The hype of the Cory Spinks vs. Zab Judah “Arch Rivals” bout for the welterweight championship stirred up my feelings of contempt for the sport of boxing. It is the most barbaric of so-called sports, requiring little skill and calling the victor the person who can beat the stuffing out of his opponent. It reeks of more machismo than most other male sports and is a step away from the arena of gladiators. Established in 18th century England, boxing originally had a definite class component, as working-class men were selected to duke it out before aristocrats making wagers on the winner.
Before the historic fight in St. Louis, before tickets sold out, before promoter Don King took over the Lou, before Zab creamed homeboy Cory, robbing local fans of a victory party, the Public Broadcasting Service aired a documentary on Jack Johnson. It was rightfully entitled Unforgivable Blackness: The Rise and Fall of Jackson Johnson. It was totally intriguing. It gave me a different perspective on Johnson, the first black heavyweight champion; it also gave me a new respect for him.
What I had remembered about Johnson was that he preferred white women to black because he claimed that sisters presented him with unnecessary hardships. Yet it was cavorting with white women that sicced the Justice Department on him for violating the Mann Act. It was one of those women who became the state’s chief witness. And it was the series of events around the prosecution of the Mann Act that ultimately led to Johnson’s demise.
Also, Johnson was a woman batterer, which always blemishes a man’s character for me.
In his documentary, acclaimed director Ken Burns put Johnson in context, highlighting the social and political themes of that day. At a time when he could have become “strange fruit,” Jack Johnson instead became a cultural icon.
He was intelligent, defiant, debonair and articulate. His refusal to be cornered into the racist and subhuman box that society had built for black folks was unthinkable. His triumph over Tommy Burns for the heavyweight championship launched a search for “The Great White Hope.” His fight career came to embody the struggles of African Americans for dignity and justice. No wonder his defeat of the “Great White Hope,” James Jeffries, ignited a national wave of violence by whites against blacks. A law even had to be passed that prohibited the distribution of the fight film to keep down the flames of racial hatred.
After Johnson’s defeat to Jess Williard, the prototype of a black boxer was revamped. No smiling in a photograph, no trash-talking in or out of the ring, no relationships with white women. In short, a humble and meek negro. Joe Louis, the next champ, and others who followed him, stayed in those restricting boundaries. That is, until Muhammad Ali.
Ali remains my all-time favorite athlete, less on his boxing style and accomplishments and more on his character and political stands. He was willing to sacrifice his title along with future fame and fortune on principle, most notably his stand against the war in Vietnam.
One is hard-pressed these days to find a black athlete associated with principles. For most of them, principle is the part of the loan they’re paying on for that mansion, yacht or Hummer. Their bling-bling lifestyle smacks of selfishness, individualism and hedonism. To me, this kind of blackness is unforgivable.