the box. Some shitty quarterbacks with the arm strength of Donald Trump Jr. were signed while Kaepernick was left at home. Richard Sherman even read off the names in an interview. There has clearly been collusion to keep him off a team. Owners are scared of the relationships Colin is building and the issues he’s raising. They are scared because his political views—that Black people shouldn’t be killed in the streets by police and should be empowered—are threatening to white society. They don’t want us to talk about this, even if it’s happening in communities where we grew up and members of our families still live. I get it, as a business owner, but at some point this conversation has to be about humanity and our shared future, not just the bottom line.

When I first met Colin, I did not like him. Why? Because he was the damn quarterback on the 49ers. I never like any QB. But for a quarterback, he seemed cool. We always just said, “What’s up.” But when he took that knee, I called him, and we talked for the longest time about solidarity, how to move forward, and how I could support him. This past off-season I got really close to him, talking to him more, because he was going through so much. I want him and everyone to know that I stand with him. He’s my friend.

If I had to make a list of twenty players who might’ve taken a knee in the summer of 2016, he wouldn’t have been on the list because he was a QB. They have the most to lose. I’m glad it was Colin, because there is no position in sports more high-profile than quarterback, and he was able to handle the reaction. It wasn’t just the death threats. He fielded the media, speaking truth every week for four months, knowing that this stand could end his career. And in the middle of it all he balled out. Players know he can play. Sixteen touchdowns and four picks on a terrible 49ers team. To be able to step into that spotlight and handle the pressure was amazing. To be able to ball out at the same time was legendary. To whiteball him after the fact only proves, as Colin has said, that he was right to speak out.

The stupidest comments about Colin—the part that sets my teeth on edge—were people in the media saying he can’t be an athlete and an activist at the same time. It’s like saying you can’t be a father and a husband at the same time; you can’t be a brother and an uncle at the same time. It’s also insulting because now many of us consider ourselves athletes and activists. That’s the reality of 2018, and the media needs to catch up to that reality. As for Colin, his ability to use his platform, play damn well, and still be able to help the people shows nothing but leadership and nothing but greatness. It’s what anyone should demand of a leader. You don’t want a guy who just wants to be paid. You want someone with the soul of an organizer, who believes in the connections we can build between people. Don’t think players don’t support him. I know the media has planted the idea that there is a racial divide in locker rooms around Kaepernick, but I have love for players like Steven Hauschka, Chris Long, and Aaron Rodgers, who have stood up for him. We also know that his 49ers teammates voted to give Colin the team’s Courage award. That says it all to me. The NFL holds up as leaders players who have been accused of rape, violence against women, and even manslaughter. They’re right in front of us, playing quarterback and winning Super Bowl MVP awards. I’d much rather call a leader someone who helps his community.

From talking to Kaepernick, I can tell you there is no doubt he wants to play. He also has no regrets about his choices. He just wishes the NFL would support him so he can keep sharing the message and inspire people to be different. I was walking with him through the streets of New York City, and I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve been around a lot of people that we classify as “famous,” but I’ve never seen people just glow in front of an athlete. They were all over him in an entirely different way. It wasn’t because he was some quarterback superhero but because they knew he risked something and was paying a price for trying to make a change. People gave him a pound and thanked him, and he’d say, “Thank you” right back. It comes so naturally to him and it’s a beautiful thing to see. It says something very wrong about the sports world that there is no room for Colin Kaepernick because of what he believes in his heart.

It’s not just players who get this. Last year I started raising my fist after sacks, as a tribute to John Carlos and Tommie Smith, the 1968 Olympians who raised their own fists on the medal stand in protest. When the NFL put out their “100 Best Players” list, I was on it, and in the video package, they showed me raising that fist four different times. They could’ve picked any image. They picked that pose, four times. They know what’s up.

Maybe Roger Goodell could understand why the treatment of Kaepernick is so unjust if he calmed himself for one second, stopped reacting to every angry phone call from an owner or a sponsor, and went to Denver or Seattle and smoked a nice legal joint. Maybe then he’d also understand why banning weed and punishing players for wanting to incorporate medical marijuana in the healing process is so absurd. Every player experiences repetitive head trauma, and they take addictive or even deadly pills to deal with the pain. If you take Vicodin, you shake when it’s

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