Warrior culture and muscle men in the NFL

When this year’s NFL season opened, Miami Dolphins offensive tackle Richie Incognito was a “good guy.” At least that’s what the South Florida chapter of the Pro Football Writers Association thought. In 2012, they gave Incognito the “Good Guy Award” for being “a respected voice in the locker room” and a reliable representative of his team. Joining the Incognito praise-train, NFL.com ran a piece detailing Incognito’s supposed moral makeover.

The Saint Louis Rams had cut Incognito in 2009 after he delivered two head-butts in a single game, a violent punctuation mark to a career defined by erratic behavior on and off the field. But the lineman soon began confronting his problems. When he arrived in Miami, Incognito was taking medication for depression and anxiety, and practicing meditation to mitigate his aggression. Proof of his turnaround came during a 2013 pre-season game, when the Houston Texans’ Antonio Smith ripped off Incognito’s helmet and swung it at his head. Incognito walked away, a gesture that seemingly validated his newfound powers of restraint.

So Incognito’s image appeared to be trending up, until late October when a teammate— second-year lineman Jonathan Martin—left the Dolphins and sought treatment for emotional distress. Days later, news stories revealed that Incognito had been harassing his young counterpart, as evidenced by a series of racist, homophobic and threatening texts and voice mails. The Dolphins reacted by suspending Incognito and denouncing his actions. But reports allege that coaches had called upon the Incognitio to “toughen up” Martin. And the NFL more generally suffered a black eye when some players and commentators assumed a blame-the-victim posture, chastening Martin for, among other things, violating a locker room “code” of silence.