Several days before former Miami Dolphin head coach stunned the National Football League with his class-action lawsuit alleging racial discrimination and other sins, I read a very interesting profile at The Athletic about one of my sports heroes.
The headline summed things up: “Bears Hall of Famer Mike Singletary is hungry for a second chance to be an NFL head coach, but will it ever come?”
Singletary was a legend in Chicago and, before that, at Baylor University — where I met him because of a mutual friend. Singletary was a highly articulate preacher’s kid from Houston with a voice that sounded like he was auditioning to be the next James Earl Jones. He was a leader from Day 1 at Baylor and demonstrated all the characteristics that made him the face, brain and soul of the greatest defensive unit in NFL history.
This is where the Singletary feature became relevant during this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in), which focused on why journalists struggle to spot “religion ghosts” in so many sports stories, such as the life of Los Angeles Rams superstar Cooper Kupp (“Emerging NFL superstar — Cooper Kupp — puts his faith on his hat, not that reporters notice”) and the beliefs that appear to be putting the steel in the spine of Flores.
Why hasn’t Singletary had a second shot at being an NFL head coach, after his tumultuous tenure in San Francisco (not the best city for his views on faith and culture)? It may have something to do with Singletary trying to “stand for what he had been preaching” with the 49ers. Read this long passage carefully:
… 49ers owner John York, CEO Jed York, director of player personnel Trent Baalke and other executives called Singletary to a meeting. They had a trade in place with the Steelers for Ben Roethlisberger, who had recently been accused of sexual assault. Singletary vetoed the deal. …
“I had been telling the team I wanted a team of character,” he says. “I felt I had to be true to that. But if I could do it again, I’d do it differently.”
The offense was a consistent problem, ranking 27th one year and 24th the next.
“I think he was sabotaged in a few ways internally,” says Takeo Spikes, a 49ers linebacker under Singletary. “Some of the conflict he brought on himself. But I enjoyed playing for him because he was a leader of men. His greatest ability is to be able to inspire and motivate. I appreciated his mentality as far as attacking a lot of things, especially in games.”
Spikes says Singletary related well to players of all ages and races. He was respected because he preached faith and family while still demanding a commitment to football.
Over and over, the feature notes that Singletary’s strengths are, in the context of today’s NFL, part of what may make it hard for White billionaire owners to warm up to this particular legend. This is the line that shows up time and time again: “This is Mike Singletary, and a lot comes with being Mike Singletary.”
Race certainly appears to be part of that. But how about his outspoken Christian faith and his ethical convictions? That feature at The Athletic — one of my favorite online sports publications — dances around that subject for several thousand words.
This brings us to the statement Flores released to announce his lawsuit:
“God has gifted me with a special talent to coach the game of football, but the need for change is bigger than my personal goals. … In making my decision to file the class action complaint today, I understand that I may be risking coaching the game that I love and that has done so much for my family and me. My sincere hope is that by standing up against systemic racism in the NFL, others will join me to ensure that positive change is made for generations to come.”
Needless to say, this story is going to get lots of digital ink and airtime as the NFL heads into its Holy Week, with the blitz of alleged coverage that leads up to the Super Bowl LVI in Los Angeles.
This time there is real news to cover, to say the least.
It’s crucial to note that, in addition to his claims about racial discrimination in hiring and firing, Flores is making explosive allegations about ethics. For starters, he says the owner of the Dolphins offered him $100,000 per game to tank, in order to get a higher slot in the NFL draft.
So far, I haven’t seen any news reports that have asked questions about the faith reference in the initial Flores statement. Personally, I think it would be good for ESPN or NBC Sports to ask Hall of Fame coach Tony Dungy — a strong Black Christian — what he thinks of the Flores crisis.
However, I backed up a few years and read some of the news reports about Flores competing for, and landing, the Miami job. Read between the lines of the following passage from an NFL.com feature that ran with this headline: “Brian Flores' career as coach marked by personal approach.”
The platitudes are never-ending when it comes to Flores, the Patriots' linebackers coach and de facto defensive coordinator who is expected to be named head coach of the Miami Dolphins as early as Monday, after New England takes on the Rams in Super Bowl LIII. He is a man of faith and character, honesty and integrity, discipline and humility. The next bad word you hear about him will be the first. Seemingly the only thing he has ever failed at is choosing a single word to describe his life's journey.
Truth is, Flores' story is an after-school special waiting to be filmed: The son of Honduran immigrants grows up in a high-crime Brooklyn neighborhood, earns a scholarship to a private high school, earns another scholarship to Boston College, accepts a low-paying high-hours job with an NFL team, sleeps on an air mattress in the attic of a friend to save money, sends any extra monies home to his parents, climbs the organizational ladder to become the team's defensive play-caller, moves his parents and an autistic brother to a condominium near his home, stops in every night to visit his mother, who is battling cancer, then, at age 37, becomes the only person of color to fill one of eight NFL head-coaching vacancies that opened this year.
Players and colleagues keep talking about his moral convictions and his concern about the lives of people off the playing field, including a strong emphasis on marriage and family.
Does anyone else see evidence of a faith element in this story?
Just asking. Again.
Enjoy the podcast and, please, pass it along to others.