Going Deep: Plain Old Mike
The denials, once robust and delivered from a podium by men in Versace suits, have dissipated into the air. The steely proclamations of innocence and indignation have melted away. The attempts to keep a stiff upper lip and stroll chest-out through a crowd of protestors were for naught.
Michael Vick pled guilty today.
Guilty.
Just two and a half years ago, the Atlanta Falcons quarterback signed a 10-year, $130 million contract. It included $37 million in guaranteed money and was the richest deal in NFL history. It didn’t include the $7 million per year he made in endorsements with companies such as Nike, Coca-Cola, Kraft and Rawlings.
To varying degrees, virtually everyone has a vice or two. It could be cigarettes, wine, pot, chocolate, or dirty movies. In Michael Vick’s secret stash was a dogfighting ring.
Today — indefinitely suspended by the NFL, dropped from his endorsement deals and at risk of losing $22 million of that once-guaranteed money — Michael Vick admitted in court, yes, I did fund dogfighting. Yes, I did kill dogs.
Because none of us has a completely clean slate, the sane among us are hesitant to judge when others get into trouble. Not to mention, Vick isn’t the first NFL player to get into trouble. The list is long.
Leonard Little of the St. Louis Rams was drunk after a party one night, got behind the wheel of a car, and killed a woman. He was arrested six years later for again driving under the influence.
Adam “Pacman” Jones of the Tennessee Titans faces charges of inciting a riot in a Las Vegas strip club that led to gunfire and left a man paralyzed.
O.J. Simpson murdered two people.
There have been cocaine charges, spousal abuse charges, tax charges, gun charges. In the last seven years alone, more than 300 NFL players have been arrested. (That’s roughly one-fifth of the league in a given season.)
But, O.J. aside, there is a fundamental difference between what most of those players arrested did — ugly as some of their crimes were — and what Michael Vick did. The difference is intent, or more specifically, a line of depravity that most people, not only in the NFL but in society, don’t ever and won’t ever cross.
That’s why many of us have absolutely no problem judging Michael Vick.
What Leonard Little did was ignorant, reckless and horrendous, but his intent was to drive home, not to kill someone. Physical assaults, as hellish as they can be, for the most part are rage and insecurity problems, not sadism. Illegal gun possession, although potentially dangerous, is a crime of stupidity.
The essence of Michael Vick’s crimes was the intent.
Mike intended to pit one dog against another in fights to the death. When Mike put nooses around dogs’ necks and strung them up in the woods, he intended for the dogs to die. When Mike held dogs’ heads under water, as the terrified animals writhed under his hands and struggled for their lives, he intended to kill them.
It was the violence, and in fact the very killing of the dogs, from which Michael Vick derived pleasure. It’s what he got off on when he dipped into his stash.
Any criminal psychologist will tell you it isn’t a giant leap, mentally and emotionally, to go from murdering animals to murdering a person. It isn’t merely the fact that dogs are man’s cute best friend that repulses us about Michael Vick’s actions. It is the fact that Vick stands at the entryway to a whole other realm of sickness.
As dumb and as infuriating and as tragic as many NFL players’ transgressions have been, you have to be pretty low on the food chain to do what Michael Vick did. That’s how many of us feel.
“I made a mistake of using bad judgment and making bad decisions,” Vick, doing his sociopathic best to appear contrite, said at a press conference after his appearance in court. “Those things just can’t happen. Dogfighting is a terrible thing, and I do reject it.”
Made a mistake?
Eating pizza when you’re on a diet is a mistake. Going through airport security with a water bottle that has a hidden compartment and mysterious resin is a mistake. Flipping off the fans in Atlanta is a mistake. Giving a girl herpes, after going to a clinic and testing positive under the name “Ron Mexico,” is pushing it but could be interpreted in the most generous and forgiving light as a possible mistake.
Bankrolling a dogfighting ring for six years and murdering dogs — that’s not a mistake. It is a way of life. It is a way of life to the point that it is who you are.
That’s who Michael Vick is. He’s a guy who couldn’t read a defense and couldn’t always put the ball between the numbers, but he could run fast, juke, and throw far. He was Mr. Potential. (“If he could just learn to run an offense and be a leader, with his speed he’d be the best ever,” his coaches said as they salivated, only to be fired later when the team underperformed.) And Vick is a guy who liked to fight and kill dogs.
The outrage over Vick is not a race thing either. Race is a factor in all walks of life every day. Racism is America’s disease, and it continues to affect lives in our country on the most basic levels. But that’s not what this is about and we all know it.
Michael Vick is not the victim.
If Peyton Manning or Tom Brady had run a dogfighting ring and killed dogs, the outrage would be just as prolific, perhaps more so. PETA would still be right there on the footsteps of federal court. Endorsement companies would still scramble to distance themselves. The NFL would still come down hard to make a statement. It would be scandalous.
For defenders of Vick, it certainly could be a class thing. But more than that, it’s a humanity thing. What Michael Vick did was inhumane. That’s who he is.
That’s why many of us get angry when we see players, former players and members of the media offer critiques of Vick’s somber apology. They tell us “It was suprising” … “It was what he needed to do” … “It seemed very sincere” … and, my favorite, “It wasn’t scripted because he wasn’t reading from a piece of paper.” They forget the depraved deliberateness of his crimes as well as his attempts just days ago to lie and cover up.
Why would anyone believe Vick is sincere now?
People in the media, who either don’t have time or don’t take the time to seriously think about what they’re saying to millions of viewers and listeners, are analyzing Vick’s P.R. campaign as if it’s synonymous with his personal rehabilitation — much like equating a political horserace to a candidate’s actual ability to govern. People are forgetting that this wasn’t just another sad screwup by an NFL player. People are forgetting about Vick’s intent, which speaks volumes about him as a person.
There was no fall from grace for Michael Vick, just ebbs and flows and tidal waves in public perception. Through college at Virginia Tech, through the richest contract in NFL history, through the endorsements, through the children of all races who looked up to him, through making the playoffs, through not making the playoffs, through the coaches who mistakenly put their careers in his hands, through the deliberate passing of an STD, Michael Vick has always been the same guy.
Try as he may — with lawyers, public apologies, fake sincerity, and sudden invocations of Jesus — you can’t buy a conscience. Just like you can’t grow one in jail or during a courthouse press conference. Don’t let him soft-sell you into believing otherwise.
Like he always tried to tell us, he’s just plain old Mike.
