Padecky: In a world of 2nd chances, using a slur is one-strike-and-you’re-out

Actions speak louder than words. So goes the message. Try telling that to Kyle Larson and Thom Brennaman. No matter what they do for the rest of their lives, they both permanently rewrote their history recently by saying one word that will stick to them like a bad smell.

How they recover speaks either to the power of redemption or the curse of the arrogantly entitled. Americans hand out second chances as if they were free popcorn at a county fair. And when it comes to athletics you even can spend three years in prison for rape (Mike Tyson) and still be a world champion.

In April, Larson, a NASCAR star, said the N-word while racing in an online video game. He was immediately fired by team owner Chip Ganassi. Last week Brennaman, broadcaster for the Cincinnati Reds, used the f-word homophobic slur on an open mike. He was removed from the broadcast.

“In the short term,” said Ed Beebout, chair of the communications department at Sonoma State, “there is only one recourse. You lose your job.”

How they handled their exits, however, have been quite different.

Larsen said he was “ignorant” and “immature.” He said he missed a lot of childhood experiences living in a bubble that comes from being totally obsessed with racing. While that doesn’t excuse his language, it offers a plausible backdrop to that language, especially since NASCAR is almost lily-white. Since April, Larson has hired a personal diversity coach, worked in an Urban Youth Racing School in Philadelphia and a youth empowerment program in Minneapolis.

“I never realized how privileged I was,” Larson told the Associated Press. Larson is still without a NASCAR team.

Larson also is 27. That number will come into play in a moment.

Brennaman, on the other hand, said this when he was taken off the broadcast: “If I have hurt anyone out there ...” Brennaman then could have said “I have a rhododendron growing out of my nose” and I wouldn’t have heard it.

“He was either being insincere or somehow he was not really aware of how that word could offend someone,” Beebout said.

Beebout leans to the first option, as do I. Brennaman is 56. One doesn’t live all those years in America without being aware of the LBGTQ community and the persecution they have experienced. If Brennaman still lives in a bubble at 56, someone better tell him about these new cars that you don’t have to hand-crank the windows to go up and down. See, just press this little button and lookie, the window retracts.

The biggest glimpse into his soul was Brennaman saying, “IF I have offended anyone out there ...”

What that meant: “If I haven’t offended you, great, because it didn’t offend me.” He followed that with another mallet thump to the forehead: “That is not who I am.”

Yes, this is EXACTLY who Brennaman is. He is a broadcaster. He is paid to use words. He knows the value of them. He knows the impact they can create.

Sometimes actions do not speak louder than words. Words matter. Like the ones in the Constitution. Like the ones from a President: “Ask not what the country can do for you, ask what you can do for the country.” Like even the ones from a Hall of Fame catcher: “No one goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”

Words move us, inflame us, calm us, give us headaches. Words represent a time, a place, a culture. They change. They morph. They tell where we’ve been and where we are.

“People our age said things as children we would never say now,” said Beebout, 61, lumping me into his age bracket, which this 73-year-old took as a compliment. “Conversely, things are said now that would have never been said then.”

The two words LarsOn and Brennaman used, however, weren’t acceptable then and aren’t acceptable. They stand the test of time, and not for a moment does Beebout buy the idea that one is being too politically correct to find them disgusting.

“It’s hurtful language, it’s that simple,” said Beebout, who had a radio broadcast for 25 years.

“Those two words can not be misinterpreted,” Beebout added. “Those two words are unacceptable in any context.”

That they were recorded and that the users knew they were talking live (“First thing you’re taught in broadcasting school is always assume the mike is on,” Beebout said), raises more questions than answers. Obscenities do not grow and flourish in a vacuum.

Second chances can be the escape hatch, freeing the captured, to do better, to learn, to mea culpa until the paychecks resume. Yes, those last two words are cryptic. Money in professional sports pushes everything, to playing in a pandemic to hawking burritos an athlete would never eat.

Initially, Beebout keeps his distance on second chances ― not that he doesn’t believe in them, but he remains unconvinced in their sincerity.

“Second chances are earned,” he said. Second chances require work. Second chances may never be the whitewash. Sometimes a do-over never cleans up everything.

The smudge on their reputation still remains for Al Campanis, Pete Rose, Steve Howe, Jimmy The Greek, Shoeless Joe Jackson. In Tyson’s case, you’ll have more than one smudge.

You may not know all their histories, but it won’t take long. Just read the first paragraph of their life story. You may have to consume a second paragraph to capture the full flavor.

Larson and Brennaman won’t be the last people in the sports world to give themselves a hot foot. The industry itself creates a certain breeziness. Words said in the dugout or on the sideline or on the court or in the locker room often are visceral and reactionary. That so many of them are uttered by men is not the best compliment I can give my gender. Boys will be boys only goes so far. Especially if you’re calling a 56-year-old man a boy.

To comment write to bobpadecky@gmail.com.