The Last Word

Athletes on college campuses still can be forgiven if they aren’t sure whether their voices are big or loud enough to truly be heard. Even in times like these, the likes of which very few living people have ever experienced, they still have reason to believe no one will pay attention to anything that doesn’t involve the game they’re playing.

But they can be sure about this much: the path has already been cleared for them, and the platform has already been built.

It’s still rare that student-athletes walk that path and ascend that platform. August began with the athletes in the Pac-12 Conference demanding fair treatment by their schools and the NCAA in areas ranging from COVID-19 protocols to racial justice, with the threat of a boycott.

Their actions stood out because the notion of being seen (and cheered for) on the field but not heard off of it, has become so internalized that the athletes often silence themselves.

Not surprisingly, the times that the voices have come through loud and clear tend to stand out, and stand the test of time. A certain statue in the middle of San Jose State University’s campus is proof of that.

The statue is not of an educator, politician or big-money donor, but of Tommie Smith and John Carlos – who raised their fists on the medal stand at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City in a protest against racism and for human rights.

The roots of their protest grew from that campus, where they were world-class sprinters on a collision course with worldwide fame … but also students who faced the same mistreatment in classes, on campus and around the city as they knew fellow Black people did.

They knew, however, that the stage of sports could be used to shine a spotlight on it all, not just on themselves and their athletic exploits.

Smith and Carlos didn’t originate athlete activism, but their DNA can be found in all the protests since – in Colin Kaepernick and his fellow kneeling players, in the Black Lives Matter movements in every sport, and in this summer’s principled stand on Pac-12 campuses.

The seeds young activists planted long ago aren’t always that obvious now. Greater representation in coaching and athletic department and campus leadership was a pillar of Smith’s and Carlos’ stance. Today, a state flagship university in the south, a member of a power conference, has African Americans holding the positions of president, athletic director and head football coach. (Hint: it’s this one.)

That same institution stripped the name of a former president from the football stadium five years ago, because his history of racism could no longer be tolerated. The movement to change it was largely started by students.

It’s not uncharted territory. The stage is already set. All the young college athletes of this era have to do is step onto it and raise their voices. Or, their fists.

Someday, the statue on the mall, or in front of Maryland Stadium, could be of you.

David Steele (Maryland ’85) has been a professional sports journalist for more than 30 years, including eight years at the Sporting News. Most recently his work has appeared at ESPN’s The Undefeated, The Grio and the Washington, D.C. City Paper. A graduate of the University of Maryland at College Park, during his career he also has written for AOL, the Baltimore Sun, the San Francisco Chronicle, Newsday and the National Sports Daily. In 2007 he co-authored Silent Gesture: The Autobiography of Tommie Smith, which was nominated for an NAACP Image Award.