I estimate that the New York Times has published 254 articles over the years mentioning “black quarterback” or “black quarterbacks” (although few would be off-topic references to, say, “Joe Black, quarterback”).
In contrast, the New York Times has only mentioned the lack of white starting cornerbacks in the NFL twice in recent decades. From 1998:
Although many people felt President Clinton’s Town Hall meeting last Tuesday in Houston on race in sports was largely superficial and unfocused (with the occasional insightful outburst), many commentators congratulated Clinton and ESPN for ”creating dialogue,” and having the courage to address ”such critical issues.” … The discussion was often mired in issues such as white cornerbacks …
But here’s a substantive New York Times article from 2011 that is the last time the NYT mentioned the complete lack of white cornerbacks in NFL starting jobs. It makes some good points but it also gets tangled up badly because of the various landmines it gingerly tries to step around:
At Some N.F.L. Positions, Stereotypes Create Prototypes
Jason Sehorn played cornerback for the Giants and the St. Louis Rams in a career that lasted until 2003. Today, there are no white cornerbacks in the N.F.L.
By William C. Rhoden
Dec. 11, 2011During a screening of a movie about the Tuskegee Airmen on Saturday, it finally occurred to me why the absence of white cornerbacks in the N.F.L.—or the presence of so many black ones—presents a compelling snapshot of the American condition.
In other words, I finally came up with an acceptable premise—Tuskegee Airmen!—for talking about this off-Narrative set of facts.
Often, in reaction to an article about the lack of black quarterbacks or the lack of black coaches and executives, critics point out indignantly that there are no white cornerbacks, either. The disappearance of the white cornerback has more to do with shrunken aspirations, a lack of confidence and a reluctance to compete.
You know, in most contexts, newspaper discussions of today’s youth’s “shrunken aspirations, a lack of confidence and a reluctance to compete” are usually treated as bad things that Society must do something about. But in this case, those bad things are afflicting white youths, so never mind.
Cornerback at the N.F.L. level is the most challenging position in sports.
More so than NFL quarterback? Really?
What Rhoden presumably means is “Cornerback at the N.F.L. level is the most physically challenging position in sports.” But that sounds, uh, stereotypical when talking about an all-black position.
It demands extraordinary speed and quickness. Like fighter pilots, cornerbacks must possess an unusual blend of physical strength and emotional toughness, the ability to think and act quickly under pressure.
I’d suggest the ability to “react quickly under pressure” would be more accurate. Cornerbacks don’t get a lot of time to think.
The film, “Red Tails,” produced by George Lucas, is the gripping story of the Tuskegee Airmen, African-American pilots who fought in World War II. They were the first African-American aviators in the United States armed forces. The black fighter pilots were underestimated, marginalized, told they lacked the courage, the intelligence and the skill to be top-flight fighter pilots.
The movie depicts breathtaking dogfights over Italy and Germany where the Red Tails (so named because the Tuskegee pilots painted their planes’ tails bright red) performed heroic feats and earned commendations.
Okay…
The movie is set in 1944. At the time, the armed forces were segregated. African-Americans were also excluded from major league sports in the United States. The modern N.F.L., for example, was not desegregated until 1946.
By the time Bernie Parrish, a white kid from Florida, and Walter Beach, an African-American from Michigan, joined the Cleveland Browns as cornerbacks in 1959 and 1960, the majority of cornerbacks were white. There were unwritten rules and practices designed to keep it that way.
“We were still in that era of the quotas,” said Parrish, referring to the unwritten practice of allowing a select number of African-Americans on a team. “In 1959, I believe the quota of black players was 7; then it went to 13.”
There was also the practice of stacking, making sure African-American players competed for the same positions.
“There would be six or eight guys competing for my spot and nobody competing for his,” Beach said, referring to Parrish, who has become one of his closest friends. “That’s where the stacking concept comes from. They would stack black cats behind each other; that was a reality. If you came to the Cleveland Browns and you wanted to play cornerback, there were going to be five brothers over there behind me.”
All 167 cornerbacks listed on active N.F.L. rosters last Monday were African-American, although Julian Edelman, a receiver who is white, has played a few snaps at cornerback for the injury-plagued New England Patriots. The evolution to today’s rosters began with the emergence of the American Football League in 1960. While the N.F.L. maintained quotas and engaged in steering and stacking, the rival A.F.L. was snatching up talented players wherever it could find them, especially at historically black colleges.
