Transcript of a Phone Call From Ron Rivera to Jesse Jackson

Written By: TMC

Posted on February 20, 2007

Jackson: Yello?
Rivera: Good morning, Reverend Jackson, this is Ron Rivera…
Jackson: Who? I don’t know no Ron Rivera.
Rivera: I used to play for the Bears back in the ‘80s, and I most recently worked as their defensive coordinator…
Jackson: Who? What Bears we talking about? Is this some kind of hunting thing? I don’t hunt, you know. Not that I have any objection to it; my fingers are just too delicate.
Rivera: Oh. Well, this isn’t exactly about hunting. See—
Jackson: Good, that’s good. I’m anti-gun, you know. Too many young black men and women getting gunned down in the streets every day. It’s a travesty, an embarrassment, a terrible plague. Someone ought to do something about it.
Rivera: Um…
Jackson: So don’t be calling me about no guns. I don’t do guns. You got that?
Rivera: Sure. No guns.
Jackson: Good. So are we done then?
Rivera: Um, no, I don’t think so, Reverend. I was calling about something else…
Jackson: I’m a busy man, Mr. Rivers. I don’t have time to waste chit-chatting on the phone all day. Not when there’s souls to save. So if you got nothing important to say, then—
Rivera: Wait! It’s about racism in the NFL.
Jackson: Why the hell didn’t you say so? Who they holding back now? More penalties for the dances? You know that’s anti-black legislation, don’t you? Everyone knows only black men really dance, and I have the data here to prove that celebration penalties are called very disproportionately—
Rivera: Um, well, I’m kinda glad they cracked down on the dances. I hate that crap.
Jackson: This is so sad, a young brother being misled by the powers that be, being told that it’s wrong to express yourself through the art of dance. You have no reason to be ashamed of your heritage, son, and it’s a travesty that they’ve damaged you so much already.
Rivera: Can we just forget about the dances?
Jackson: That’s exactly what they’d like us to do, but we will never forget.
Rivera: Okay, right. Well, besides the dances, I’ve got something else on my mind.
Jackson: Is it about the franchise tag? I like to call it the rebirth of slavery
Rivera: Actually, the franchise tag just helped us hold on to one of our best players. His name’s Lance Briggs, and without the tag we probably never could have kept him. But I’m not calling about that either…
Jackson: Then what? The lack of black punters?
Rivera: Isn’t Reggie Roby still around?
Jackson: The mistreatment of Michael Vick?
Rivera: God no.
Jackson: Too much Ted Nugent at the stadiums instead of the Ying Yang Twins?
Rivera: The who?
Jackson: Biologically engineered turf made specifically to injure black men—
Rivera: What the hell? It’s none of that stuff. I’m calling because I just got fired even though I was the coordinator of the best defense in football.
Jackson: Discriminating against minority coaches again! And right after Dungy just won the Super Bowl, you’d think that stuff was over by now. Why didn’t you just say so? Go on…
Rivera: Well, I was supposed to be one of the big name candidates for head coaching jobs this season. My defense has carried the team for a few years now, and we just went to the Super Bowl.
Jackson: Oh brother, I know this story, done heard it a million times. You didn’t get a job did you? Just a handful of token interviews?
Rivera: Exactly. But it’s even worse than that.
Jackson: They hire white guys instead? Some retreads from the recycling bin of coaches?
Rivera: Actually, yeah. Wade Phillips, Norv Turner—a bunch of clowns who couldn’t win if they were running the only team in the league.
Jackson: Turner! I swear that boy’s been stealing jobs from brothers since I don’t know when—he’s worse than crack the way he drags us down.
Rivera: Um, yeah, I guess. Sure. But anyway, it’s even worse. My team just fired me for no reason, and since they waited until every other team had hired head coaches, I’m forced to take a job as the Chargers linebacker coach, working for old Norv. It’s either this or disappear completely from the NFL, and who knows if I ever get back then.
Jackson: That’s preposterous! You’ve been humiliated and demoted, despite being the best in the league at your job, and the only thing you done wrong was have the wrong color skin!
Rivera: Exactly. I mean, I guess. It just seems like my race has to have something to do with it. Why else would guys like Wade fuckin’ Phillips get hired while I get bumped back down to being a position coach?
Jackson: Oh, son, this is big. Rosa Parks big. I can see it now—marching on Washington, shouting from the pulpit for fair treatment, calling for Tagliabue’s resignation in front of Congress–
Rivera: Tagliabue already retired. There’s a new guy.
Jackson: Then we’ll get the new guy. Name don’t matter anyway; it’s the position we’re after. We’ll be all over CNN, ESPN, even ESPN2. This is the big-time, son. You’re the Crispus Attucks of a new generation, your career is dying for the Revolution. We make enough noise, rally the people and kick some doors down, and soon enough they won’t be able to get away with this crap anymore. We’ll tear this league down if we have to; no man should face the indignities you’ve faced just for being black—
Rivera: Just so you know, I’m not black.
Jackson: This some kind of prank? You playing me again, O’Reilly? If you ain’t black then what the hell are you?
Rivera: I’m Hispanic. Puerto Rican and Mexican.
Jackson: Dark skinned?
Rivera: Pretty light.
Jackson: And you say they discriminated. You sure you didn’t do anything wrong? Drugs, guns, something like that? Maybe the sexual harassment? I don’t get involved in that. Dirty business.
Rivera: I’m as clean as you are.
Jackson: Hm. You here legally?
Rivera: Hell yes I’m legal. I was born in California.
Jackson: And who fired you?
Rivera: The Bears. Lovie Smith never even explained himself.
Jackson: Lovie Smith? The brother who just lost the Super Bowl? He’s great, isn’t he? And you want me to take him on? Oh no, no way. Not a chance, my man. I ain’t about to take down a brother just to help out some Mexicans.
Rivera: But I thought you were supposed to be a crusader for minorities?
Jackson: I am. I fight for my people every chance I get.
Rivera: Then why don’t you fight for me?
Jackson: I said my people, not Mexican people. How’s it gonna look if I show up calling for Lovie Smith to get fired just because he wouldn’t let you take naps in the locker room?
Rivera: The only one taking naps was Grossman.
Jackson: Sorry, my man, but you’re on your own. I’m sitting this fight out; it’s not good for me, not worth it for you. Besides, it’s not like Hispanics had to deal with a history of slavery like we have; we’ve got enough to deal with without fighting battles for the Puerto Ricans.
Rivera: You’ve gotta be kidding me—Sharpton said the same thing.
Jackson: Al didn’t take it either? Whoo, boy, you’re definitely on your own. On the bright side, San Diego’s real nice. It’s not so bad working out there for a while, is it?
Rivera: This is ridiculous.
Jackson: You’re right. I can’t believe I wasted all this time on the phone when I’ve got more important things to do—I’ve got an appointment for a massage in 10 minutes.
Rivera: So much for defending the disadvantages and giving a voice to the voiceless…
Jackson: We done here? I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Rivera: Yeah, we’re done. Fake ass motherf—

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