Feasting on The Downfall of The Famous: The Richard Sherman Story

We are a use-it-and-dispose-of-it style culture here in the USA.

This is about Richard Sherman.

We are a use-it-and-dispose-of-it style culture here in the USA. Everything from our fast food to our streaming internet clips and social media posts are made to be consumed and then forgotten as we move on to the next content like a ravenous pack of data-driven T-Rexes.

Nowhere is this more glaringly obvious than in our professional entertainments. Most professions which reach the pinnacle of what we are taught is The American Dream have some element of exposure to the public. With that exposure comes the fickle focus of the people who focus on your show, your product, your service or your sport.

Sports are a profession unlike any other in that they combine a ritualistic, public grading of one’s performance that is not only recorded for posterity but, in the current milieu, rigorously dissected by legions of journalists, streamers and a horde of commenters. Professional athlete’s skill, talent and pain are weighed and measured with the rewards doled out in trophies, riches, accolades and most of all: Attention.

Andy Warhol’s famous quote, "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes," has now come to full fruition in our era. It tends to dumb down a little how we perceive fame. After all, ask anyone whose retweeted-by-Grant-Cohn-GIF received over 20K views what it feels like and they (I) will tell you that it felt like a tasty Warholian slice of fame.

However, the fact remains that the vast majority of us will never have the experience of being famous and all the feelings that come along for such a wild ride. Perhaps that sense of tantalizing envy we feel is part of what fuels our enjoyment when a famous person meets their public downfall.

While such falls from grace can be traced back to the Garden of Eden and probably even back to when Grok-from-the-next-tribe-over was no longer the greatest hunter, they seem to have been accelerated in recent times. Everyone from police to presidents, from film-producers to rappers, figure-skaters to home improvement mavens has been drawn and quartered in the vivid public square that is The Internet.

It is difficult to parse which forces have led to this ramping up of downfalls. Among them are: Ubiquity of Cameras, The Me-Too Movement, Social Media and The Mass Media Content Maelstrom. Nonetheless, we humans, who have long taken joy out of the pain of others, now have a Hyper Potent Set of Tools with which to join in the melee from the comfort of our living rooms.

To paraphrase Mel Brooks: “Tragedy is I fall in a hole. Comedy is I see you fall in a hole.” By this definition one might call our current epoch A Tragicomedy of Epic Proportions.

This proclivity to be fascinated by A Downfall came home to roost in 49ers land this week when a former member of the team, cornerback Richard Sherman, experienced a dramatic and complex fall from grace. His actions have crafted for the public a veritable cornucopia of Downfall content.

For example, this essay itself is the very thing it itself is discussing.

Sherman holds a unique place in the hearts of 49ers fans, having participated in two Super Bowl losses. This is amplified by the fact that he did so from both on the 49ers itself and on its most hated rival, the Seahawks. Not only that, it could be argued that Sherman himself was responsible for both losses. Blaming him solely for 2019 is a bit of a stretch admittedly, but this is about how he is perceived vs. what is “real” and certainly many fans believe it to be Uncle Sherm’s fault.

Sherman is also someone who has had a more-visible-than-most career for someone who plays a non-quarterback position by virtue of his involvement in The NFL Players Association. Furthermore, he presented as the highest form of NFL player, one who excelled in the athletic aspects of the game while also maintaining an elevated level of moral and intellectual excellence throughout his career. He has been as famous for negotiating his own contracts as he was for being a shut-down corner.

All that set him up to be in a challenging position mentally as he rounded this year into what was either the final chapter of or perhaps even the end of his NFL career. All signs thus far in 2021 were pointing at a market for his position that would likely land him on a second-tier team rather than a legit contender. In spite of being a wily vet who can add great wisdom to any locker room, he had become so slow as to be a delimiting factor for defensive schemes. Discussions of his future were equal parts where-will-he-play and when-will-he-get-into-broadcasting.

Fast forward to this week and his up-til-now calm personal life exploded into a frenzy of issues based on what, at least so far, appears to be a night that combined ill-advised levels of alcohol and some emotional challenges he was facing with his family. We do not know, nor will I speculate on, the content of those challenges as they are the business of himself, his family and law-enforcement alone.

However, it is fair for us to examine the forces that may have led him to this experience that, in an instant, altered both his future as well as people’s past perceptions of his character. As The Internet Exploded with the news (7,000 tweets in the first hour alone), you could literally see the Downfall Machinery grind itself up and sink its huge teeth into this juicy content.

At this point our need to consume content is so far past addiction that it has become more of a quick paced evolution of our culture as a species that we cannot help but leap into this fray at whatever level we connect to the spectacle. All levels of pundits postulated. Reporters filed reports. Journalists Journaled. Streamers Streamed and the eyes of The Billions drank down the resplendent sorrow like a wino who kicks a paper bag and hears a clink and a slosh.

In all of this, as we were enthralled by this meta-tainment, so little of what was said showed any true compassion. It was as if the world had yanked Sherman out of the protective armor of his NFL Uniform (and identity) to hold him up, exposed for our viewing, reading and of course, commenting.

Yes, many people said it was sad. Many were compassionate in their comments or the angles of their story. The tsk-tsks abounded and the platitudes flew. “CTE” was suddenly trending (again (til the season starts (again))) and discussing players' mental health was de-rigueur.

However, just like with a crash on the side of a freeway, we are compelled to slow down and we HAVE to look at the damage (there by the grace of god go I). Under no circumstances could we, would we, ever, leave the human being named Richard Sherman, be.

It’s a Faustian trade made by all athletes, we offer them glory, money, attention and in many cases a weird form of Love. In return we ask for them to dance their best to the tune of their sport until the time has come at last for us to feast on their soul in The Downfall.

So today, as you click and scroll, your poor tired eye muscles straining for the next-interesting content, spare some thought for not just Richard Sherman the person, but for ALL the people you have made this sort of contract with. Remember, they do not owe us their dignity and no amount of fame or money will ever prevent someone who is going through it, from, well, going through it.

We have all been there in our own time and the last thing we needed was having our life blown up, and recorded, and discussed, and dissected and critiqued in HD.