Why I love The Great Jim Brown

by Dr. Boyce Watkins

www.BoyceWatkins.net



I got a phone call today. I get a lot of calls from “observers” (translation: supporters and haterologists), and I appreciate every single one of them. However, being as busy as I am, I usually don’t have time to call anyone back. I call my mama back and if my daughter would call me, she would be at the top of my list. I also call my grandmother. That’s enough to fill the free time at airports or on the way to the office.

If I call you back, I am returning the call because I either love you or respect you. I don’t return calls just because I think the caller is a “big shot”. In this business, everyone is into networking and butt kissing so they can meet this important person or that one. I’ve always felt that life is too short for that crap. For example, my homeboy Marc Lamont Hill at Temple University (one of the top black scholars in America), Al “The Inspiration” Duncan (an amazing public speaker and youth advocate) in Atlanta and Bill Thomason (a top black money manager) are brothers I always call back immediately because I respect their integrity. It’s really that simple for me.

On this day, I had some free time. I was driving to the office and I had a message from a woman named Karen. Karen’s family is full of Syracuse alumni. Honestly, most calls and emails I get from Syracuse alumni are not all that favorable. While I get cheers from the black and latino alums, the reality is that Syracuse has not had a strong historical black and latino presence. This is doubly true on the faculty, where a tenured professor of color is incredibly rare.
But I respect everyone, and I decided to use my free time to call Karen back. I was a little nervous, since I really wanted to talk to my grandmother. The risk was that I would miss a great conversation with grandma just so another alum could yell at me for being an outspoken black man.

But Karen was worth the investment because she was super duper cool. It also turned out that Karen is the daughter of the greatest alumnus in Syracuse University history, the great Jim Brown.

Jim was not amazing for what he did on the field. Yes, he had super human strength and was such an outstanding athlete that they changed the rules to find ways to stop him. But that doesn’t impress me, for black men have always possessed amazing athletic ability. Jim’s intellect impressed me far more than his athletic ability, for he is every bit as intelligent as he was athletic. But truth be told, while his intellect impressed the heck out of me, it didn’t impress the HELL out of me. Don’t get me wrong, he was a smart brother, but there are a lot of smart black male athletes, in spite of what the media tells you.

What impressed the HELL out of me was Jim Brown’s COURAGE. That is what left his mark on the university, and that is what will leave his mark on the world. While he may not be perfect, his strength inspires me as a black man to focus and overcome all that lies around me.

I have a Trinity of strength when it come to my black male “adopted fathers”. In this trinity, there is Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali and Jim Brown. I adopted these men many years ago when I saw my intelligent, highly educated, rich, famous African American predecessors selling out in droves. It seemed that the only black men rising to prominent positions in American society were the ones who most readily allowed themselves to be fully emasculated. Sure, these men might speak big behind closed doors, but out in public, there was a degree of weakness, cowardice and commitment to self-preservation that made me shudder. These were the men who would tell me that speaking out in favor of the poor would get me into trouble. They would tell me to leave behind the brothers in prison and the kids in the educational system because it might jeopardize my chance to drive a Jaguar one day. While I listen to such men respectfully, I found myself having a midlife crisis at the age of 25, wondering if there was a way to have a more meaningful existence.

I miss the days when athletes used their platforms for something other than another McDonald’s endorsement. It is most sad and ironic that the athletes with the most wealth and greatest power also happen to be the least educated and the least willing to become educated. Individuals such as Michael Jordan become about as politically-neutral as a can of spinach, all so he can turn his $200 million dollar fortune into a $300 million dollar fortune. I have always been of the opinion that black prosperity and social activism can go hand in hand. We can all continue Dr. King’s work, whether it is on the streets or in the board room. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.

I connected with Malcolm just because he was Malcolm. Malcolm X was clearly the greatest leader in American history. I connected with Muhammad Ali because he is from Louisville, my hometown, and also my second cousin. He taught me that a black man does not have to hold his head down in shame and weakness when the cameras turn on. I connected with Jim Brown because his spirit lives on my campus, Syracuse University. Jim created the path for me to do what I do today, and it was his ability to endure the firestorms of Syracuse controversy that remind me to stay focused in my endeavors.

The great shame of our generation is that someone convinced us that our existence is about one person. It is important for all of us to remember that we are part of something greater, and the greatest gift you can give to future generations is to clear a path for someone else to run through. Malcolm gave his life, Muhammad gave the prime of his boxing career, and Jim risked his life so that my generation could walk through doors that had been previously closed. I plan to march through that door with dignity and open another door for those behind me.

That is what scholars and intellectual leaders are supposed to do.

Dr. Boyce Watkins is a Finance Professor at Syracuse University and author of “What if George Bush were a Black Man?” For more information, please visit www.BoyceWatkins.com.

