One week. I've waited one week for the outrage to pour down on all the verbal trash a boxer named Floyd Mayweather Jr. had to say about another boxer named Manny Pacquiao. And so far, the silence has been deafening, not to mention sad and telling.
Let's be bold and take a wild guess that many of you don't wake up each morning eager for the latest boxing headlines. Vanishing faster than pay phones are Americans who can tell you the name of the heavyweight champion of the world — however many versions there are.
But these are two of the hottest names in the sport, supposedly destined to one day meet in a super fight that would make Las Vegas glow, if they can ever stop bickering about the contract. So you might have heard some of the excerpts from Mayweather's profane and racist Internet video rant about his Filipino rival.
You might have noted this for example: "As soon as we come off vacation, we're going to cook that little yellow chump."
Or this: "Once I stomp that midget, I'll make that mother-(bleeper) make me a sushi roll and cook me some rice."Or this: "We're going to cook that (bleeper) up with some cats and dogs."
Throw in calling Pacquiao a "whore," along with generous usage of a derogatory F-word normally aimed toward gay males, and you get the general tone.
This was like making a 911 call to the sports precinct of the PC police. Certainly, it rose to the level of Don Imus calling the Rutgers basketball team "nappy-headed hos."
Absolutely, it matched Fuzzy Zoeller's bad joke about Tiger Woods not putting fried chicken and collard greens on the Masters champions dinner.
Positively, it could stand aside Howard Cosell referring to a small Washington Redskins player as "that little monkey."
Imus was fired. Zoeller, once among the most gregarious figures in golf, retreated into the shadows and never quite recovered. Cosell, despite being a stalwart defender of Muhammad Ali in the stormy Vietnam years, was savaged by critics. They all apologized, as Mayweather did, but that did not save them from having reputations burned at the stake.
So I waited for the volcano of indignation. One week. And mostly … nothing.
Nothing from the Rev. Jesse Jackson Sr., who led the charge after Imus and said after the radio host was summarily sacked, "It's a victory for public decency."
Nothing from the Rev. Al Sharpton, who said of Imus: "We cannot afford a precedent establishing that the airwaves can commercialize and mainstream sexism and racism."
The loudest and lonely cry came from the National Federation of Filipino American Associations, which was probably appalled not only by the mean spirit of the words but the errant idea that sushi is regarded as a Filipino dish.
Imagine a major league pitcher talking about Ichiro Suzuki: "My fastball is going to cook that little yellow chump."
Or a defensive end in the NFL talking about Donovan McNabb: "Once I stomp that midget, I'll make him make me fried chicken."
Think there'd be some, ah, ramifications? It'd be headlines and talk show fodder for days. But for whatever reason — plenty to choose from — this vanished like a shooting star.
Is it because nobody cares about boxing? Most Americans can't find the Philippines on a map, so why bother to be offended? The ugly underbelly of the Internet makes us numb to inane ramblings? An African-American athlete is not held to the same standard of sensitivity?
Only a couple of conclusions can be made.
One more time, boxing has given us a reason to dismiss it as a sport that's turned into grimy carnival act.
And many who portray themselves as tireless guardians of the boundaries of decency in discussion on race appear to have very selective criteria for where the line might be.
Source: usatoday.com
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