“You had more black guys coming into the league who were receivers who could fly, and they had to have defensive backs who could fly with them,” Beach said.
The AFL was a rare successful start-up league that caught on and negotiated a merger beginning in 1970 in which all AFL teams joined the NFL (to cut down on player salaries by ending competition between the leagues). In contrast, the American Basketball Association also emphasized black talent, but only four ABA teams were permitted to join the NBA in 1977, with the rest of the franchises folding. Few start-up leagues have succeeded in any big sport since then.
At some point, white players stopped believing they could fly.
And why was that? Did it turn out that blacks, say, tended to be faster, better jumpers, better at running backwards, and so forth? And why were they better? Was it their genes?
Uh-oh, let’s not go too deeply into this line of thought.
No more protection from open competition; everyone had to prove himself on a level playing field. Like the success of black fighter pilots, the presence of 64 African-American starting cornerbacks in the N.F.L. is an American triumph of meritocracy over protectionism.
The long-term negative effect of discriminatory practices of the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s is reflected in the almost complete abandonment of cornerback by young white athletes aspiring to play the position at the most competitive high schools.
Huh? I don’t follow this logic at all. You were saying that white cornerbacks were protected in the past by quotas, which would mean that whites were represented, so that young whites grew up enjoying crucial role models at cornerback, which should have meant more white cornerbacks today by the logic of DEI. We are constantly told that black women astrophysicists (or whatever) need diversity quotas to ensure more black women astrophysicist role models, so why would more white cornerbacks in the past lead to fewer white cornerbacks in the present?
Dallas Jackson, who specializes in high school recruiting for Rivals.com, has seen the consequences.
“I’ve been at Rivals.com for seven years; there has not been a white cornerback who has stood out,” Jackson said[.] “I don’t think we have invited one to our U.S. Army All-American game.”
He added: “White athletes aren’t going out for the position or they are getting pushed out at an early age or getting steered clear of it in peewee ball. There are white cornerbacks out there; they just haven’t been recruited. They play the position and they might end up in Division II schools or Division III. But when we talk about the N.F.L. level—I can’t remember a white cornerback in a long time. The white corner is a vanishing act right now.”
That sounds like stereotyping, bigotry, and disparate-impact discrimination.
Ozzie Newsome, the Baltimore Ravens’ general manager, said the lack of white cornerbacks reflected a failure to see possibilities.
“I was a pretty good quarterback growing up, but when it came to organized football, I knew I should become a wide receiver, because from everything that I was reading, all the blacks were getting their positions changed,” Newsome, a standout N.F.L. tight end from 1978 to 1990, said.
Once he became a receiver, the road to the N.F.L. became clearer. “Now you’ve got some heroes that you can look at; there is someone you can emulate who is black,” he said.
Young white athletes who might aspire to be N.F.L. corners can’t see themselves in that role.
“They’re going through the same thing that I went through when I wanted to play quarterback,” Newsome said. “ ‘Yeah, you can play cornerback, but by the time you get to college, they’re going to move you to safety.’
“I think the stereotype can affect your mentality. If you grow up not seeing something and hearing something your whole life, that starts to impact you: ‘I can’t do this, I’m not good enough to do that.’ And that becomes a part of your life.” …
He then talks about the lack of black punters and placekickers in the NFL. This is more purely cultural because nobody doubts that blacks have the leg strength to be competitive. But they don’t bother to try.
And then Rhoden sums up with a rare example in the New York Times of suggesting people try harder to overcome stereotypes:
The lack of white corners and black kickers is less about sports and more about having dreams, seeing possibility and having the courage to explore one’s discomfort zone. …
White corners, black kickers. Both groups can learn lessons from the Tuskegee Airmen, the legendary Red Tails, who kicked and scratched in pursuit of a dream.
In the end, they showed the world they could indeed fly.
It will be interesting to see whether the U. of Iowa builds upon its two outstanding recent white cornerbacks—Riley Moss, who went in the 3rd round of last year’s NFL draft and Cooper DeJean, who might go in the first round of this year’s draft—to become a haven for white cornerback talent, the way Gonzaga College in Spokane became a destination for white basketball talent.