Strictly for the Ballaz: By Dr. Boyce Watkins

Hey Peeps,

first, for those who want to know what I think about the Palin-Biden debates, I have few opinions (the election doesn't excite me very much, since our liberation will come through economics, not through skewed American political systems). I can only say that Sarah Palin impresses me as the least qualified human being I've ever seen run for political office. If she were a Black man with similar qualifications, she would probably be unemployed.

For those who want to keep talking about the Financial Crisis and managing money, please join our group at this link.

My students and I are blogging about money at www.DrBoyceFinance.com and YourBlackMoney.com. I had an interesting conversation the other day with my father about the financial crisis. He has a Bill Cosby mindset, and many of you know what I think about Cosby (he irritates me). However, I believe you can learn from anyone, so I have respect for my father and Cosby, and I listen to them both. When it came to the crisis (which my father was able to fortunately avoid), he had these interesting thoughts:

1) He never let anyone mess with his money....that even meant relatives and friends asking for loans. It wasn't because he didn't love them or feel the strain on his relationships. It was because he knows that when the doo-doo hits the fan, there would be no one there to save his butt.

2) He never let credit card companies pimp him for his resources - His perfect credit made him a target of every company seeking to dupe him into some kind of home equity or credit card loan. He ripped the offers up and put them in the garbage.

3) He never let anyone mess with his good credit - when you have good credit, someone is always seeking to try to use your good credit to make up for their own bad credit (i.e. co-signing for friends and relatives). His logic was that if you don't care enough to protect your own credit, you probably would not care very much about his.

While my father and I argue on a regular basis (he thinks that many of my ideas on social issues are a bunch of garbage), I find that hearing alternative viewpoints gives me balance. So, like Bill Cosby, I will always l love my father and respect him. Now, Juan Williams, another Black conservative, is nothing more than an educated version of Flavor Flav. Fox News will always be able to pay some Black man to say ridiculous things about his own people. I have no respect for Juan.

I was feeling the need to be poetic today, so I thought I would share another lyrical piece on the NCAA. This is dedicated to every brother in the NCAA who thinks or thought he was going to the NBA or NFL because some coach put false dreams in his head. You might be a great athlete, but you're never truly a balla if you fail to educate yourself. Even if you get rich, an uneducated man is a vulnerable man.

Strictly for the Ballaz

by Dr. Boyce Watkins

www.BoyceWatkins.com

The balla on campus has now just arrived.

I'll sign all your footballs for 9.95.

The cheerleaders and honeys all treat me real nice

My coach calls me “The Messiah”, just like Jesus Christ

My head may be swollen, like a big blimp.

But I deserve all these props cause I'm such a big pimp.

They even told me "don't worry bout class"

As they shake my hand softly and fill it with cash.

My hummer is blingin, with TVs in the back.

My 24s spinning, like my nickname was Shaq.

My diamonds are placed in my radio clock.

My system be boomin from way down the block.

The fellas get jealous as I roll through the spot.

Them fools always scheming to get what I got.

My girl is so tight, as she sits in my ride.

But she's not as tight as my girls on the side.

My greatness rivals the angels above

They treat me so special, this has got to be love!

About game number 5, I jump for a pass

And this 6 foot 5 brother knocks me right on my ass.

I leap from the tackle, "Man, you didn't hurt me!"

But I fall back to the ground, with a crunch in my knee.

The doctor says to me as I swell up with tears

"This might be the end of your football career”

Now that I can no longer jump for the ball.

The coach that once loved me ain't returning my calls.

I once got the line "Your tuition is paid"

I now get the line "Did you try financial aid?”

My girls on the side done got kind of rude.

They look at me funny, not stuttin me dude.

As I watch my gold hummer get towed down the street.

All I can do is stare at my feet

I then see the joke, and I was the butt.

The coach didn’t love me, man I was his slut!

While they lined my pocket with a few hundred bucks.

Their dollars were delivered by flat bed trucks.

Did you ever take a second to think?

Why the coach's wife shows up to games wearing mink?

While my mama is slaving as somebody's cook.

Thinking her baby's off hitting the books.

She goes Greyhound on game day, so her back is in pain.

The coach and his wife came by private plane.

One hit, then pow! I'm in a chair with steel wheels.

I bet the coach's son will never know how that feels.

As the athletic department decides on my fate.

They then figure out that I am only dead weight.

No paper in hand, I'm shipped back to the hood.

I can't pay for college, man I'll be home for good

I sit on the corner, as the summer heat steams.

I live in the bottle to wash away broken dreams.

Rather than getting calls from scouts, fans and coaches.

I'm in my mama’s crib, with mice, rats and roaches.

I once was defined by my strength and my speed.

But I now realize that wasn't all that I need.

What would I change if I could press rewind?

I would work a lot harder to strengthen my mind.