An interesting conversation arose on the internet this weekend, following a television debate between comedian Jim Norton and Gawker blogger Lindy West. The subject was if rape jokes contributed to a rape culture. It's been a topic around for years, with critics claiming it builds misogyny and makes rape sound like it's not so bad. It's even cost people their jobs, a First Amendment issue tossed away in the cross-hairs of the blogosphere.
Then on Monday, the New York Times reported three Navy football players were under NCIS investigation for the alleged rape of a female midshipmen. This after the victim felt intimidated by players who stared at her as she ate meals, told her to keep quiet because it "kept the peace," and was punished by officials who took away her privileges then made her sit in attendance at their games.
This news almost one year after Steubenville.
A year and a half after Jerry Sandusky.
Almost three years after Elizabeth Seeberg.
Fourteen years after Katie Hnida.
And no one will say a damn thing about whether it's a part of the college sports culture.
To say rape is a part of football is as reactionary as saying it results from a set at the Chuckle Hut. But it does result from a culture where there are no repercussions for your actions. College coaches and players act like the sons of rich cattlemen in old westerns; they ride through town, causing destruction, having their way with the women and beating the hell out of the poor dumb cowpokes unfortunate to get in their way. And when you think the town sheriff has had enough and will lock them up, Big Daddy and his money appears and the sheriff has to slowly release the rowdy boys from their cells. They run out hoopin' and hollerin', knowing Big Daddy has their back. And no one dares speak out, either, with scenes reminiscent of Mississippi Burning: a small group of town leaders who believe their narrow view of life is so important, they'll make sure it stands, no matter what lows they're willing to stoop to. And everyone in town knows it's wrong, but who'd dare speak out, so they just stand there quietly as outsiders watch.
As Notre Dame played in the BCS Championship, only a few brave columnists brought up the name of Lizzy Seeberg, the 19-year-old St. Mary's student who said she was sexually assaulted by a Notre Dame player. She was intimidated by players threatening her if she told ("Messing with Notre Dame football is a bad idea"), and Notre Dame made sure to muddle the waters by insisting their university police handle the investigation. In the end, her depression from the harassment drove her to suicide, and the police decided that because she did so, no charges would be filed. Months later, Coach Brian Kelly joked at the Chicago Tribune writers investigating her death "I didn't know you guys could afford all those guys." The alleged player, and his "Don't do anything you would regret"-texting buddies, played in that BCS Title Game. The next day, Brent Musberger had to fight for his job as many labeled him a misogynist and offensive because of his comments about a beauty queen.
Also in that game were Tommy Rees and Carlos Calabrese, two football players involved in an off-campus fight with police. They were suspended one game earlier in the season for their arrests, compared to three for radio analyst Allen Pinkett for saying Notre Dame needs to recruit "more criminals." And two weeks after that title game, Notre Dame AD Jack Swarbrick cried in a press conference in support of Manti Te'o. Twitter quickly noted he was crying for a fake dead girl, not the real dead girl.
And the attitude is quickly working it's way through high schools, with coaches hoping to have winning programs so they can be present on National Signing Day, and perhaps even follow Gus Malzahn up into the college ranks. When two Steubenville players started texting images and comments as they sexually assaulted an unconscious student, a text came back telling the two that "coach" had seen it, and told them to take it down. One defendant received texts that claimed Coach Reno Saccoccia knew of the incident as soon as the next day, one even texted he wasn't scared because "I got Reno. Nothing’s gonna happen if it goes to court." His assistant claimed the rape was "just an excuse," witnesses refused to testify, local law enforcement employed former players, and Saccoccia told a reporter "You’re going to get yours. And if you don’t get yours, somebody close to you will." And as a grand jury investigation looks into further charges for Saccoccia, he received a two-year contract extension. He will still be coaching this season.
But as far as Time Magazine is concerned, it's Seth MacFarlane's fault with all his rape jokes.
And none of this is new. In 1999, Katie Hnida was a woman playing on scholarship at the University of Colorado. Not only was she sexually harassed and molested, she had her virginity taken in a rape by a fellow player. Afraid to come out initially, she finally revealed her assault in 2004, years after transferring to New Mexico. Colorado coach Gary Barnett's comments on her rape allegation? "Katie was not only a girl, she was terrible. OK? She couldn't kick the ball through the uprights." Some college football diehard to this day claim her rape allegations were "political correctness."
We quickly approach on a year-and-a-half into the post-Paterno era, when we were supposed to wake up and realize coaches had to be held responsible. We were supposed to keep a watchful eye on athletic departments, and keep ruthless boosters at bay. And now Army-Navy, the last bastion of honor we thought college football had, is in the middle of this culture allowed to go wild. The sad part is we know there's an issue. Problem is, no one has the balls to do anything about it. Funny, real funny.
Top image courtesy Cleveland.com.
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