The Political Culture of Professional Sports

Fall is in the air, and that means chill nights, pumpkin ubiquity, and legions of weekend football widows. It also means the crowning of champions in the two sports most dear to the American intellectual: politics and baseball.

On occasion, those last two have more in common than just seasonal alignment and the fascination of the chattering classes. For me, as a New England native, the greatest sports moment in my lifetime was the Red Sox’ improbable journey to the 2004 World Series championship. The natural effect of that historic achievement was to unify Sox fans and underdog-supporters everywhere. But that effect was quickly undermined by that fall’s polarizing presidential election. Indeed, the champagne and light beer had barely dried off the clubhouse walls before the Red Sox’ historic triumph was exploited for political gain. Within days of the clinching game, owner John Henry, chairman Tom Werner and general manager Theo Epstein appeared at a New Hampshire campaign rally for Democratic challenger John Kerry. Meanwhile, hobbled hero Curt Schilling made robocalls in several states for incumbent Republican George W. Bush.

This was a far cry from the political boldness of Muhammad Ali declaring, “My enemy is the White people, not the Viet Cong," or Tommie Smith and John Carlos raising black-gloved fists in the Black Panther salute on the medal podium at the 1968 Olympics.

Yet, it was far more overtly political than my generation was used to. Professional sports was apolitical as we grew up with it, through the Reagan Revolution, Clinton triangulation, and even the ascent of former Rangers owner George W. Bush. The rare openly political act, such as Carlos Delgado’s protest against the U.S. invasion of Iraq, came as a surprise (and led some to boo). The professional sports we grew up on was also rapidly monetized, as the buds of 24-hour cable sports, free agency, and mega-endorsements began to bloom.

Given the concurrence of pro sports’ monetization and depoliticization, it is easy to infer a causal relationship. As Michael Jordan famously demurred, when asked to support a civil rights leader’s challenge to Republican lion Jesse Helms, in Jordan’s home state of North Carolina: “Republicans buy shoes, too.”

This might explain the political exploitation of the Red Sox championship, at least in part. Schilling was not only notoriously outspoken, he also had a contract that would take him through his 40th birthday and into retirement. Henry, Werner and Epstein were supporting one of their team’s U.S. senators, someone who lacked the diehard Sox fandom common to most New Englanders (remember “Manny Ortez”?) but was nonetheless a valuable political ally for the ambitious ownership group. Just as importantly, they were opposing a hard-right candidate in Bush who had become persona non grata in left-leaning New England—conflict with the Bush White House prompted centrist senator Jim Jeffords, who came from a long line of Republican politicians, to leave the party. In fact, New Hampshire was the only state that had gone for Bush in 2000 but went against him in 2004.

However, the Jordan rationale is almost certainly inadequate to explain major sports figures’ lack of political engagement. While Schilling was recording robo-calls for the 2004 presidential campaign stretch-run, his peers remained largely on the sidelines. Not only did they not make public endorsements, they kept their wallets closed. In the hotly contested 2004 presidential campaign, pro athletes in baseball, basketball, football, hockey, golf and car racing gave a grand total of just $55,950. (Owners and sports commissioners, far fewer in number, gave over six times that amount.) Even Obama’s historic campaign did not inspire many athletes, Black or otherwise, to engage politically.

Another common explanation is that modern sports professionals have little time or interest for much besides their work. Former Democratic U.S. congressman Tom McMillen—who nearly won an Olympic basketball gold medal and played with Phil Jackson and (fellow Rhodes Scholar) Bill Bradley on the 1977 Knicks—theorizes that pro athletes tend towards “self-absorption.”
Perhaps, then, it is not merely good business to stay out of politics publicly. Political apathy, it seems, is ingrained in pro sports culture. This may largely be a product of the social and economic isolation of pro athletes. Jets linebacker Bart Scott suggests that athletes either simply do not think about politics or “feel they are too rich for anything to touch them.”

The image-consciousness and insularity theories are supported by retired pro athletes’ increased willingness to take publicly political positions. For example, of the pro athletes who have recently endorsed a presidential candidate, the vast majority have been retired or on the verge thereof. In fact, even Michael Jordan, the protypical apolitical, but now retired, gave $2,100 to Obama's presidential campaign coffers. Moreover, many retired pro athletes leverage their broad name recognition into political careers (sure beats selling insurance or used cars!).

Interestingly, when professional athletes and other prominent sports figures do act politically, they overwhelmingly tend to hew to the right, a la Schilling. Of the money given by pro athletes and coaches to presidential candidates during the 2004 cycle, over 80% went to Bush. Although Obama came closer to McCain in his victorious 2008 campaign, he still trailed by a large margin.Meanwhile, pro athletes who go into politics as a second career overwhelmingly do so as Republicans, from AFL MVP and vice-presidential candidate Jack Kemp to baseball Hall of Famer and longtime U.S. Senator Jim Bunning. Last Tuesday, former NBA-er Chris Dudley was nearly voted governor of Oregon and former NFL-er Jon Runyan became the latest New Jersey representative in Congress (where he will dwarf everyone, even Rep. Heath Shuler). Moreover, to the extent current athletes and other sports figures are politically active, they tend to support Republicans. For example, Tony LaRussa and Albert Pujols made headlines recently for attending Glen Beck’s Rally to Restore Honor on the mall in Washington, DC. And, in fact, most sports fans identify as Republican (though their generally high voter turnout is at odds with pro athletes’ apparent tendency towards political apathy).

Why is this? One theory along those lines, advanced during George W. Bush’s second term, is that athletes (and perhaps sports fans by extension) favor “winners.” Of course, that theory rings hollow in 2010, when both parties are internally divided and viewed unfavorably by the public. But the eye to sports culture may be true.

As with their apathy, athletes’ rightward lean probably has some basis in individualistic, selfish motivation. They are wealthy and Republicans tend to advocate for tax cuts. But most sports fans (or voters) are not rich, yet they still lean right (and have high voter turnout). That is to say, the entire axis of the sports world tilts right.

There is a noteable exception, however: the NBA. The Association has produced prominent Democrats such as former U.S. senator and presidential candidate Bill Bradley and Detroit mayor David Bing, as well as leftwing activist Adonal Foyle, who founded Democracy Matters. In the 2008 election, President Obama had the support of former NBA greats Magic Johnson, Patrick Ewing, Alonzo Mourning, Charles Barkley and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He even benefited from a $20,000 contribution to the DNC White House Victory Fund by Lebron James, Jordan’s “air apparent” as shoe-shilling king. And NBA fans, unlike fans of other major sports, skew left themselves. This seems appropriate, given that Obama is our first basketball president (and first Democrat sports president) following hunting president Teddy Roosevelt, bowling president Richard Nixon, football president Gerald Ford, and baseball presidents George H.W. Bush (played at Yale) and George W. Bush (gave us the greatest first pitch in history).
So, it seems that community and context has a large role to play in the political identity of athletes and fans. Former major league catcher, Brian Johnson (who is openly liberal) opines that the overwhelming majority of baseball players are conservative Republicans because of the expectations of their peers and their families. His argument is of course perfectly intuitive. But if it is about the social norms, where do they come from (and why is the NBA unique)? That is a question for another day, a tough one probably irreducible to any one factor such as income, religion or education. It is a question I am pondering as I make my way through Identity Economics, a thought provoking contribution to behavioral economics by Nobel-laureate George Akerlof and protégé Rachel Kranton. Perhaps the punditocracy will come up with an answer as it divides the electorate into ever-smaller categories. From the same folks who gave you NASCAR dads—NFL practice-squad-linebacker oenophiles!