What does the word legacy mean to you? In my mind, legacy is the resume you leave on the desk of life once physically gone from this earth. Legacy is the cousin of trust, genetically sharing the traits of something developed gradually over time, which can take a lifetime to build and a fraction of a second to destroy.
The boycott of the 1965 American Football League All-Star game by both black and white all-stars is the only boycott of a sporting event by its participants on record. The boycott came during the Civil Rights era, a time in American history when racism, inequality and bigotry was not only socially accepted, but was considered to be normal behavior. The boycott came decades prior to athletes making the decision to drop their warm-ups at mid court and decades before public figures came together wearing “I can’t breathe” T-shirts.
Before athletes chose to put a “hoodie” on in support of Trayvon Martin, Buffalo Bills rookie cornerback, George “Butch” Byrd, was one of those AFL all-stars who made the decision to step away from his first all-star selection due to extreme racism faced in 1965 New Orleans, Louisiana. All-star game administrators did later make the decision to change the venue of the game to Houston, TX, however, little did Byrd know that his decision to take a stand and put social injustice before sport would ultimately impede the progress of his pro football legacy.
Fast forward to 1995. I was a senior in high school preparing for a huge football game against a rival opponent. Butch Byrd, came from his home in Massachusetts to New York to evaluate me, his nephew, who he heard to be electrifying. An opening kick-off return for a touchdown and a 63 yard touchdown reception proved the gossip to be true. By this juncture, I narrowed my college choices down to Syracuse, North Carolina State, Maryland, Ole Miss and Northeastern. All of which were offering me a full-athletic scholarship in exchange for my services on the football field. I was a two-sport standout and wanted to be a part of a program that would allow me to participate in both football and track.
My only other criteria was not wanting to venture too far away from home. The “not venture too far away from home” piece translated to me having major doubt and trepidation with regard to attending school in the south due to the extreme violence and gruesome nature of racially motivated hate crimes. My interpretation of the history behind the confederate flag and the brutal stories of the racist south, in my 17 year old mind, was enough to detour this young athlete from venturing into what, at the time, was the great unknown.
Realistically speaking, the furthest south I was comfortable going was Maryland. I was close to my family in Baltimore and knew I would always find familiar faces and support no matter the adversity I faced. I was entering into the next phase of my athletic career. One step closer to appearing on Saturday afternoon, big-time, college football and one step closer to my ultimate destination of becoming a professional football player.
I had enough personal encounters with racist folks to know that racism was alive in the North as well as the South. With the ability to compare and contrast my experiences to what I learned in school and saw on the news, I was positive that my personal encounters of racism did not compare to what I learned blacks down south faced.
At the conclusion of the recruiting process, I held a press conference to announce my decision to attended Syracuse University. At the conclusion of the press conference, I signed a few autographs before quickly finding my parents to get in the car to make the drive to Orchard Park, NY. Signing autographs always had a humbling effect on me no matter the level of football. Despite how boastful or cocky I became as a teen, the excitement and joy of those kids really put the opportunity I had before me into perfect perspective. Little did those autograph seeking children know, that in less than 24 hours, the kid they looked up to would soon exhibit those exact emotions of envy and gratitude. Uncle Butch was set to receive the award for “Distinguished Service” from the Buffalo Bills and I was looking for autographs from Jim Kelly, Andre Reed and whoever else in a uniform that happen to be walking by.
The Bills, along with their explosive “K-GUN” offense, were taking on the Kansas City Chiefs who featured Joe Montana, Marcus Allen and the late great Derrick Thomas. Many family members were invited to make the trip to Buffalo, but only a few were going to be allowed onto the field for the award presentation. My father and I were two of the five family members chosen to go on the field while my uncle received his plaque.
While making our way to the field, I had goosebumps walking down the tunnel as the roar of the crowd was enough to speed the pulse of a camel. The energy, emotion, and awe inspiring feeling that came over me was a perfect visual point-of-reference for where I planned to take my football career. The power from those 73,000 hardcore Bills fans was addicting and was a feeling that I needed in my life.
As I took a look around the field, I recall seeing the Bills mascot, “Billy Buffalo”, and the pretty Bills cheerleaders, the “Buffalo Jill’s”, doing their best to stir up crowd noise. What caught my attention most, however, were the names appearing on the famed Bills ‘Ring of Honor’. Buffalo greats such as O.J. Simpson, Jack Kemp and Mike Stratton circled the stadium, serving as a constant reminder to fans of those players superior on-field accomplishments and dedication to the Bills organization. I also saw names that were not quite so familiar to me such as Patrick McGroder and Ed Abramoski. Simply because I did not immediately recognize the names didn’t meant that McGroder and Abramoski were not deserving, however, my natural thought progression led me to wonder why Butch Byrd had not been enshrined. I saw players who played the same position as Byrd with lesser statistical allure already immortalized in the ring. After all, Byrd still remains the Bills all-time leader in interceptions with 40 not to mention #42 was voted to the Buffalo Bills All-Time team which encompassed Buffalo Bill talent from 1960-2009.
As a 37 year old man, I continue to ponder these same thoughts. Is Byrd being shunned from such an honor due to his decision to boycott in 1965? Did Byrd’s decision to boycott and ignore the excitement associated with his first professional football all-star selection cause animosity and bitterness among Buffalo Bill brass that would span decades? Rhetorical questions no doubt, however does provoke thought and does set the table for some robust verbal sparring.
Continued racial strife among Americans was evident in 2014. As a result of these racially charged incidents, public figures including basketball superstars LeBron James and Derrick Rose, have been more demonstrative in their support of social injustice. Statistics, all-star games and championship rings can all add to one’s on-field legacy, however, football is only one, small piece of life that contributes to a man’s legacy.
The percentage of professional sports figures who realize the power that comes with their platform is alarmingly low. With that in mind, the number of public figures with the integrity, courage and willingness to have their actions speak louder than their profession is significantly less. My thought process leads me to believe that legacy and character are somehow intertwined. Choosing to not let your profession define who you are is a quality of a true leader and is what makes one’s legacy whole.
For professional athletes to willingly subject themselves to the scrutiny stemming from becoming involved in political debate or social injustice in such a politically correct 21st century is courageous. To make the decision to boycott during the Civil Rights era in a 1965 southern state during a high-profile all-star game is absolutely, one million percent, an entirely different beast.
Freedom of expression has an entirely different consequence when professional athletes, or any public figure for that matter, chooses to use their platform to show support and bring about awareness. Simply put, there are some issues that are bigger than sports and need action from people in positions of influence if change is to be expected.
Regardless of the context, the consequence of going against the grain and having the strength to have one’s actions speak for them can often tarnish one’s ever-so-important legacy. It may also leave a lasting impression in the mind’s of your superiors and those in decision-making positions. That is the risk you take when you make the decision to be a part of change.
Just ask Butch Byrd.