A Fist Pumped in the Air in Two Places, One Made Sense

I watched it and froze for a moment. It was innocent enough. But it reminded me of a similar gesture, perhaps of its own innocence, that meant far more.

Last Saturday, the Green Bay Packers defeated the Los Angeles Rams in an NFL Divisional Playoff game. For those who follow it, it was a big deal. For Aaron Rodgers, it was a celebration.

As he's said more than once, he and his teammates miss the Packer fans, held off for the most part because of the coronavirus. About six thousand were allowed to watch at Lambeau Field as their beloved Packers performed this time, and Rodgers couldn't have been happier.

"We've missed this part of the experience," he said, because if you perform, of course, you want to know someone is watching--for real, not virtually. That gets old after a while.

So after the game, and after the obligatory, almost canned remarks to the television reporter, Rodgers jogged to the locker room. But not until he raised his fist, pumping it in victory like a signal; proud, glad, inspired.

It caught my breath: The fist. The symbol of power. Yes, of course, Rodgers is allowed to do that, and justified in sharing that moment with the faithful. He should have done that. It's been a long wait. It was a happy moment, in the shrine of Packerland.

He was having fun, enjoying the moment as the tacit leader of the quest. But it was just a game, just playing, not so serious, not nearly the kind of meaning that other things are and were.

I hadn't seen anybody do that since the afternoon of January 6, when Senator Josh Hawley did the same thing to his faithful, the ones who, not long after, with imagined grievances, stormed the U.S. Capitol. It was as if he'd given a signal.

They were gathered and ready for an invasion. He inspired them. He certainly didn't discourage them. They did their worst. They trashed the place.

When a U.S. Senator does that--proud, glad, inspired--it's a signal whether he means it that way or not. In a way, Hawley was naive. He sees himself as an underdog, carrying a banner for the downtrodden. Seeing them, he egged them on.

He was having fun, enjoying the moment as the tacit leader of the quest. But it was just a game, right? Just playing, right? Not so serious, not nearly the kind of meaning that other things are and were. No reason to make that much of a big deal out of it.

But it was a big deal, one of the biggest of all deals. It was not a happy moment. It was an extremely intense and angry one. The crowd of rioters stood poised like panthers, awaiting their prey. Hawley invited them with his raised fist: Go ahead. 

They did, of course. They celebrated their racism by ripping apart a working national shrine and looking for, thank heaven not finding, legislators to harm or kill. (One wonders what they would have done if they'd found Hawley. Would they have even recognized him?)

Just the kind of inheritance to be expected from someone who got elected president by the back door, on a technicality, not taking any of it very seriously. It's all basically a joke, right? So raise your fist and get the cheers and put up a token protest that you say is meaningful but nobody in their right mind does--except lots of fools out of their right minds had destruction as their agenda, and carried it out.

You went to Stanford and you backed the rejection of the legal process by which the president is elected? What the hell did they teach you there? Is this what you think is civil disobedience? Is this the proper descendant of Thoreau's tradition? To wreck the very Capitol in which you're supposed to represent the people of Missouri? Who are you, Hawley, some snot-nosed punk?

Regardless of future results, Packer fans who feel welcome in Lambeau Field will pack up their gear at season's end and await the next kickoff. Regardless of future results, insurrectionists who tore up the one place everyone's supposed to be able to go and feel welcome will be despised and diminished. Sports have their pattern, but in the end, their cycles lend to their temporariness. Not politics. They have lasting effects on people's lives.

By the way, Aaron Rodgers gave half a million dollars out-of-pocket to support small businesses. He didn't brag about it. He didn't posture. He just did it.

The feelings that Aaron Rodgers leaves with us will last perpetually. So will the feelings, the lawlessness and the nihilism that Josh Hawley have created. Which set would you rather remember?

Be well. Be careful. Wear a mask. One day closer to a vaccine. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark