Race, Dehumanization, and the NFL National Anthem Protests

Dehumanizing language, or language used to describe human beings as non-human entities, is increasingly prevalent in political life. This dehumanization also occurs frequently in the world of sports. Sports and politics intersected notably in 2016, when Colin Kaepernick of the NFL’s San Francisco 49ers started protesting the national anthem to raise awareness about police violence against African-Americans. Kaepernick’s protests generated considerable vitriol towards him and other protesters, some of which was dehumanizing. In this study, I examine how dehumanizing language used against anthem protesters of different races influences political attitudes. Using experimental data, I find that, when a Black player protesting the national anthem is dehumanized, White citizens are considerably less supportive of the anthem protests and protesters. This effect does not persist when the dehumanized player is White.

Catching Up

This chapter examines the scope of Nikkei baseball in the aftermath of the Second World War. Re-entry into mainstream society proved challenging for much of the Nikkei community, particularly as anti-Japanese sentiments were still smoldering in the wake of the conflict. For a time Nikkei baseball came to a virtual halt as the Japanese American community attempted to rebuild their lives. Yet both the sport and the Nikkei community would undergo a dramatic shift as the postwar years wore on, such as Jackie Robinson's entry into the Major League as its first black player. Nikkei baseball would soon thrive again, and with its revival came several prominent Nikkei baseball players who would finally build that longed-for bridge between the Japanese American community and the rest of the nation.

A People's History of Baseball

Baseball is much more than the national pastime. It has become an emblem of America itself. Stories abound that illustrate baseball's significance in eradicating racial barriers, bringing neighborhoods together, and building civic pride. This book probes the less well-known but no less meaningful other side of baseball: episodes not involving equality, patriotism, heroism, and virtuous capitalism, but power—how it is obtained, and how it perpetuates itself. Exploring the founding of the National League, the book focuses on the newer Americans who sought club ownership to promote their own social status in the increasingly closed caste of late nineteenth-century America. The book's perspective on the rise and public rebuke of the Players Association shows that these events reflect both the collective spirit of working and middle-class America in the mid-twentieth century as well as the countervailing forces that sought to beat back this emerging movement that threatened the status quo. Even his take on baseball's racial integration that began with Branch Rickey's “Great Experiment” reveals the debilitating effects of the harsh double standard that resulted, requiring a black player to have unimpeachable character merely to take the field in a Major League game, a standard no white player was required to meet. Told with passion and occasional outrage, this book challenges the perspective of the well-known, deeply entrenched, hyper-patriotic stories of baseball and offers an incisive alternative history of America's much-loved national pastime.

Two-Bass Hit: Baseball and New York, 1945–1960

As a youngster, Art Rust, Jr., one of New York's first prominent black sportscasters, lived on St. Nicholas Avenue, a stone's throw equally from Minton's and Monroe's, the after-hours clubs where Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk created bebop, and the Polo Grounds, home of the New York Giants. Rust remembered the day in the 1930s when “Billy the Cop,” just off duty, told Rust's father that Giant manager Bill Terry, the last National League player to hit over 400, complained to the precinct commander. Terry didn't want any “nigger cops” patrolling the Polo Grounds, at least not near the executive entrances. Almost twenty years later, in the early 1950s, George Weiss, the general manager of the New York Yankees, a team whose Ruthian dominance prevailed in the Stadium, built with intentional perversity within eyesight of the Polo Grounds just across the East River in the South Bronx, responded to charges that the Yankees had failed to sign black players. In private, Weiss said, “I will never allow a black man to wear a Yankee uniform. Boxholders from Westchester don't want that sort of crowd. They would be offended to have to sit with niggers.” Publicly, in the spring of 1952, he responded that the team had been looking long and hard for a black player, “good enough to make the Yankees.” Weiss's accuser, Jackie Robinson, then entering his sixth season with the Brooklyn Dodgers, rejoined, “Bullshit.”

Race, Revenues, and College Basketball

Customer discrimination may result in racial differences in the marginal revenue products generated by workers. College basketball data allow for direct comparisons of the racial differences in the marginal revenues generated by players. This article compares the revenue generating potential of the top black and white college basketball players. A highly skilled white college player generates over $100,000 in per game revenues as compared to around $30,000 for a black player of equal talent, providing a strong incentive for colleges to discriminate against recruiting black student-athletes.