Going "Incognito": Bullying, Hazing, and the Problem of Masculinity in Sports

Jonathan Martin, Offensive Tackle for the NFL Miami Dolphins

Richie Incognito, Guard for the NFL Miami Dolphins

As a Sport Communication scholar, I've been following the Richie Incognito controversy with interest. For those who don't know, Incognito, a Guard with the Miami Dolphins, has been accused by teammate Jonathan Martin of bullying him, and leaving racist and otherwise threatening voice mails and texts.

Textbook Bullying Responses

Incognito's latest interview with FOX NFL Sunday echoes textbook defenses of bullying and hazing, including:

1. It was a joke.

2. It wasn't my intention and Martin misunderstood me.

3. The hazing was for Martin's own good (some reports state that Incognito was asked by Dolphins staff to toughen up).

4. Martin should have stood up for himself; and, from previous reports.

5. His status as an "honorary black man" gave him the okay to use the N-word.

Why the Discussion of Hazing in the NFL will Begin and End With This Incident: The Dilemma of Masculinity

Some reporters and players have argued that this sort of thing isn't new in the NFL; hazing is part and parcel of the NFL locker room culture. Masculinity scholars like Michael Messner and Michael Kimmel would likely agree. And items 1-4 above point to the "problem" of masculinity.

Martin is perceived as "weak" and "soft" by going public. Even if folks disagree with what Incognito did, whether it was on his own or at the behest of the Dolphins staff, Martin should have kept it "in house" and "handled his business like a man."

This speaks to what scholar Susan Bordo calls in her book The Male Body one of the dilemmas of masculinity: Like Tarzan, men are expected to be strong "savages" in control, taking what they want (for example, a woman who really just wants to be taken as his in the heat of passion), tough, and strong. Yet, like when Tarzan is taken to the city in the Edgar Rice Burroughs story, men are also expected to be sensitive (to women and social expectations. This, Bordo says, is the dilemma of masculinity.

What Happens Now?

I predict we'll see this story end with a whimper and not a bang. Regardless of how the media frames this story, Martin cannot win. He's a victim and therefore, in the eyes of many, "soft," or he "stands up for himself like a man," in which case we would never have heard of this. The most damaging part of this dilemma, in the context of the NFL and hazing, is that this dilemma ensures we won't hear from other players who may suffer as Martin did. They'll watch this story unfold, maybe they'll testify as part of Commissioner Roger Goodell's inquiry on the condition of anonymity.

But that's where the inquiry will end. Despite the NFL's status as, arguably, America's favorite sport, the NFL will not pursue this any further for fear of damaging its reputation. Maybe that's better for fans. As the saying goes, "Do you really want to see how the sausage is made?"

Going Mad: How Mad Men's Season 5 Changed Things

Read Slate's interview with Matthew Weiner here.

How "Glee" is Slowly Becoming the Worst Thing for Music Since American Idol

Another rock band has refused to give permission to Glee creator Ryan Murphy for the cast to perform its songs. Last time, it was Kings of Leon. This time, Dave Grohl and Foo Fighters. According to The Hollywood Reporter, not only did Dave Grohl, guitarist and singer for Foo Fighters and former drummer of Nirvana, refuse to give permission, he also took umbrage with what now seems to be Murphy's M.O. in dealing with these situations: "Let me use the songs, they'll inspire kids to get into music."
And when certain musicians refuse, Murphy allegedly responds with something along the lines of: a) "Well, he's a washed-up has been trying to maintain cred" (in the case of Slash, former guitarist of hard rock bands Guns n' Roses and Velvet Revolver); or b) "They're selfish jerks" (in the case of Nathan Followill of Kings of Leon).

In the latter case, Murphy specifically said, "F--- you, Kings of Leon. They're self-centered assholes, and they missed the big picture. They missed that a 7-year-old kid can see someone close to their age singing a Kings of Leon song, which will maybe make them want to join a glee club or pick up a musical instrument. It's like, OK, hate on arts education. You can make fun of Glee all you want, but at its heart, what we really do is turn kids on to music."

While I disagree with Followill's sexist and homophobic response to Murphy via Twitter, which read "Dear Ryan Murphy, let it go. See a therapist, get a manicure, buy a new bra. Zip your lip and focus on educating 7yr olds how to say f**k.," and which Followill later recanted, I also disagree with Murphy.

