, went all in when it hired Sanders as its head football coach, giving him the wheel and strapping in for the ride. The destination might be uncertain but there’s no question who’s driving the bus. And Sanders wants to run over a local sportswriter he apparently can’t stand.
“After a series of sustained, personal attacks on the football program and specifically Coach Prime, the CU Athletic Department in conjunction with the football program, have decided not to take questions from Denver Post columnist Sean Keeler at football-related events,” the athletic department said last week in a statement.
Keeler doesn’t appear to be fond of Sanders, whom he’s referred to in various columns as “Deposition Deion,” the “Bruce Lee of B.S.” and a “false prophet.” Colorado’s football program has been dragged, too, labeled as “Planet Prime,” “the Deion Kool-Aid” and “circus.”
Those takes might be over-the-top depending on your perspective. Fans of New York City teams and athletes have seen worse in the Big Apple’s tabloids. But Keeler’s critiques aren’t unique. Sanders’ brash and braggadocious personal style has created hordes of detractors over time, climaxing last year in his first season at Colorado. He rebuilt the program in his own flashy image and was the rage of college football when the Buffaloes won three of their first four games. But haters had the last laugh as CU lost its final six games to finish at 4-8.
Sanders’ prickly side in media relations was displayed in 1992 when he tried to make history by playing in an NFL and MLB game on the same day. Baseball broadcaster Tim McCarver criticized the decision, and Sanders aggressively doused him with ice water afterward in the Atlanta Braves’ locker room. His petty nature showed itself again in 2021, when he coached Jackson State and a local reporter was banned after a story about assault charges against an incoming recruit. Now Colorado is doing Sanders’ bidding in his relationship with Keeler.
“Keeler is still permitted to attend football-related activities as a credentialed member of the media and other reporters from the Denver Post are welcome to ask questions of football program personnel made available to the media, including coaches, players and staff,” the school said in its statement.
Colorado has unnecessarily rushed to Sanders’ defense as if he’s too weak to handle Keeler on his own. Sanders can answer or refuse to answer anyone’s questions as he sees fit. Media members who engage in name-calling, especially a term like “false prophet,” understand the risk of getting a cold shoulder in return. Sanders could be cordial and professional — or rude and crude — and still give Keeler nothing. The athletic department didn’t need to weigh in.
Coaches don’t have to like everything that’s written or said about them. But they choose what kind of leader they want to be and what type of behavior they want to model for the young people who look up to them. Being thin-skinned and vindictive isn’t the example I’d want to set, but that’s me. Sanders isn’t the first to lean toward bullying when he has the power, but his response is nonetheless unfortunate.
Winning would help. The more a coach wins, the bigger an asshole he can be. Fans and school officials couldn’t care less about which reporters ask questions if Sanders starts stacking Ws. Colorado will gladly live with the perception that “Prime Planet” is in full effect if it results in championships and playoff berths.
Otherwise, it’s just more mess to deal with courtesy of Coach Prime, who’s brought the glaring national spotlight to Colorado.
You get what you pay for.
Deron Snyder, from Brooklyn, is an award-winning columnist who lives near D.C. and pledged Alpha at HU-You Know! He’s reaching high, lying low, moving on, pushing off, keeping up, and throwing down. Got it? Get more at blackdoorventures.com/deron.