Feature: When Athletes Find Fame After Hell

The saying goes: “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
In the world of professional sports, that means no matter what an athlete does these days, a scandalous allegation or a life-altering conviction can propel them to mega-status. When Michael Vick plead guilty to slaughtering eight fighting dogs in October, people ransacked sporting good stores for potential memorabilia. It’s a wise proposition if you think about it. In an age where sports memorabilia is a multi-billion dollar industry, a limited edition Michael Vick jersey could fetch you quite a bone. Vick isn’t immune to the power of NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell; or the power of the law. But the commissioner can’t detour fans from embracing their fallen idols. In fact, we’ll be damned if they are stripped from our everyday lives because without them we’re screwed. Which is why hoards of men and women come out in droves to support athletes who have, at times, plead guilty to the most heinous of crimes.

One look at history reveals the harsh reality that even the most brutal of circumstances can’t eradicate a career. Mike Tyson didn’t have a problem coming back to boxing after a conviction and three-year sentence for the rape of beauty queen Desiree Williams. Between his promoter and his gawking fans, Mike Tyson’s red carpet welcome was a mesmerizing spectacle of adoration and stupidity. It would be careless to assume that his notoriety as a wife-beater and lunatic didn’t help his career. As witnessed in 1988 when former wife Robbin Givens disclosed in a Barbara Walters interview, “Mike had basically told me he would kill me and get away with it.”

That was three years prior to his rape conviction. Yet, Wikipedia cites that upon his release from jail:

Interest in Tyson’s first comeback fight since his incarceration was high enough that it grossed more than USD $96 million worldwide, including a United States record $63 million for PPV television. The fight was purchased by 1.52 million homes, setting both PPV viewership and revenue records for that time.

He’s proceeded as boxing’s most prolific delinquent, having spent 24 hours in jail last month for drunk-driving charges. In an athlete’s career, a jail stint, rape allegation, or belligerent outburst could mean a lifetime of fame. It’s not as preposterous as you think when you look at the Kobe Bryant rape scandal of 2003.

The Court TV hypnotized world was swept with allegations that Bryant had raped a 19 year old Colorado hotel employee. It sent Bryant’s career into a spiral, ended his season prematurely and placed him in the elite of high-profile adulterers. At the time, the media assumed Bryant’s image would be tarnished forever. From a 2003 Court TV report:

Sports marketing experts say the case will be a permanent blow to Bryant’s image, and could cost him millions in lost endorsements.

But less than four full years have past since the incident and Kobe’s jersey is the number one seller in America and China. A savvy marketing campaign to shift his playing number from 8 to 24 (a symbolic rebirth, if you will) last year was aimed at establishing a new era of Kobe: 2007 AR (after rape). The truth is, we can’t live without our athletes: no matter how taboo their offense. In a 2005 ABC interview, Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban unveiled what most people are scared to admit:

From a business perspective, it’s great for the NBA. It’s reality television, people love train-wreck television and you hate to admit it, but that is the truth, that’s the reality today.

And nothing more blatantly exemplifies this mentality than our fascination with everything that is Orenthal James Simpson. The USC Heisman trophy winner and ex-NFL running back became the poster-child of, well, how to get away with murder and maintain a luxurious lifestyle. No one has bolstered societies freakish infatuation with athletes and scandal than the Simpson story. As late as mid-year of 2007, Simpson was making his rounds, signing college football memorabilia for countless “fans” who have relegated his overwhelming guilt to the back of their minds. Yet, the tantalizing footnote is that if an athlete tries to profit off their scandal, then society cries foul.
In a quasi-confession, Simpson was to release a tell-all book in 2006 describing the intricate details concerning the murder of his ex-wife and her lover—if he had murdered them. We all cried foul, the media was outraged and the attempt to cash in was blocked. Yet, though overwhelming physical evidence proves his guilt, Simpson lives without even a glint of concern in his eye. This sort of recklessness is the epitomy of the monster we’ve created.

When Michael Vick’s released in two years, his chances of returning to professional football are grim. Yet we’re sure adoring fans will be glued to their television sets, hanging on ESPN loudmouth Michael Wilbon’s every word for the details of Vick’s prison experience. We’ll all want to know what he read, what he ate and if a comeback is possible. All of his former endorsements will find a way to spin his story into one of survival, repentance and progression. The cycle will continue; the monster will gain strength; and we’ll keep touting our jerseys and wanting our signatures because their disheveled lives just make ours seem so much better.

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