Nobody could have seen the above sentence — the headline of this piece — coming. Ten years ago, Colin Kaepernick was a good college quarterback in a minor conference. His fascinating background — he’d been born and placed for adoption in Wisconsin, where a family that had lost two boys previously to heart defects took him in — was not yet well known even to fans of the Nevada Wolfpack, the team for which he played. In fact, The New York Times, prior to Kaepernick’s stellar senior season, wrote a piece about how anonymous he was on campus, led with an anecdote about him interning at an apparel store and selling a jersey for “the quarterback” to one unsuspecting fan.
Today you would need to work tirelessly to find a sentient American who hasn’t heard of Kaepernick — and who hasn’t formed strong opinions about him in one way or another. He is one of the most polarizing figures in a polarized decade, driving debate everywhere from television to Twitter to the proverbial diner counters and corner bars where America gathers.
My argument from early on — Kaepernick’s protest began in the preseason of 2016 — has been that it worked as intended. He sat, at first, and then kneeled (at the suggestion of Army vet Nate Boyer) during the playing of the national anthem precisely so that we would talk about the issues he wanted us to talk about: police violence directed toward black men and the systemic racism that enables it and shapes so much of how we live and have always lived in America.
The popular, cynical view is that nobody has ever changed their mind thanks to Facebook comment screeds. And, sure, I doubt your Marine uncle was swayed by the rhetoric of your freshman roommate (neither of whom you’ve seen or talked to in years) or vice versa, but Kaepernick launched literally millions of these discussions. Let’s not pretend that the culture remained unmoved (and, at the very least, people were compelled to state what they believe.)
Kaepernick’s protest also gave rise to other voices, even just within sports: Megan Rapinoe was an early adopter, kneeling during the anthem in September of 2016. Even after her breakout performance this year — in the World Cup, and as a voice fighting for the oppressed — she has lauded Kaepernick’s leadership and sacrifice.
Kaepernick’s protests also gave us the forceful words of Dallas sportscaster Dale Hansen. It pushed Alejandro Villanueva, a former Army Ranger who became an offensive tackle for the Pittsburgh Steelers, to reflect on his own service and fighting for the right of other Americans to peacefully protest. Warriors coach Steve Kerr rose to eloquent defense of Kaepernick and continued speaking out on injustice. Cornerback Richard Sherman ripped off his own characteristically scathing and prescient rant about police brutality. Long-time defensive lineman Chris Long became an important voice in the wake of the Kaepernick controversy.
The list goes on and on and on. Kaepernick became a political cudgel for Donald Trump in the run-up to the 2016 election, and the president continued using the blackballed QB to stir his supporters throughout his term. It seems a safe bet to say Kaepernick will be mentioned as the 2020 campaign boils over in the coming months.
For his part, Kaepernick has avoided the public light — unless he has control over how his image is used. He very much started this fire but has rarely stoked it, repeatedly declining to sit for interviews for the myriad stories done about him. He has donated, mostly quietly, at least a $1 million to various charities. He also signed with Nike and allowed the giant corporation to glom onto the authentic passions he stirred (a move, as our Hemal Jhaveri points out, we should be skeptical of) but in this stage of capitalism there are few, if any, un-conflicted ways to work (Kaepernick will make Nike and himself millions in the deal, but at least some will go to charity, too).
When Kaepernick has spoken, it’s mostly been to say that he’s still a football player. He has worked out all this time, hoping to play again (that he’s good enough for another shot in the NFL was never a serious question, as our Steven Ruiz has shown definitively.) An NFL team signing Kaepernick — or even seriously considering it — seems more unlikely than ever after the NFL arranged a bizarre workout for him earlier this year that predictably fell apart and scorched Kaepernick anew for critics who believe he lacks the desire to put in the work to play at the highest level.
There’s little evidence to suggest that those critiques have any merit. What Kaepernick does continue to lack, though, is the willingness to put his beliefs to the side in order to play in the NFL. That’s one thing he’s taught us: how important subservience is to NFL owners. If the decade began with some belief that the NFL was the ultimate meritocracy then anyone with sense sees now that such sentimental notions were nothing but a facade.
What’s most shocking, in retrospect, is how early Kaepernick acknowledged that fact. In late August of 2016, after he was first noticed sitting for the anthem, he gave an exclusive interview to the NFL’s Steve Wyche to explain his decision — “I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color,” he said — but also showed clearly that he understood the stakes.
“I am not looking for approval. I have to stand up for people that are oppressed. … If they take football away, my endorsements from me, I know that I stood up for what is right.”
He knew it would come to this and he did it anyway.
Of course others sacrificed far more over the last decade. In wars. While policing the streets. When trying to tell the truth about governments in places where speech is not free.
There’s no need to exalt Colin Kaepernick beyond what actually happened, which is that a man who loved the spoils of the game — Remember how he kissed his bicep after touchdowns? And then we called it “Kaepernicking?” And he did it in front of a new Jaguar? And taught it to Michelle Obama? — gave them up. A bi-racial kid — his birth mother was white, his biological father black — raised in a well-off white family who never felt quite at home made it to the NFL — to the Super Bowl! — and had it all but lost much of it when he decided to stand up for others who couldn’t. He kneeled during a two-minute song many of us ignored (gotta run out and buy that $12 Coors Light at some point, right?) and we’ve talked about that simple act and what it means or should mean ever since.
You may not believe his cause to be righteous (I do, and think his influence is and will continue to be widespread in ways we’re only starting to understand.) You may find his methods disrespectful (I think peaceful protest is the most patriotic thing you can do.) But you’ve thought about Colin Kaepernick in a way that you were rarely forced to think about an athlete unless you were alive when Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough.