LenDale White vs. The City of Pittsburgh: A Primer on Sports Hate

Let's be honest, there are few things more entertaining in sports than when an athlete is absolutely despised by a city. And I don't mean despised in the Michael Jordan-tears-out-Cleveland's-heart-with-a-wooden-spoon level hate. That's rooted in Jordan's superhuman play on the field.

I mean on a level like LenDale White stomping on the Terrible Towel and refusing to apologize -- where the entire city is outraged at one particular player.

For those of you who don't remember, the Tennessee Titans played the Pittsburgh Steelers in the next-to-last game of the regular season last year. The Titans won 31-14 to lock up home-field advantage throughout the playoffs, and LenDale White celebrated by stomping on a Terrible Towel on the sideline.

The citizens of Pittsburgh reacted with outrage. White remains unrepentant, telling ESPN's Paul Kuharsky: "I'm a professional towel stomper. My nickname is LenDale 'The Towel Stomping' White. I've seen the big Ben Roethlisberger sandwich on TV. So if anybody wants to freeze it and send one over, I'll be more than happy to eat it."

At least White has never had weight issues or the reputation of being willing to eat anything.

But White's refusal to back down from the towel stomping is exactly what we need to make the environment as electric as possible when Tennessee visits Pittsburgh in Week 1. It brings to mind other instances when an athlete has been hated by the opposing fans.

Think Dennis Rodman in Utah after his comments about Mormons, J.D. Drew in Philadelphia after his spurning of the Phillies, or Chipper Jones in New York (naming his daughter, Shea, really?). The kind of hate that ferments, that's personal, something that goes directly to the heart of the city and makes people so angry they can't utter your name without including a seven-letter expletive that begins with the letter "f" -- think Boston's reaction to Bucky (blanking) Dent.



Shannon Sharpe did this to the Titans during the Ravens' run to the Super Bowl in 2001. He insulted the city of Nashville and Titans fans. I don't even remember what the quotes were, I just remember that Sharpe made my mom steaming mad.

"Did you hear what he said about the Titans?" she asked, eyes burning with a mother's fury. As if Sharpe had just poked my eye out on the neighborhood playground.

That's when you know you've hit the gold standard of sports hate, when the moms are mad at you. Getting middle-aged men who dress up in their team's jerseys ticked off isn't really that hard -- these guys live on their team being "disrespected." They're the Joey Porter's of trash talk, quick to be offended but never really able to explain why they've been offended.

But moms who are fans? If you can get a mom mad by talking about a team or city, you know you've hit the mark. In my entire life, my mom has been mad at an opposing player exactly one time. She still hates Sharpe.

And I still hate the Baltimore Ravens. Which is awesome for the NFL. Love and hate keeps television ratings strong -- indifference is the only thing that could kill the NFL's golden goose. And people in Pittsburgh aren't indifferent to White right now. They hate him. Probably worse than they hate any player in the NFL. How bad is it? They actually like Ray Lewis in comparison.

As the NFL's opening weekend looms closer and closer, the LenDale White towel-stomping incident is going to be talked about over and over again. So will the game. But what I think is more interesting is this question: How does one player stir up the animus of an entire city. Let's break it down.

1. You can't be the best player on the team. Barry Bonds memorably said that you have to be able to do something really well to have 70,000 people hate you. That's true. Ordinary hate of a player because of his superior performance on the field is fairly commonplace. That's enjoyable, but it isn't particularly personal. What we're after is true hate that extends beyond the field. Put it this way, people may boo Kobe Bryant when he plays against their team, but if they saw him at McDonald's, they'd want their picture taken with him. LenDale White? Pittsburgh fans would put arsenic in his Coke right now, replace his pickles with razor blades.

2. You have to be unrepentant and embrace the feud. LenDale's public comments suggest that, if anything, he's comfortable with being hated. In this day and age some athletes aren't comfortable with this. For example can you imagine LenDale's USC teammate, Reggie Bush, taking on Pittsburgh? Aside from the fact that he hasn't done anything on the field, of course not -- he'd be worried that Subway sales would plummet in the area. LenDale? He has nothing to fear but fear itself. Roosevelt would be proud.

3. Your act has to be offensive to the opposing fan base, but not offensive to the rest of America. Stomping on the terrible towel ... good; flicking off a fan or spitting on a child ... not good. Do the latter two things, and you'd have to apologize for your behavior. You'd have to stand in front of a camera and pretend to be contrite. Then you'd have to button your lips and say nothing about the feud for the rest of your playing career. Stomp on the Terrible Towel, and you've done just enough to anger everyone in a particular city. But not enough that the NFL has to take action. Perfect.

4. You have to be on the field enough to be booed consistently. In football terms, you have to be around the action so that fan's can voice their displeasure. You can't be a defensive tackle or an offensive guard, it has to be possible for every fan in the stadium to focus on you. And, as we said before, you can't be the best player on your team. Because then the fans already dislike you, solely based upon your performance. In the NFL, running back or wide receiver are the perfect positions to provoke the most hate.

5. Your act has to somehow reach beyond a team and rise to the level of offending a city. Who knew that the Terrible Towel was like Pittsburgh's own shroud of Turin? I mean, really, a city's well-being bound up in a towel? The Terrible Towel is so lame it makes SEC pom-poms look cool. But evidently, it also encapsulates the hopes and dreams of Pittsburgh residents. It's a metaphorical bridge across generations in the city of bridges. Mothers and grandmothers across the city of Pittsburgh hate White. All because of a towel.

Wow.



6. If you can include your act in a nickname, that's even better. Or much lamer. Either way it's perfect for the feud because it keeps it fresh. Seriously, White saying he's known as "The Towel Stomping" one is priceless for three reasons. First, because as a primary rule, you can't self nickname yourself. Second, you can't have a nickname that takes longer to say than your actual name -- that defeats the entire purpose of the nickname. White's entire name is three syllables long. "The Towel Stomping" is five, nearly twice as long. This has been a firm rule of mine, since a law school professor, Chris Yoo, claimed during class that his college nickname was "The Human Study Break." His self nickname was three-times as long as his actual name. That alone convinced us the nickname was made up.

Third, and this is key, White could redeem himself by asking that during the week of the game he be referred to as t.s. white in all articles. (t.s. of course as a shortened version of towel stomping.) He should say he's doing so to pay homage to t.s. eliot. Few would appreciate the gesture, but English teachers everywhere would swoon.

7. The player has to treat pro sports like he's a WWE wrestler. To his credit, White realizes he's an entertainer. An awful lot of NFL players get wrapped up in their sport, and begin to see themselves as United Nations representatives. Far be it for them to say anything interesting, they've got a constituency to support. Except they don't. Kill the UN angle, please. I'm glad you respect Botswana/The New England Patriots. But I don't care. I want you to toss cliches and entertain me, embrace your inner Vince McMahon. Walk around with a microphone, screaming so loud you're on the verge of giving yourself a hernia.

8. We need an offseason for the hate to ferment. Rarely do hate and the hated, NFL matter and anti-matter, collide in so precarious of an environment. We're talking about a nationally-televised game on Sept. 10, at night, between the two best teams in the AFC last season.

I want LenDale entering Heinz Field holding the Terrible Towel above his head like a championship belt. Then, just as he reaches midfield, I want him to dramatically toss it aside. Then raise his hands to the heavens and wiggle his fingers to the roaring masses. Let him bathe in the hate.

I can't wait. Please make this happen LenDale, please.