This is what we saw on Friday afternoon from Roger Goodell when he
talked about how he had gotten so much wrong in the last month and how he was
going to make things right in the National Football League:

We saw just another guy in sports trying to talk his way out of
trouble.
This doesn’t mean Goodell was lying when he talked about how wrong he
was with Ray Rice especially, how little he did to find out what really
happened in that elevator in Atlantic City, an original suspension for Rice
that was small enough to fit inside a shot glass. It does not mean Goodell
isn’t sincerely looking to make things right in his league on domestic
violence, and child abuse, and guns, and all the rest of it going forward.
Goodell clearly felt bad about everything that had brought him to this
moment. Everybody feels bad when they get caught. What became more clear,
crystal clear, the longer he talked on Friday afternoon was that he had gotten
caught being the weakest commissioner in professional sports, that he is
through being called the most powerful man in sports in this country.
Maybe Goodell was so busy suggesting he was some kind of victim of the
NFL’s policy about personal conduct — one he helped write — that he neglected
to mention the victims that brought him to that podium on Friday.
So the man who was once more than happy to pose on the cover of Time
magazine as “The Enforcer” now talks about initiatives and the women he has
hired and the committees he now needs to deal with domestic violence and all
the rest of it in the National Football League. He says that a conduct
committee will be in place by the Super Bowl, and acted as if we should give
him the game ball for that.
“Our standards . . . must be clear, consistent and current,” Goodell
said at one point, and you wondered why in the hell they already weren’t in the
most powerful and profitable league in this country, why it took some grainy
elevator video to slap Goodell and his owners upside their own thick heads.
You watched Goodell on Friday, watched him be as contrite as all the
players he’s taken to the woodshed without impunity over his years as the NFL
commissioner, and wondered why Adam Silver, the new NBA commissioner, a rookie
commissioner, didn’t need to form committees when he kicked Donald Sterling, one
of his owners, right out of his sport.
When Major League Baseball’s Bud
Selig and Rob Manfred wanted to suspend a dozen guys last year, and drop a
richly deserved hammer on a drug cheat like Alex Rodriguez, they didn’t talk
about a conduct committee or wait around for law enforcement to throw the first
punch against Anthony Bosch, drug pusher to the stars. They went right after
Bosch with a lawsuit for interference and you know what happened in that
moment? They became real enforcers, not people simply posing that way.
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