Michael Vick, who abruptly fell from the height of stardom to the depth of perceived villainy, not to mention temporary legal and financial ruin, is searching for redemption. Just over two years removed from pleading guilty to felony charges for his involvement in the massive dog fighting ring known as Bad Newz Kennels, Vick is back in the NFL. He has served his allotted prison sentence of 23 months, he has apologized profusely before the public eye and, now that his suspension from the league has been lifted, he has made his debut as a member of the Philadelphia Eagles. Many of the storylines revolving around Vick have to do with how he will fit in on a team with Donovan McNabb as quarterback, what role or roles he will play and how much he will contribute. Purely from a football perspective, these are fundamentally important concerns, but Vick’s situation has implications that transcend the boundaries of sport.
For all of the punishment he has endured and the penance he has offered, Vick’s past still looms behind him at all times. This is still a man who knowingly funded an organization that trained dogs to gruesomely exterminate other dogs and abused, tortured and executed dogs that did not perform this task satisfactorily. Knowing this, can we ever simply view him as another player? Is his otherworldly athletic ability blinding enough to make us forget his somewhat disturbing criminal past? Bidnam Lee and Jay Gold discuss these and other questions pertaining to Vick’s return to the NFL, his prison sentence and his situation as a whole.
Bidnam: Michael Vick’s official return to the NFL on Sept. 27 against the Kansas City Chiefs was a minor blip, if even that, on the final box score of the game: 0/2 for zero yards passing and one run for seven yards rushing. Yet, in many ways, I feel like his debut augmented an already present tension in the larger sports world regarding the entire Michael Vick saga: How should we really feel about it? Should we feel bad for feeling good for him, to witness a redemption story, but have it undermined because of just how far the story falls before its redemption? Do we focus on his past? Or how far he’s come from his past? There are certainly no unequivocal “right” answers here, but for me personally, I was happy to see Michael Vick make his NFL debut. Should I feel guilty about that?
Jay: We all want to witness redemption. It’s one of the most recurrent scripts in our sports culture and, when its promise is fulfilled, one of the most endearing. As a part of this culture and a former Vick fan, there’s a part of me that was and is excited about his return. However, I have to wonder, how far has he come from his past? We all want to believe that he is a changed man and I’m sure he is to an extent.
Still, I am not convinced that his public apology represents anything more than pragmatism on his part. Of course he apologized. The alternative was losing his chance at returning to the NFL along with whatever respectability he had left. It is possible that he actually feels guilty about his involvement in dog fighting, but it is also possible that he is merely trying to repair the image and livelihood he destroyed by being involved in dog fighting. Obviously, we have no way of knowing what is going on his mind. But I have a hard time simply accepting that he’s completely reformed, even if he’s not going to be getting back into the dog fighting business anytime soon.
Bidnam: It’s true. Whether or not he is truly repentant for his heinous actions is a question I’m sure lingers in everyone’s mind. What drives a man to support something as brutal and reprehensible as, not only dog fighting, but also dog torture and execution, without moral qualms? And then can that same man be made to finally have moral qualms with those things, to genuinely feel remorseful? As Jay pointed out, Vick loses everything if he doesn’t exhibit remorse, whether genuine or not, and gains everything if he does.
But at the same time, does anyone ever know if a person is actually sorry for his actions? It takes a certain kind of faith in a person to believe that he is remorseful, to be able to forgive him, to be able to offer him redemption, even partially. We do it everyday with the people around us and we hope other people do the same for us when we are repentant about something. I am in no way even remotely providing excuses for Vick’s actions or justifying them, but rather, asking if his place in society as a celebrity, a celebrated athlete, make the standards against which his actions are held different? Do we resort to a utilitarian type of retributive justice with people who are more visible in our society? Do we punish them disproportionately, legally and socially, with their actions to use them as visible examples in an attempt to maximize the benefit their punishment has on the rest of society?
Jay: It’s unclear whether we do, but, interestingly enough, the judge added significant time to the prosecutors’ initial request that the sentence last 12-18 months. However, the fact that Vick failed a drug test while he was free on a bail complicates the notion that his visibility was the primary factor in the extension of the sentence. In any case, he is free now and we have to decide whether we want to continue to scrutinize his inscrutable morality or simply watch him play football.
Bidnam: On the football field, Vick is renowned for his unbelievable speed, a Hermes in a league of mere men. Hermes, however, wasn’t just the Greek god of speed, but also the guide of lost souls to the Underworld, and as Michael Vick begins a new chapter in his turbulent life, we can only hope he can lead his own lost soul to a better place than it was before.
