Too Much of the Josh Brown Case Sounds Familiar

It's hard to imagine 2016 getting much worse for the NFL. Ratings are down 11 percent this season, and the league's decision-making has been called into question time and again, from its continued mishandling of concussions to the obscene amount of time and money invested in disciplining the league's biggest star over deflated footballs. And now, more than two years after video surfaced of Ray Rice knocking his fiancée unconscious in an Atlantic City hotel elevator—an incident that prompted the league to institute a "zero-tolerance" policy toward domestic violence—the NFL once again has a public relations nightmare on its hands over an athlete's alleged abuse.

On Tuesday, the New York Giants cut ties with kicker Josh Brown, 17 months after he was arrested on domestic violence charges involving his wife, Molly. This time it was a journal, not a video, that appears to finally have crossed a line. Beyond that, the situation seems all too familiar.

The NFL's initial response to Brown's arrest was a one-game suspension it announced in August. Though Molly reportedly told police that her husband had been violent with her on more than 20 occasions, a criminal case against Brown was never prosecuted. The length of Brown's punishment was a significant downward departure from the baseline of six games outlined in the league's conduct policy, but the NFL argued that the lack of cooperation from Molly and law enforcement officers left them unable to do more.

Meanwhile, the Giants had just re-signed the kicker to a two-year, $4 million contract. "Based on the facts and circumstances that we were aware of at that time, we were comfortable with our decision to re-sign him," co-owner John Mara said in August. "Nothing has happened in the meantime to make us question that decision. This is an issue, domestic violence, that we take very seriously here."

Brown only became toxic to the team and the league last week, when additional documents were released by the Kings County (Washington) Sheriff's office, including a journal kept by Brown, in which he admitted to a history of physical and emotional abuse of Molly. At one point, in papers dated two years before his 2015 arrest, Josh Brown wrote, "I became an abuser and hurt [my wife] physically, emotionally and verbally. I viewed myself as God basically and she was my slave." Other documents alleged that NFL security needed to intervene and help keep him from Molly at the Pro Bowl.

The new revelations sent the league scrambling. Within days, the NFL placed Brown on the Commissioner's Exempt list and vowed to reopen its investigation. The Giants quickly announced that Brown would not travel with the team to London for a Week 7 matchup with Rams, and executives were left trying to explain. "He's admitted to us he's abused his wife in the past," Mara said. "But what I think is a little unclear is the extent of that."

The Giants finally made the decision to release Brown after they returned home from that game.

For his part, Brown released the following statement to ESPN's Adam Schefter shortly before his release was announced by the team:

"I am sorry that my past has called into question the character or integrity of The New York Giants, [Giants owner John] Mara or any of those who have supported me along the way. I have taken measures to get help so that I may be the voice of change, not a statistic. It is important to share that I never struck my wife, and never would. Abuse takes many forms, and is not a gray area. Through the past several years I have worked to identify and rectify my own behaviors. The road to rehabilitation is a journey and a constant modification of a way of life. My journey will continue forever as a person determined to leave a positive legacy and I embrace the opportunities to show and speak about what has helped me to be that man. In the interim, I am cooperating with the Giants and the NFL. Thank you to everyone that has supported me, I will not let you down."

(The Giants re-released Brown's statement a short time later, but without the claim that Brown had never struck his wife. The team gave no explanation for the revised release.)

Mara took responsibility for his organization, saying, "Our beliefs, our judgments and our decisions were misguided," but it's not the first time a team, or league, has had to apologize for mishandling a case involving violence against women, and likely far from the last. For all the "No More" public service announcements and letters promising change, the NFL is still somehow unable to respond to allegations of domestic violence in a way that doesn't alienate abuse victims and women. (That the league otherwise spends so much time marketing football to women makes it even more frustrating).

In the wake of the Ray Rice disaster, Goodell pledged that the NFL would "do better" on issues of domestic violence and sexual assault. The league revamped its personal conduct policy, with new guidelines for investigating and punishing violations, and brought in high-powered victims' advocates like former New York City sex crimes prosecutor Lisa Friel, who serves as Special Counsel for Investigations. It worked with the NFL Players' Association and other groups to create mandatory education programs for all league employees, including players. This past June, the league announced $10 million in funding to various non-profits to combat violence against women. Privately, however, workers at some organizations that have received NFL grants have expressed frustration with the league's handling of player discipline and a fear of losing funding for their organizations if they are openly critical of the NFL's progress on the issue. Goodell, for one, said on Wednesday that he believes the league has made "tremendous progress."

While the league purports to educate teams about the signs of domestic abuse and how to prevent it, watching how the Giants handled Brown leaves plenty of room for doubt about how effective the training has been and whether the NFL actually takes violence against women seriously.

"It doesn't matter, we're all family around here," Jason Pierre-Paul told the media after Brown's suspension and the allegations first came to light in August. "People have their own problems to handle. He's still our brother and we look past it. We going to need him. Every player, we're going to need them." He went on to chastise the media who asked him about specific allegations against Brown, saying "you weren't there."

Even after last week's revelations, Giants head coach Ben McAdoo came out strongly in defense of Brown, saying the team would not "turn its back on" the kicker. "As a teammate, I am behind Josh Brown," Victor Cruz said. "I just want him to get himself right and make sure that he is able to overcome these things."

But abuse of a partner is not an obstacle to be "overcome," and certainly not by spectacular play on the field or by behaving oneself in the locker room. And while "us against them" is a great narrative for game week, it's frightening when players and coaches use it to talk about the dynamics between an accuser and an alleged abuser, or to suggest, as Pierre-Paul did, that anyone who didn't witness domestic abuse is precluded from speaking about it. Most partner abuse happens behind closed doors and is known to no one other than the two parties involved; videos like the one in the Ray Rice case are rare.

The Giants aren't the first team to fail badly when it comes to discussing violence against women. Last year, Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones was heavily criticized for his comments on defensive end Greg Hardy, whose ten-game suspension for domestic violence was reduced to four games by an arbitrator. Despite a being charged with a brutal beating of a girlfriend, Jones called Hardy a "respected leader" who was deserving of a contract extension. The year prior, Chicago Bears owner George McCaskey defended his signing of accused abuser Ray McDonald, saying that victims are often biased in their feelings towards the men they accuse.

Every time an NFL player is accused of violence against a woman, we can count on players and coaches to minimize allegations, casting doubt on the veracity of accusers or downplaying the extent of abuse. One only has to take to social media to see the effect it has on young men and women parroting players' words each time a teammate is accused of committing abuse. Given that only 25-30 percent of domestic violence cases are reported to police, our society can ill afford to have pro athletes from a sport that lays claim to a day of the week talking about violence against women in a way that discourages more victims from coming forward. No More's website lists "Let [domestic violence victims] know you believe them" as the second step of their primer for helping abuse victims. Despite the mountain of evidence that now exists against Josh Brown, we've yet to have a single member of Giants organization simply say that he believes Molly Brown.

Like it or not, professional sports often frame the national conversation when it comes to issues like violence against women, substance abuse, and racial equality. It's hard to imagine that the country would be engaged in a national debate about domestic violence had the Ray Rice video not forced the issue. It's also the unfortunate reality that the comments of Brown's teammates will resonate far more strongly with fans and players across the league than all the columnists writing about domestic violence combined. For that reason, it's imperative the NFL get this issue right. It's long past the time the league does a better job of teaching players, coaches, and owners how to talk about violence against women.

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