Once upon a time, before the National Football League became a vision sprinkled with gold dust and sugarplum fairies dancing in helmeted heads, coaches coached and players played and everyone knew who was boss.
Negotiations were something that happened on important world stages and settled issues that roiled nations, not teams. They did not occur between coaches and centers—even those with Ivy League educations.
Now, that world has turned topsy-turvy and not only in the NFL.
After first declaring she would not participate in media interviews during the French Open in order to protect her mental health, Naomi Osaka, one of the world’s greatest and richest tennis players, walked away from the Grand Slam tournament altogether. In doing so, she explained and amplified on social media her previously vague apprehensions. Journalists, she said were “cool” after all, and their stupid, repetitive questions where not the problem. It went much deeper and loomed scarily.
If Osaka had not buried the lede—a journalistic term for the introductory portion of a story, one often revealing, or at least hinting at, its essence—she would have been seen as a shy 23-year-old struggling to overcome her fear of public speaking and been greeted with the empathy she deserved. Instead, the other Grand Slam Tournaments dog-piled her and threatened her. “I am not a natural public speaker and get huge waves of anxiety before I speak to the world’s media,” she explained in a post. “I get really nervous and find it stressful to always try to engage.” Some journalists understand this, because they, too, believe it or not, can sound stupid when asking questions of great athletes. I know. I once was such a journalist and now have aged into an even more serious introvert or, on really bad days, a misanthrope.
It can be difficult to explain oneself. Lindsay Crouse, a writer and producer of opinion for The New York Times, suggested that when Osaka put the French Open in her rearview mirror she “wasn’t just protecting her mental health. She was sending a message to the establishment of one of the world’s most elite sports: I will not be controlled.” Someone wrote a simple headline and slapped it atop the online column and made it sing with a spot-on colloquialism as its closer: “Naomi Osaka and the Power of ‘Nope.’”
Closer to home, Cleveland Browns center JC Tretter and Coach Kevin Stefanski appear to be engaged in a kabuki dance not dissimilar to the “power move” that Lindsay Crouse detected in Osaka’s left jab to tennis’s schnoz. Ms. Crouse is an expert on this subject, having been nominated for an Emmy for the Opinion video series “Equal Play,” which, The Times notes, brought widespread reform to women’s sports.
Tretter, president of National Football League Players Association, has been the leader of the NFLPA’s unevenly accepted boycott of the voluntary Organized Team Activities. OTAs are a weasel term for out-of-season practices that, unlike an upcoming three-day mandatory minicamp, are not required of players but might be advised for those who are not stars and want to win a spot on the regular-season roster or if a team believes it has the potential to reach the Super Bowl and even to win the Lombardi Trophy.
The consensus seems to be that the Browns have such potential for the first time since old Shep was a pup; Paul Brown was coach and Otto Graham was quarterback or maybe Marty Schottenheimer and Bernie Kosar ruled the AFC, except for Denver. The team again—at long last—is coached by someone with a clue, and that education from Penn doesn’t hurt. It is, however, matched by Tretter, formerly a Cornell scholar.
Tretter wants to protect players from injury. He has made clear he believes OTAs that more and more can resemble full-contact scrimmages can be dangerous. During last year’s COVID-19 restrictions, off-season activities were canceled up to and including preseason games. No negotiations required or allowed. The NFLPA points to fewer injuries during the 2020 season—though the sample size is small—and suggests this was in part the result of less team physical contact before and during the season.
No one wants to see the players beat each other onto the injury list. Save it for the games. But the fact is, there is value in OTAs and other such physical engagements. Some things cannot be achieved virtually. Timing. Cohesion. Respect. Whether they like it or not—and I remember not always liking it—a football player has to prove himself in person: to his coach, to his fellow players, even, I would argue, to himself. It isn’t easy, because it is not supposed to be—on any level of the game.
For this week’s OTAs, the defense, including stars such as Myles Garrett and Denzel Ward, showed up in large voluntary numbers in an obvious effort to integrate as many as nine new starters and to better understand and practice Joe Woods’ 4-2-5 defense. Next week, the dean of Browns writers, Tony Grossi, tells me—and anyone else willing to pay for his excellent The Land on Demand posts—more offensive players could take part. Stefanski refused to confirm this nor get into it, in absentia, with Tretter, especially if this is indeed a negotiated compromise. “I will stay in the moment here,” Stefanski told the media. … “We deal with it very matter-of-factly. It is a voluntary program. The guys who are here will get coached up, and the guys who are not here, we will see them for mandatory minicamp.” OK. But that is setting off my BS meter and rattling my windows.
Meanwhile, the Kansas City Chiefs and other AFC teams ranked more likely to reach the Super Bowl are practicing in greater numbers. Garrett says it won’t matter. While I respect him for showing up for voluntary defensive work, I could not disagree more. The price of freedom—and that’s what we are talking about here: individual freedom—can be death. Ask anyone who has served in the military or watched as his friends who did died. Fortunately, football’s outcomes will not as serious. But the comparison is legitimate. Ask any serious follower of the Browns who lives on the eve of hope.
Garrett believes that Browns not present can improve equally well with homework. That’s gold dust and sugarplums fairies talking. Wishful thinking. Teams jell by coming together in mutual effort in order to learn about one another and how they fit together. Somewhere, sometime, somehow those not present will be held accountable.
