6.07.00
Men Behaving Badly — On The Field And In the Court

6.05.00
Lazio Stumbles — And Soars

6.02.00
David Fights The Racial Goliath

5.31.00
Lies, Damned Lies and the Washington Post

5.26.00
GWB, Meet JFK

5.25.00
In Defense of Sleaze

5.22.00
Living La Vida Lazio

5.19.00
A Rudy Awakening

5.17.00
A Hard Day's Knight

5.15.00
Reflections of A Non-Marching Mom

6/07/00 2:00 p.m.
Men Behaving Badly — On The Field And In the Court
We let athletes — and prosecutors — get away with murder.

Robert A. George is an editorial page writer
for the New York Post------------------------------------RAGGEDmail@aol.com

ave you heard that you can't spell "felony" without "N.F.L."? Good one, eh?

What a couple of weeks, sportswise! Indiana U.'s Bob Knight, Atlanta pitcher John Rocker, Baltimore Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis. Forget about National Review Online hiring a sportswriter. The way things are going, we'll be starting up a whole spin-off website devoted just to the foibles of athletes in society! Maybe we'll pick up the resources of the recently bankrupt APBNews.com crime site and devote it to jock mug-shots! The possibilities are endless.

All jokes aside (well, most of them, anyway), there are some interesting lessons to be drawn from the events of the last few weeks.

Lesson #1: Regardless of what you have done, if you can muster a half-hearted apology and come out of an awkward situation with something less than a felony, you will be allowed to continue competing in your chosen occupation. This is also known as Bill Clinton Postulate "A."

Lesson #2: If you can still produce at an All-Star level while exhibiting some form of contrition, you will be welcomed back with open arms and quite possibly feted by supporters of your team or organization. This is also known as Bill Clinton Postulate "B."

Lesson #3: If your contrition is something less than half-hearted and your actions cause your team to start losing games, expect your organization to drop (kick?) you so fast that your head will spin. Call this the John Rocker Corollary to Lessons #1 and #2.

Lesson # 4: This one doesn't pertain merely to situations involving athletes, but has a more general application. If you happen to be a prosecutor — especially in a high-profile criminal case — do your homework in such a fashion that, if you bring a murder indictment, try to have enough evidence that actually supports the charge.

Now, let's be clear. Baltimore Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis, even in the best-case scenario, has awful judgment when it comes to selecting friends. They are, after all, apparently, murderers. In the worst-case scenario, he is guilty of covering up for these friends and helping them concoct a cover story.

Well, Fulton County DA Paul Howard charges Lewis with first-degree murder. Did Lewis deserve it? Over the course of a week, Howard's case completely fell apart. Only one witness — a well-known con man, as it turned out — suggested that Lewis was actually physically involved in the melee that resulted in two people ending up dead. If there is anything worse than a trial that takes place in the realm of public opinion, then it must be a public-opinion exercise that takes place in the courtroom. Lewis lied to the cops about what happened that night. Howard basically used Lewis's fame against him. Was there blood in Lewis's limo? Yes. But, unlike the O.J. case, there was none on his body. No knife, this time. Or gloves, or shoes, or DNA. In fact, there was nothing to physically connect Lewis to the crime. And so, the DA had to depend solely upon witnesses — who, he complained, changed their testimony on the stand. With a case collapsing around him, Howard plea-bargained Lewis down to a misdemeanor of obstruction of justice, in return for testifying against his two co-defendants. Of course, as one defense attorney noted, the state had spent weeks talking about how Lewis was a liar — yet now the jury was to believe his testimony on behalf of the state.

Howard may yet win conviction of the other two defendants. But, generally, his conduct so far gets him the "Robert Johnson Award for Prosecutorial Misconduct." Johnson is the District Attorney for the Bronx. He is notorious in New York for his adamant refusal to seek the death penalty, regardless of how heinous a given murder is. But Johnson's recent claim to infamy stems from his bringing murder charges against the cops in the Amadou Diallo shooting. There were any number of other options open to him: He could have decided not to indict (though, given the political climate, that was probably impossible). He could have brought manslaughter or "depraved indifference" charges against the cops. On those charges, Johnson might still not have been able to win conviction, but the case might have been closer than what actually happened — when he tried to get a jury to believe that four white police officers left their houses with the intent of killing an unarmed black man.

Howard and Johnson are textbook cases of prosecutors who manage to damage their own reputations as they cavalierly wield their power to indict.

Lesson #5: Finally, if you are a conservative publication or author, avoid drawing broad conclusions about the role of athletes in society — especially if the athlete in question has such a temperamental personality that he will engage in conduct that invariably proves embarrassing to all concerned. Check out Dennis Prager's article in the June 5 Weekly Standard.

The cover has John Rocker with his tongue hanging halfway down his body. The story focuses on Rocker as the favored bete noire of liberal hysteria. Prager makes some good points. However, it doesn't exactly help that Rocker went ballistic last weekend on the Sports Illustrated writer who first disclosed Rocker's views about the people of New York. Rocker has now been sent off to the minors, ostensibly to fix his pitching problems. Right.

Regardless, any sympathy that might have been extended to Rocker after Prager's piece has largely gone out the window now.

Oh, yes, this columnist recognizes that this entire column can be seen as a violation of Lesson #5. But, hey, this is known as poetic license. Or something like that.

Columns / Current Issue / Goldberg File / Nota Bene
Washington Bulletin / Subscribe / Ad Info / Home