Flak Magazine: Kick Out the Sports! 07.21.03

That seems to be the reaction of most of the sporting world to hearing that Los Angeles Lakers star Kobe Bryant has been charged with felony sexual assault. Even before the case's first hearing, Bryant has copped to, at the least, cheating on his wife with a 19-year-old woman, who worked at the Edwards, Colo., lodge where he stayed before undergoing knee surgery at a nearby hospital. I'm an adulterer, says Bryant, not a criminal. His wife, Vanessa, in the requisite prepared statement, says she believes him.

Bryant's previously squeaky-clean image is the source of much of the disbelief. That image didn't come from visiting sick children or hosting large charity events. It came in great part from the company he keeps. Just about any pro sports league deals with a certain number of arrests, but the NBA has been particularly active at filling lockups over the last month. The arrestees are accused of trespassing (Drew Gooden), domestic abuse (Jerry Stackhouse), battery (Darrell Armstrong) and trying to carry marijuana wrapped in tinfoil through an airport metal detector (Damon Stoudamire). Chris Webber pleaded guilty earlier this month to lying to a grand jury in a case involving a now-deceased Michigan booster. A Canadian assault case involving former Milwaukee Bucks teammates Gary Payton, Sam Cassell and Jason Caffey made its way to court that same week.

But Bryant was different, so it was thought, no thanks to a bit of racism and classism. Bryant didn't grow up with the thug life that so many black NBA players and their requisite marketers allegedly embrace. He grew up not with a single mother in the projects, but in relative comfort with both parents, mostly in Italy, where his father, Joe "Jelly Bean" Bryant, played at the end of his pro basketball career. Kobe speaks fluent Italian. He writes poetry. Conflicts with teammates over ball-hogging notwithstanding, Bryant was considered so dull and un-hip-hop that sportswriters openly speculated about whether his arrest would help, not hinder, his marketability because it would give him some so-called street cred. (Actually, Bryant tried to get street cred three years ago by producing a rap album. It didn't work — the album was lousy. He put out a version in Italian, but that didn't help him in Rome any more than it did in Los Angeles.)

Of course, 12 years ago, we all thought Mike Tyson was different, too. It's hard to believe now, but when Tyson was charged with raping a Miss Black America contestant in an Indianapolis hotel room, many people believed his menace didn't extend beyond the ring. Much was written at the time about the influence of the late trainer Cus D'Amato, who transformed the Brooklyn street thug into an upstanding young man who beat the snot out of people for a living, and about how Tyson was respectful of his elders, boxing history and his pet pigeons. Even though Tyson had suffered his upset loss to James "Buster" Douglas and seemed like he was starting to spin out of control, he wasn't the full-on psycho he appears to be today, saying, as he did in May, how he would rape victim Desiree Washington now if he had the chance.

Tyson is notable because his was the last sports celebrity sex crime trial to grab the nation's attention. You can bet Bryant's lawyers will study that case as a lesson in how not to conduct a trial. Tyson's lawyers based their case on how Tyson was such an animal that Washington should have known what he was capable of when she went to his room. Telling the jury over and over that your client is perfectly capable of the crime in question is an interesting strategy, to say the least. Given Bryant's public admission of adultery, his lawyers appear to be setting him up as a generally good guy who, like a lot of pro athletes, can't keep it in his pants when a young lady shows interest in having sex with him.

Tyson's lawyers' other losing strategy was trying to cast doubt on Washington's reputation, casting her as a gold-digger who submitted willingly to Tyson. That didn't work because Washington was 18, a Sunday school teacher and by most accounts a fine, upstanding young woman who, in the case of Tyson, appeared to be starstruck in the presence of a celebrity. (Prosecutors may use the starstruck argument about Bryant's alleged victim to explain any willingness she had to go up to his room.)

But Bryant's lawyers, if they choose to, may be able to make the "gold-digger defense" work. Unlike Bryant's trial, Tyson's came on the heels of the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill hearings. The case marked a general change in attitude toward alleged victims of sexual harassment and assault. There was a popular sentiment that a woman, whatever her intentions, needed to be taken seriously when she said she was the victim of a sexual crime.

That may not hold today. Not that there's less recognition of the severity and tragedy of rape, but because there's greater awareness of the game of sexual trapping played throughout pro sports cities. Players in all leagues are advised regularly about how there are women who don't look like groupies, but are, who are after nothing more than players' money. Admittedly, this game hasn't included accusations of rape up to this point, but even casual sports fans know predatory groupies are a part of athletes' lives. (The whole Karla Knafel-Michael Jordan legal dust-up made that plainly clear. Knafel, according to court documents, had babies fathered by athletes in various sports.) And there have been numerous cases recently where women have accused athletes of criminal conduct. But in many (though not all) cases the athletes were found innocent or charges were dropped, for whatever reason.

I won't speculate on Bryant's guilt or innocence, nor on the intentions of his alleged victim. But whichever way it goes, this high-profile case may show we shouldn't be surprised when seemingly nice people do not-so-nice things.

E-mail Bob Cook at bobc@flakmag.com.