First, no band should be obligated to give their permission for a song to be used. Like Murphy, they're artists. Their major assets are the songs they've created. They should have the right to decide on which platforms and in what forms those songs appear. Considering the way the show thoughtfully addresses high school bullying, you'd think Murphy wouldn't take to verbal bullying of the artists who refuse to let their songs be used.

Why Glee is bad for fans of good music
Second, Murphy's claims of "education" are somewhat dubious. I agree that the show provides a platform of visibility for people with disabilities,

Keven McHale as Artie

although the character of Artie isn't really disabled; here he is with his Boy Band, NLT (Not Like Them). He's in dancing in the back and sings lead about 1:36 into the video:

And the show is great because it highlights the struggle of self-identified gay and bisexual boys and girls dealing with coming out (or not) to family and friends, weight and body issues, school bullying, and alcohol abuse (albeit the last one in ways more humorous than not). But let's be clear, the show is problematic in many ways (see above clip).

However, what's emerging as the most problematic aspect of Glee is not the way, according to some, it ruins otherwise great songs that have aged well. I liked Glee's remake of "Don't Stop Believing." And while Kurt's rendition of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" was different from the original

I've found that most of their remakes are actually faithful to the original (Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls," for example).

No, what's more troubling to me is the way Glee is beginning to fit into the current musical landscape, which is littered with the deluded aspirations of would-be pop stars. For all Glee's talk about a choir being a "team" and how kids shouldn't fight over solos, that's just not the norm in the music realm anymore. Many of us have already witnessed this troubling trend of frightening and fascinating fixations of being a "star" on American Idol.

I argue that, far from Murphy's argument that Glee will make kids want to join show choirs and take music classes in high school, the popularity of Glee will instead feed into the already burgeoning narcissistic, social media-driven solo artist path many kids seem to want to take after watching Justin Bieber hit it big. And unlike Bieber, who is actually talented (and, for all I know, not narcissistic), I think Glee will give kids and their parents (particularly the parents) even more confidence that their kid can be the next "star."

Getting young people into music, really? Is this what we're talking about?

Because if it is, I'd like to see a show that discourages Rebecca Black and her parents (and folks with the same deluded aspirations as they have) from ever entering the music business.

So, Ryan Murphy, please don't give bands a hard time about not lending you their music. They may be doing us all a favor.

The Fab Five and the Decline of Western Civilization (or, at least, collegiate sports)

I'm watching the Fab Five documentary on ESPN with mixed feelings. Going to school in the Ann Arbor-Ypsilanti area in the late 90s, I remember the hype, the swagger of those five freshman basketball players from the University of Michigan.

Yesterday during one of the many conference-championship games, sportscaster Jim Nantz said (I'm paraphrasing here): Yeah, well, the Fab Five destroyed the program. They really did. Ultimately they did. They can talk about they changed college basketball. They certainly changed things at the University of Michigan. They ruined it for about two decades. Set them on probation, and all the sanctions. I don't know, I was there to see all that exciting times, but in the end, the aftermath, it was ugly.

And I suppose that's true. The Fab Five signaled the beginning of the one-and-done, pay-for-play, scandal-shadowed, highly-hyped college hoopster that has since become a permanent fixture in the NCAA.

But more than that, it's fascinating to hear the role race played in both alumni receptions (Steve Fisher and the players describe getting letters from alums riddled with the words "n---ger" and "coon) and the ways in which the players made sense of their own collegiate experience. For example, Jalen Rose spoke about why he hated Duke: they recruited "Uncle Tom" players from "good" (presumably stable and affluent, or at least middle class) families, like Grant Hill; their players were "accepted," players like Rose (from a family with a poor, single Mom) were "rejected." Certainly, this notion of tension within race is not new to those of us in the communication field, but hearing Rose talk like that may surprise some.

What's more surprising to me is the ways in which class is communicated in the interviews and media texts. Rose talks about the "dope house" scandal (he was found in an alleged crack house when police raided it, about which he says, "That wasn't a crack house. I know what a crack house. I've walked past a few."), and having tattoos and earrings (which, for a college player, was unheard of at that time and branded one a "thug" in the eyes of some). The viewer gets this sense that what bonded the Fab Five was as much a (self)imposed lower class status as a love for the game. Their vocal love of "underground" rap groups like NWA, Ghetto Boys, and EPMD as opposed to popular African-American musical artists at the time also speaks to this issue of class (a reporter is shown asking Rose if he listens to Lionel Richie, to which he smirks and shakes his head).

