Then on Sunday, September 24: history. It was the first time the national media had covered the anthem actions, and the protests hit every single team. You even had Trump supporters on the pregame shows—like former coach Rex Ryan, who had introduced him at campaign rallies—taking the president to the woodshed. The previous Sunday, nine of us players had protested during the anthem. Now we were talking 180 to 200 people: players, coaches, even owners. It was a league standing together to say that we were not going to be treated like this. More than any issue for which we had knelt before, now the protests were also about self-respect. Josh Norman, the cornerback for Washington, put it the right way, afterward:
It’s not about the flag, man.… Nobody is spitting on the flag or disrespecting it. We know you gave your life for it. We know that. And our gratitude to your services is deeply endeared. Understand that. But if somebody comes on your front porch and takes a piss, as a man, what are you going to do? Sit there and just watch him pee? Or are you gonna step outside and be like hey, what are you doing sir? You’re on private property. You’ve got to get off, or we’ll make you get off.
What a day that was. Some raised a fist, some knelt, some linked arms, and some stayed in the locker room while the anthem played, our absence being the strongest possible statement. That’s what the Seahawks did, and the team we were playing, the Tennessee Titans, did the same thing. Meanwhile, the woman singing the anthem, a country performer, took a knee. That made two anthem singers that Sunday who took a knee on the last note: a Black man in Detroit and a white woman in Nashville. In a divided country, we were forging unity: the unity of people who think we can do better.
What was so cool about the Titans also staying in the locker room was that it didn’t come out of a long conversation with the players on that team. We were all just on the same wavelength and did what we believed in. In that moment, we shared a blessed common direction.
On our team, it wasn’t easy to get to that place. The day before the game saw an emotional discussion. Everybody was expressing their feelings, talking about what they’d been through emotionally, physically, and spiritually over the previous twenty-four hours, and some people had different ideas about the protests. Trying to help all of us understand was not easy, and conversations definitely got heated. I can’t even say that we truly came together. We talked about all kinds of things we could do, and in the end, we had about 75 percent of the team buying into the locker room plan.
We also issued a statement that I’m very proud of, explaining our reasons. It read:
As a team we have decided we will not participate in the national anthem. We will not stand for the injustice that has plagued people of color in this country. Out of love for our country and in honor of the sacrifices made on our behalf, we unite to oppose those that would deny our most basic freedoms. We remain committed in continuing to work towards freedom and equality for all.
A big group of us worked on the statement, crafting every word. Different people picked apart and wrote certain sentences or pointed out what they wanted changed. There’s an expression, “A horse by committee is a hippopotamus,” but I thought we ended up with a pretty cool hippopotamus.
One aspect of the experience that was really special was when our quarterback, Russell Wilson, stepped up in the locker room and with the media, in support of all of us. We’ve got some big personalities in this locker room, and up to this point Russell had never been at the center of it when the political fires were hot. But he got in front of the team, and I was just proud to know him. He was vulnerable. He was emotional. And he made clear that doing nothing wasn’t an option. He said to the press, later:
I was passionate about it because I am really more concerned about what is next for our future and for our future kids, and what we are going to do with the people [who] are going to lead this world someday. I pray for my kids every day that when they go to school that racism isn’t a thing that stops them from going where they want to go. It’s not just my kids, it’s your kids, it’s everybody’s kids, and I think that is really critical. That was on my heart, especially.
It meant a lot to the players, but it also meant a lot to “the 12s,” the crew of Seahawks fans around the world. Russell is a superhero to both Black and white communities in our area. He’s an icon. His service work is unreal. And for him finally to voice his opinion on behalf of the people who look like him, who celebrate him but can’t afford to go to a game, was the embodiment of rising up when the times demand it. It’s a reminder not to judge someone for not speaking out but to create the space so that when their time comes, they’re ready. Russell shifted a lot of people’s perspective on the protests because he has a whole other audience. For him to say it changes a lot.
As for the games that Sunday, they were a blur. That’s how intense the reaction was. Every contest felt overshadowed. It was the first time in this country that sports operated on this elevated level, with everybody watching what we were going to do politically. That’s never really happened before. Ever.
It wasn’t perfect. There is no doubt that the original message of protesting racism in the criminal justice system, and showing solidarity with Colin Kaepernick, got
