Recognizing professionals as people, not products
On Feb. 1, Julian Edelman – a wide receiver for the New England Patriots – was busy catching Tom Brady’s 13th career Super Bowl touchdown pass with 2:02 remaining in the game to give the Patriots an eventual 28-24 championship win over the Seattle Seahawks.
On Feb. 2, there were far more people talking about what (or rather, who) Edelman was doing off the field, instead of what he accomplished on it.
Sabrina, a girl who found herself the talk of the Internet – by self-imposed action – was the reason for this.
While Edelman lay in the same bed evidently following his championship celebration, Sabrina snapped a picture of herself beside the Patriot with the words “Just f***ed Edelman no lie” written across it, choosing to share it with everyone on Tinder, and eventually the virtual world.
A mere two days after it happened, Sabrina – now labeled the “Tinder Chick” – was pushed to make an apology, recognizing the fact that she “made a mistake.” In spite of the apology – and whether it was the extreme amount of backlash she received, or the ban from Boston bars and clubs that prompted it – the problem with her initial action still remains.
First and foremost, Edelman’s privacy was violated to say the very least, and that’s something that can never be taken back – apology or not. Gender also comes into play with the situation, as most will admit that if the roles were reversed, the man participating in Sabrina’s actions would be faced with extreme labels, and possibly even court involvement down the line.
This isn’t about gender, though. It’s not about he-said-she-said. And it certainly isn’t about the dark hole that has become our society’s way of “dating” with Tinder at the unfortunate forefront.
It’s, instead, about humanizing professional athletes.
These men score the game-winning goals, hit the buzzer-beating baskets, and catch the Super Bowl-winning passes. They have paychecks with numbers bigger than most of us see in a lifetime, and hold a lifestyle that is almost unrealistic when contrasted with a day-in-the-life of an Average-Joe.
But that’s the catch. These men aren’t average; they are exceptional in every way when it comes to their respective sports. We, as a society, recognize that, and hold these games so high on the list of importance that, suddenly, these very men become superheroes – products, even.
There’s our problem.
We become so consumed with their ability to do things that we can’t, so consumed in their talent, that we forget and disregard one very significant thing: these men are people.
Shocking, isn’t it? Who would have thought the man who led the New England Patriots in receiving during Super Bowl XLIX was actually a human being.
One thing’s for sure, Sabrina evidently didn’t think so. Instead, Edelman was a product, and it was an effort to separate herself from the rest with an accomplishment of… sleeping with a professional athlete?
I applaud her, I really do. I just can’t help but wonder where this big-feat falls on her list of grand life successes. Maybe it’s better that I’ll never know.
Nevertheless, Edelman, with a numerous amount of other men, is held to a certain standard because of his profession. These men are expected to perform to almost perfection on the field, while also being outstanding citizens off of it. They are supposed to be the grand standard of society. Yet, paired with our obsession in their talented abilities, we get off on athletes who stray away from the standard we hold them to.
We become consumed with their mistakes, their slip-ups, and anything we decide doesn’t fit with being a product of our professional team.
Former Boston Bruins forward, Tyler Seguin – a second overall selection in the 2010 NHL Entry Draft – is a prime example of this. Jumping into the NHL at 18-years-old, Seguin went on to win the most sought-after possession of any hockey player – the Stanley Cup – that same year. A young, immensely talented prospect, already a champion – and it only took 74 games in the league.
Seguin played two more seasons for the Bruins until being dealt to the Dallas Stars for the 2013-14 season. Talks hovered over the coined to-be superstar, with everyone discussing his antics off the ice. Fans booed and many voiced their displeasures with the young star’s performance, or thought-to-be lack thereof. Mind you, Seguin was known for his habit of partying, a problem that eventually saw his way out of Boston. However, through it all, one thing was never recognized: Seguin was 18-19-and 20-years-old during his time in Boston. He was a Stanley Cup Champion and was raking in money that even I will admit I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with.
When you work your entire life for something, as professional athletes do, making it can skew even the most humble, down-to-earth perspective. Especially for a kid.
And that’s exactly what Seguin was.
Now 23-years-old, Seguin leads the NHL in points with 59 in 53 games and is living up to every bit of superstardom that was thrown at him at the age of 18.
Most flaunt the argument that these men are professionals; they should know how to handle themselves.
And they do, in the game of sport. We are the problem. Collectively, we look for ways to point and prove that these men aren’t anywhere near the standard we hold them to – whether it’s Sabrina snapping a picture in bed with a sleeping Edelman, or somebody in a bar with a drunk Seguin.
Ironically enough, these are images that represent two actions that the average person participates in on a daily basis.
These men are professionals.
Tyler Seguin is a professional hockey player.
Julian Edelman is a professional football player.
Nowhere do I see that these men are professional people.
They, like so many of us, have nights they wish they couldn’t remember, and probably a few that they can’t. We, for whatever reason, decided somewhere down the line that we’re not okay with that – these men have to withhold a standard (a standard that they never asked for or claimed to live up to). They have to be professionals.
Professionals, or products; in the end, I don’t think we really know the difference.