When the Yankees announced the return of Aroldis Chapman to New York on a record five-year, $86 million deal, my espnW colleague Kavitha Davidson remarked on Twitter that she and I were essentially playing a game of hot potato with the troubled closer.
As fans of the two teams Chapman has played for since his suspension for domestic violence -- the Cubs and the Yankees -- we've both certainly been quite vocal about his lack of contrition and the uncomfortable position we've been put in as fans.
When Davidson's beloved Bronx Bombers acquired Chapman at a bargain basement trade price in December of last year, she wrote about how the move reeked of "gross opportunism," and I did my "Sports Reporters" Parting Shot on the inappropriate standing ovation Yankees fans gave him in his first game back from suspension.
When he was dealt to the Cubs in July, she wrote how thankful she was to be able to enjoy the ninth inning again, while I bemoaned the addition of Chapman to an impossibly lovable Cubs team that looked primed to win it all. Of course, Chicago did go on to win the World Series, prompting another piece in which I celebrated the long-awaited win and thanked the baseball gods for giving me a final out that didn't feature Chapman on the mound playing hero.
Which leads us to this week, and Davidson's column on how Chapman's return to New York should be an opportunity to actually make some progress in the conversation about domestic violence.
There are plenty of fans interested in exploring the reconciliation of Chapman's talent on the field with his transgressions off of it, but many others push back against any criticism of him.
Folks who say they separate their morality from their fandom would likely add that Davidson and I are wasting our time. Those who think Chapman's off-the-field issues should be of no concern to fans might even believe that we're picking on him. And, oddly, many who say they don't care about Chapman's violent acts care enough to threaten and harass reporters like me who choose to write about him.
I won't give the spotlight to specific trolls by posting their tweets here, but these are exact quotes from my timeline: "Stay away from Wrigley you fugly whale. Nobody wants you anywhere near Wrigley when Chapman closes out the first WS title," "Go away you fat f----ing pig. Nobody in the #Cubs franchise cares about your take on them," and, who can forget, "You should be hit in the head with a Chapman heater and killed."
Said Davidson on my "That's What She Said" podcast: "The effort that people take to combat those of us that are trying to speak out about those issues is really indicative. ... They're kind of telling on themselves in that sense. They say we shouldn't really talk about this, we shouldn't really care about this, sports is escapism, but [they're] also going to put as much effort into arguing the other side as we put into arguing this side."
So what's behind the desire to shout down those of us seeking to improve the experience for fans who care about the morality of the athletes they cheer for? Why do some men (and it's only been men in my experience) have such an angry, visceral response to requests for athlete accountability, contrition and proof of a change in behavior? Is it merely that some fans will protect the players on the teams they love, no matter the circumstance? Or is it rooted in misogyny, a rejection accusers' claims combined with a deep-seated anger that a female journalist would have the audacity to criticize a male athlete?
It certainly feels as if the pushback isn't just about devotion to team. The nastiest messages I get on social media are always in response to tweets or stories about male-female dynamics. Domestic violence, sexual assault, feminism, harassment, misogyny, gender equality -- if the topic relates to gender issues in any way, I can be certain that my timeline will be filled with insults and threats. And those who send them can be certain that I won't stop asking questions and demanding better answers -- and so will Davidson.
As she noted on the podcast, "This is a very new space for all of us. Whether we're media or fans or teams or domestic violence agencies ... having these conversations is the only real way we'll get to any real solutions."
