The Next Time You Watch A Pro Football Game, Remember This Face.... Tuesday Journal

We notice the scars...but mostly the eyes, haunted by a cruelty he cannot comprehend...dark, hollow eyes, the light gone... resigned, asking, "why?"

For some reason the story passed  below my radar.  It was December 23, and attentions were focused on other activities, the holiday frenzy.

On that date, National Football League teams each named one player to receive the Ed Block Courage Award.  Ed Block, a long-time athletic trainer for the Baltimore Colts and a well-respected humanitarian, established the Ed Block Foundation, dedicated to the awareness and prevention of child abuse:

"The Ed Block Courage Award Foundation is dedicated to improving the lives of neglected children and ending the cycle of abuse. The purpose is to raise Awareness and Prevention of child abuse. That objective is coupled with the Foundation's commitment to celebrating players of inspiration in the NFL."

And on December 23, the Philadelphia Eagles cast their vote to hand the award, reportedly by unanimous decision, to Michael Vick.

Vick's long and sordid story of animal neglect and abuse, and his conviction for conspiracy to organize a dog-fighting operation from his home in Virginia, intensified my outrage at his receiving this particular recognition.  It served to whitewash his reputation and dilute his cruel behavior.

When I regained calm, I told myself to be rational. 

I told myself that everyone needs a chance to atone, to be given another chance to overcome past mistakes.  Then I realized that he had been given this chance, in a big way, when the NFL reinstated him.  Anyone else convicted of the same charge would have a much less glamorous and lucrative road to redemption.

I told myself that the players who voted for him knew more about him and his challenges and tribulations than I did, and that maybe he was remorseful.  Then I read his statement after winning the award, sounding every bit as though he felt he deserved it. As I read it, I thought about the animal on top of this page:

"I've had to overcome a lot, more than probably one single individual can bear," Vick said. "Take a look at what I've been through. You ask certain people to walk in my shoes, they probably couldn't do it. Probably 95 percent of the people in this world -- because nobody had to endure what I've been through, situations I've been put in, situations I've placed myself in, decisions that I've made -- whether they were good or bad."

I told myself that it was an industry award, voted by the team, and in the long run, it had no significance;  that the team may award any member as it sees fit.  Then I realized that the honor was incongruent with what Vick perpetrated.  I realized that, had Vick done to children what he did to helpless animals, the award would have been loudly decried.  It told me that the culture of professional football, amid its high-tech trappings and pretensions to American values and respectability, only pays lip service to these ideals; for without respect and care for the creatures in our midst, we have not achieved respectability, and don't deserve to be called civilized.

I looked again into the eyes of the poor dog above, and  I could tell myself nothing more.  I could have posted more gruesome pictures...it would have been abusive...you can find them...not that you'd want to.

If you want to express your displeasure, sign a letter here:  Change.org.   I did!

Playoffs and bowl games are coming up, and I think it will be somewhat lonely to choose not to be a part of that.  One guy refusing to watch NFL, or be exposed to their sponsors, will not cause the collapse of professional football.  Yet I will make my quiet statement, and (as Ghandi wisely taught)  I will be the change I would like to see in the world.

Next week: my first Saturday at the Animal Shelter.