A few weeks ago, sports media personality Stephen A. Smith tweeted VISUALS MATTER (the caps were his) in response to graphic photos of Dallas Cowboys player Greg Hardy's girlfriend's battered body, inspiring an outpouring of outrage and confusion from readers, including myself. My first response was personal. I tweeted, "I didn't have visuals. Does that mean it didn't happen?" I made a few more points, before re-directing my energy from people who simply DON'T GET IT.
MLB has also been in the mix of the domestic violence debate with a new Domestic Violence Policy, ushered in by new baseball commissioner Rob Manfred. And, of course, they've had many incidents of domestic abuse by players. Most of the time their reaction to those incidents was hands off. They didn't seem to feel that personal misconduct that included violence against a woman was their business. They acted like helpless bystanders, not employers with high standards and a lot of power. There's a union protecting players, but the policy was implemented and it is getting quite a test.
In November, Rockies shortstop Jose Reyes was arrested for abusing his wife. The details were chilling. He'd allegedly grabbed her by the throat and threw her into a glass door. Reaction varied on social media, but for the most part, baseball fans weren't defending Reyes.
Late Monday, news broke that Cincinnati pitcher Aroldis Chapman being involved in a domestic dispute that led to police being called. The report filed that night made it's way to the Los Angeles Dodgers, and a trade from the Reds that appeared definite was halted. Again, most of the reaction was male and female fans of the game, as well as the media, having a fair debate and making no excuses for Chapman. The report included an account of Chapman shooting off a gun in a garage and shoving and choking his then girlfriend, who's also the mother of his child. The infant was present in the house at the time.
I felt confident that MLB was going to handle this in a manner that showed how serious they are about that domestic violence policy. Today was too soon to know. But then Dusty Baker spoke.
During a press conference, the Washington Nationals manager was asked about Chapman and said several things, including, "Who's to say if the allegations are true? And who's to say what causes problems? He's a heck of a guy." He went on to say that he thinks "we need to get them both in a room and try to come up with something."
In one moment, Dusty Baker opened the flood gates of domestic abuse apologizing.
The language about getting them into a room to work it out, is the typical way that abusers make their victims feel they're participants in the abuse. My ex-boyfriend whom I dated as a teenager used this tactic. I suffered permanent physical damage in my leg, he said, because I was blocking his punches. We didn't need to get in a room to work out anything. Because I had nothing to work out. And neither does the woman in those police reports.
As for abusers needing to work it out, that's also not MLB's problem. Their number one concern should be that violence has been committed against a woman. They can offer counseling services to the player that committed the abuse, and extend that to the families. But they can't go soft on this and that's exactly what Dusty Baker's words are. Soft, but utterly brutal.
That kind of 'brotherhood' BS about Chapman being 'a heck of a guy' is shameful, in light of what he's been accused of. It's more excuses that abusers live for. My abuser was popular, had a lot of friends and girls loved him. He made sure I felt uneasy around other girls or when he was out of sight. Everyone thought he was a great guy. Because he made sure everyone saw that side of him. Chapman is protected by the sports brotherhood that far too many in sports have held onto without regard for the consequences. Baker confirmed that, even if the policy, that he called 'great', is in effect, remember that Chapman's a good dude in his book because he's a pitcher that Baker likes.
Before Baker was done, he topped it all off by bringing out a domestic abuse classic.
"Who's to say what causes problems?"
In other words, who's REALLY to blame? (caps are mine) Maybe Baker could call Chapman's ex and ask her what she has to say for herself, for Chapman choking her and shooting off a gun. He can ask her what caused the problem.
Or he can ask me. I'd tell him that the cause is unknown. That any number of things can create that behavior in a person. When I'm angry, I don't physically attack a person. So, really, there's no 'cause'. Whatever was going on in my ex-boyfriend's head or Chapman and Reyes, is something they're responsible for. Not everyone around them. Chapman's "problems" , and my boyfriend's, were his to work out in a room. Not hers. Not mine.
Chapman is in a far better position than that guy. He's got a talent that a billion dollar business has, and will continue, to reward him for. He has a chance to be a better person if he chooses. But when someone like Baker makes a statement about him being a heck of a guy, and when he gets a nice payday, he may not feel the need to answer for himself.
As a woman who reports on baseball, I find these moments painful. On a personal and basic human level, that kind of sexist, cavalier garbage attitude about the value of our lives as women is unacceptable. Working in an industry that has been so behind the curve in both protecting and respecting women isn't easy. At times it makes me sick to my stomach, like it did today.
I've faced many moments of blatant sexism, experiencing verbal abuse and sexual remarks that I'd ignore or report to the team. There were times I was in a clubhouse with players who'd been arrested for violence against women. I've often interviewed these players. I've pushed down every instinct I had to ask, 'How the hell are you even allowed to be here?', because I had to do my job and have income.
But since 2013, when I first wrote here about my history with domestic violence, I've stopped caring about who I offend. If you're offended, then something's wrong. I've been more vocal about players and teams, and the way they've handled the violent behavior of their employees. And I'll continue to be.
I also no longer care to try and understand domestic violence apologists. I no longer care what being confrontational costs me. I stopped caring about standing up for my abuser or about his feelings. I stopped caring about offending players who couldn't handle showing me or other women any form of human respect. I no longer care about finding the reasons or digging deep for players accused of domestic violence or sexual assault, and do you know why? Because Major League Baseball veterans, who could be leaders, like Dusty Baker, do it for them. Players also have a bank account that says, 'You're covered.' I won't do their bidding, when Stephen A. Smith is spouting vile rhetoric that gives abusive athletes more power. (By the way, when Smith had visuals of Ray Rice beating the hell out of his fiancee, he asked us to consider PROVOCATION. Caps are his).
I'd ask fans to stop reacting to these incidents with sighs and grumbles on Twitter about how these things affect their team. Who the hell cares?
I trust MLB will do their best to adhere to a policy they created. But Baker's comments depressed me to the bone. It reminded me that kind of mentality about domestic violence exists and that we'll all just move forward.It was a frightening statement, that stopped me cold. It's not as if I hadn't heard it before. It was all too familiar.
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