It started in slow, then it started to grow. In the closing minutes of the Bulls’ victory two weeks ago over the Milwaukee Bucks–a triumphant 84-62 return home after a grueling road trip–the fans in the stands started to chant, “Scot-tie, Scot-tie.” The intent was obvious. Scottie Pippen, sitting on the bench–looking quite abashed as the chant persisted, fading out in one area of the United Center only to be taken up in another section across the way–had recently made a public demand to be traded, saying he would never play another game for the Bulls. This happened while the Bulls were out west, and while Pippen was rehabilitating himself from foot surgery, an operation that has kept him from playing all season and is expected to keep him out until later this month or next. Coming in the wake of his ominous it’s-been-good-to-know-ya remarks during the ring ceremony before the Bulls’ home opener, the demand seemed sincere. Both Michael Jordan and coach Phil Jackson had initially pooh-poohed it, only to come around to the severity of the situation. Pippen had been pounded in the media as a spoiled brat–a predictable response–but Jordan and Jackson held out hope that he could be prevailed upon to change his mind. He was, after all, still practicing with the team, and still sitting on the bench in street clothes during games. The chants, then, were an attempt to bring him back into the fold. They weren’t pleading or plaintive; if anything, they expressed admiration and–dare I say it?–love for a player. This, I thought, might be the thing to open those grinchy sports reporters’ hearts.
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That was a naive hope, of course. When sportswriters discussed the “Scot-tie” chants at all, more often than not the phenomenon was dismissed as a sign of fan weakness. Some writers even asked what was wrong with Chicago’s sports fans, to be so accepting of Pippen and Dennis Rodman and Bob Probert. The poles of acceptance and intolerance are farther apart than ever in the sports world. Jackson jokingly said after the game that the team had put together a pool about whether Pippen would be cheered or booed by the fans, and that he personally had thought the response would be negative. On the one hand, with the “Scot-tie” chants only the most recent reminder, fans have learned to show fondness and–as I’ve written before–an almost Christian forgiveness for players. Some writers may look cynically at this as a manifestation of how badly fans want to win–that they’ll accept a cretin on any terms if only he will help their team. But then, how to explain the standing ovation the last-place Cubs received after their last game of the season at Wrigley Field? On the other hand, however, there is a real hatred simmering among sports fans–hatred of athletes they consider overpaid; self-hatred for being fans of such athletes–as any member of the Bears who has had to walk the gauntlet into the locker room at Soldier Field after a loss this season can well attest. Many sportswriters, it seems to me, nurse the same sort of envious contempt for athletes, and so they fan the flames of outrage at every opportunity.
Or to put it in terms sportswriters can understand, an athlete isn’t obliged to be anything but an athlete. It’s hard enough being an athlete at any level without being a good person as well. It’s true, the person who manages both will always have an advantage–an advantage with his coaches, with his fellow players, with the fans, and, most pertinent in today’s megabuck age, with ad reps–but there is no obligation. Some writers insist that because today’s athletes get paid an inordinate amount of money they must serve the common good–sort of like a utility–but that argument is specious and tautological. Athletes get paid a lot of money–when they do–because they’re good athletes, and because large numbers of people pay to see them, and because TV uses that attraction to sell products to even larger numbers of people. Nobody gets paid a lot of money simply for being a good person.