Now, I'm not arguing that poor Black men didn't before look at basketball as way out of tough economic situations. I'm pointing this out because this understanding of class is necessary in contextualizing the story of the Fab Five. Jalen Rose recounted their disgust at being commercialized by Nike with the (in)famous black socks, among other things. Mitch Albom discussed walking with Webber as they notice one of Webber's jerseys in a store window for $75, which Webber couldn't afford at the time. Shortly thereafter, Webber declared for the NBA.

All this at a time before college players attained the national hype they now have. For example, here's a commercial heavily-hyped Ohio State University, one-and-done player Greg Oden made for ESPN in 2007 shortly after he went pro:

In the Fab Five documentary, class complicates the viewer's understanding of the scandals that would emerge later, particularly with Chris Webber, with whom UM is banned from associating for 10 years for lying to a grand jury about accepting money from a booster. As the story goes:

"Big Money" Ed Martin bought inner-city Detroit kids new sneakers when they needed them and boots for the winter if they didn't have boots, which, as Albom explains "no Detroit kid is going to refuse." Some of these kids he helped out, allegedly with money from an illegal gambling ring, made it big on the college and eventually the pro level. When it got to this point, however,some say the gifts evolved from much-needed shoes to housing and clothing (Jalen Rose admits Martin gave him "pocket change" but that's it; Mitch Albom doubts a significant amount of money went to Webber until after Webber declared for the draft). For his part, Webber continues to maintain silence, doesn't apologize, and according to some, believes UM got the better of the bargain: national TV exposure, millions of dollars in UM merchandise sold, and future recruiting classes all but secured.

The banners are taken down from Chrysler Arena. The legacy of this trailblazing team is visibly erased from UM facilities, though it lives on the memories of college basketball fans. Bittersweet, complex, and twisted like a freshly-cut basketball net lying on a hardwood floor.

Will.i.am is the Worst and Best Thing for Music Right Now

I just finished Rolling Stone's interview with Will.i.am of Black Eyed Peas as part of its "40 reasons to be excited about music" story. I admit, I'm not a Black Eyed Peas fan. Nonetheless, I read the story with some interest; you can't deny Will.i.am is successful. From his Pepsi mash-up with Dylan to his Obama song and video to the sheer number of hits his group has recorded, the man clearly knows what sells, what people want, and how to deliver that to them.

However, I'm kind of uneasy with his description of music of ambient mood sound bytes, written like commercial jingles to be easily processed, digested, and consumed by music fans. I agree that itunes and the mp3 format has changed the way we listen to music, but to discount the power in story, in narrative, the power in the lyrical that's present in so many great songs... I'm not sure I'm there yet. Does beat and rhythm finally trump message and meaning? Is the medium the message in music, as McLuhan so presciently argued?

Of course, it's not fair to dump all this on Will.i.am. But I think his comments speak to a larger issue with the direction the music industry is headed, or has already arrived at. I'm not saying we should go back to the vinyl record. I know that's the trendy thing now (although I don't know if they're any more environmentally sound--nothing like the sound you get from a rubber tree from the rain forest, eh?). And I don't agree with Will.i.am that squares don't produce good music (I'm not kidding. Cassettes didn't work, according to him, just like 8 track tapes, whereas records and CDs did). Just the same, Will.i.am is likely the visionary to music relevant and move it (or keep it) in other areas of social and cultural life.

But I hate to think that artists can't or won't produce music of the same quality and with the same characteristics as they used to. And I hate to think that they're no longer "artists" but jingle writers. Call me old fashioned.

Comparing Caprica and BSG

I enjoy SyFy's prequel to their critically-acclaimed series Battlestar Galactica, Caprica. Here's one blogger's take on it so far (he's also an interesting poet to read, if you've never encountered his stuff).

I'm a fan of the film Big Fan

Overall, a good movie. There are some incredibly funny parts, some sad and poignant parts, but overall little payoff at the end of this journey made by the main character. It was well-written and there are some great camera shots and interestingly composed scenes. The acting is good as well. Its just one of those films that seemed to promise a bit more than it could deliver.

Find details about Big Fan here