Tor Constantino criticizes the nonsensical message to young NFL fans when a player admits to shoplifting, faces no consequences and is paid to tell kids not to steal.
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Join @GoodMenProject and the #GMPSports Team for a #GMPChat TwitterChat on the topic of Athletes and Privilege, on Wednesday, October 29, 2014 at 9 PM (EST).
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It’s been roughly two weeks since Cowboys running back, Joseph Randle was arrested on misdemeanor Class B theft charges, related to his admitted shoplifting of cologne and underwear at a shopping mall in Frisco, Texas.
As a consequence of his failed theft, Randle faces virtually no consequences.
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The total retail value of the goods he tried to steal was a whopping $123.50.
Now I know that might not seem like a big deal when you consider the constellation of current players who have been charged with domestic abuse, assault and battery, substance abuse, weapons violations, dog fighting…etc.
However, as a consequence of his failed theft, Randle faces virtually no consequences.
Celebrity does indeed have its privileges.
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Randle wasn’t suspended from playing in the two games since the arrest, running for a combined 41 yards on five carries and one reception against the Giants and Washington respectively. Those aren’t great numbers and it’s arguable that Randle would not have been missed—but he wasn’t suspended.
It makes no sense.
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While the Cowboys fined him $29,117—the equivalent of his salary earned for a single game based on his annual earnings of $495,000—it didn’t cost Randle a dime.
What they’ve done is analogous to General Motors asking a convicted car thief to be featured in a Buick commercial.
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His monetary penalty was defrayed because an underwear company seeking to exploit the high-profile publicity surrounding Randle’s arrest reached out to his agent and agreed to pay the running back more than the fine to serve as an underwear spokesman.
But let’s be clear.
If Randle was not a rich, famous football player—there would be no sponsorship, spokesperson role or cash for him. He would be arrested or somewhere in the Denton County corrections system. Instead he’s being handsomely subsidized for committing a crime.
As a side note, I’ve been a public relations professional for more than 15 years and I don’t understand this publicity stunt by the underwear company.
What they’ve done is analogous to General Motors asking a convicted car thief to be featured in a Buick commercial—the only difference here is scale.
It makes no sense.
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The courts did order Randle to engage in community service for his crime by telling kids not to steal and giving them free underwear on behalf of the aforementioned manufacturer—but once again, that’s not a consequence.
Dozens of NFL players volunteer every week in their communities reading to students, reminding kids to stay active and stay in school…etc. That’s not punishment, that’s brand-building PR and community outreach.
It makes no sense.
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None of this situation makes sense—especially the mind-scratching motivation that would drive a celebrity earning a half-million dollars a year to risk it all for less than $130 of stolen goods.
The swirling confusion is confounded by patronizing rhetoric from all parties involved regarding the need for a second chance and a suspect facade of redemption.
While I’m all for the ideal of second chances and redemption—I don’t think the reality of appropriate consequences for bad behavior can be sacrificed on that twin altar.
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As it stands, the only take away from this entire situation is as follows:
If you’re a celebrity and you steal—you’ll face virtually no consequences for your conduct and you can even be rewarded for it.
That’s a pretty troubling message and it will ironically be reinforced to every child that Randle tells NOT to steal.
It makes no sense.
This story is so outrageous, it makes me crazy. And your piece illustrates the absurdity and toxicity of it perfectly.