Pro Athletes: What Do They Owe Their Public?

I only, sort of, rubbed up against the public in my athletic exploits once, and it was fleeting indeed.

While playing college quarterback one Saturday, the team moved quickly down the field and we scored a touchdown, always nice to do. I returned to the bench and got a drink of gatorade. 

Unbeknownst to me, a frat brother had invited some kids from town to the game and got them a front-row seat. He called out to me, wanting me to sign autographs.

I was really surprised, and flattered, at the gesture. No one had ever done that before. But it would look untoward to sign autographs in the first quarter. Besides, we had most of the game left.

Quickly, I had to make a decision. I couldn't betray the kids; that's part of who we were there for. But I didn't want my attention unnecessarily diverted, either. After all, the defense could quickly cause a turnover, and I'd be called back into the game instantaneously. How would it look to be signing autographs?

So I told the frat brother to be sure to bring the kids around when the game ended. I'd be happy to sign then.

I went back to the game, and things didn't go as well. I was replaced later on, but brought back in. We rallied to win in the last minute.

I looked around to fulfill my promise. No kids were there. The frat brother and kids either had to leave early, or they might have seen that I wasn't quite the star they thought I was, and didn't think my autograph meant as much. Oh, well. We won anyhow.

Being an athletic hero brings with it some added perks and obligations. After all, an adoring public wants something of a return on the investment it's making: Tickets, sportswear, following, loyalty. You can't turn a cold shoulder. Or, you can, but poor performance and bad luck wear away at that loyalty in a hurry.

As the stakes grow higher, obligations increase, too. Pro athletes are pretty much expected to do some things, like (yes) sign autographs and do interviews. Some of these interviews are one-on-one, often fawning. Some are with a press pool the members of which aren't always completely supportive.

I used to be part of the press pool for what was the Greater Milwaukee Open golf tournament. I once pressed a pro on what was then a growing experiment: Wearing the kinds of shoes that didn't have spikes. He thought that was almost un-American. I suggested an advantage. He got real ornery. He actually looked like he might try to start a fight with me.

I backed away because, while I wanted a story, I didn't want to be the story. If you've watched New England Patriots' coach Bill Belichick in a post-game press pool questioning, you know he's there in the most token way, trying to be sufficiently brief and annoying so he gets to leave in the quickest possible time.

So there are people who get this and literally go through the motions. But tennis star Naomi Osaka, one of the big names in the game, doesn't even think she can do that. She'd rather go without the press at all, and dropped out of the French Open, one of the sport's Big Four, in a form of protest.

Osaka described her issues in terms of anxiety and depression at being in the middle of people who weren't necessarily wanting her to succeed. Well, yes. That's a perfectly normal and even expected role of some of the reporters at any sports gathering. They're mingled in with the well-wishers.

Aren't they, then, exactly like the crowd that just watched them? Seems that way to me. To think that you can control the press is being--and I'll bet Osaka never thought of this--like ex-, who thought he could control everything. Uh-uh. Never happens no matter how hard you try.

So is the press making her depressed or the thought that someone else is expecting something else of her? I'm not sure. I don't, and didn't, connect with that sport like I did with sports like football and golf. But she's still a professional athlete, still has an adoring public (and deservedly so), and owes them something.

Maybe she doesn't think appearing in front of a press pool amounts to that owing. I would call that misguided.

It's also insular. She may be one of the very best in the world, but she's not the only tennis player in the world. Others, too, are striving, and have in some cases accomplished much of what she has. What if they, too, decided to follow in her footsteps and ignore the very press that gives them successful publicity, the very thing that gets people to admire and follow them? Could they be so confident that the numbers of fans would remain the same? Will they applaud Osaka, or give her strange and hostile looks next time?

Maybe that's what's driving Aaron Rodgers in his strange holdout against the Green Bay Packers. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe he realizes that the fans would show up anyhow. That, ironically (or cynically, take your pick), might leave him justifiably alone to deal with the team as he wishes.

I have no feel for that one, either. But all big-time athletes have some obligation to their public. If Osaka is having depression and anxiety issues--which I don't wish to diminish; it happens--perhaps an accommodation can be reached; a post-tournament or post-match private comment then distributed to the press. Or maybe a lid placed on the number of questions allowed. While still not fair to the others, at least it would be a recognition that coverage and attention matters and a public accounting is made for all, by all.

Osaka left the French Open before competing (French Open officials insisting, by the way, that they reached out to her and her issues), suggesting that she was looking forward to working with the press to come up with a solution. I hope so. Women's tennis needs stars. She cannot stay one by just getting the ball over the net.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark