f the team he grew up worshiping.
Brian Davis was faster than Lisowski [url=http://www.authenticsarizonacardinals.com/cheap-chase-edmonds-jersey]Cheap
Chase Edmonds Jersey[/url] , if the stories his peers tell are true. Davis, the last white guy to play cornerback regularly in the NFL before Sehorn and Kaesviharn came along, started 15 games for the Redskins in 1988 and ’89 (opposite Hall of Famer Darrell Green) and was a backup for three other teams before he retired in ’95. If Lisowski resembled an impassioned orc at his pro day, then Davis in his prime was a bronzed Jeff Spicoli who didn’t know what a pro day was.[img]http://www.sndpic.com//nike_nfl_jerseys/nike_new_york_giants/nike_giants_140.jpg[/img]
Neither his surfer hair nor his 6'鈥?″ knife of a body have changed much since Davis, now 53, jogged onto the field for Super Bowl XXII. That day, as Doug Williams became the first black quarterback to hoist the Lombardi Trophy, Davis became the last white cornerback to do so. Twenty-six years would pass before Russell Wilson equaled Williams’s achievement, in 2014, during which time black backup QBs won seven Super Bowl rings. Meanwhile, other than Sehorn (who allowed a 38-yard TD to receiver Brandon Stokely in the Giants’ Super Bowl XXXV loss to the Ravens—“We call that white on white crime,” says retired cornerback Dustin Fox), no white cornerback has even suited up for the NFL’s championship game.
“If you’re a white corner [url=http://www.authenticsarizonacardinals.com/cheap-mason-cole-jersey]Cheap
Mason Cole Jersey[/url] , you’re guilty until proven innocent,” Davis explains during a break from his job as a trainer in his hometown of Phoenix. He has worked in the past with MMA champions and 2008 Olympic wrestling gold medalist Henry Cejudo, among others, and he doesn’t know how to pull a punch. “I’m not going to be politically correct about this,” he warns. “It comes down to this: How many white guys are f鈥戔€戔€戔€戔€戔€?fast enough to play cornerback in the NFL? Very, very few. It just doesn’t show up as often in white bodies. Even if I’m a white coach or a coach who’s pulling for [the white cornerback], I’m still thinking, ‘Why is he here? I don’t want him. He can’t run, he can’t jump, he’s too damn nice.’ That’s another stereotype, by the way: nice, polite. [NFL coaches] want a f—— baller.”
Even at the pinnacle of Davis’s career, when he capped Washington’s Super Bowl–record 35-point second quarter by intercepting John Elway just before halftime [url=http://www.authenticsarizonacardinals.com/cheap-christian-kirk-jersey]Cheap
Christian Kirk Jersey[/url] , Davis was overlooked. ABC’s Dan Dierdorf (and the ensuing NFL Films documentary about the game) called him Tony Davis. Brian Davis was not wired to care about such minor details, even though the mistake did lend him a whiff of ethnicity. Besides, he endured worse disrespect on the field.
“I heard every kind of white boy comment you can think of,” he says. In particular he remembers an older, gray-haired man in Oakland who used to chain-smoke on the sideline during warmups. “He’d be over there laughing, saying, ‘Look, it’s the great white buffalo! Hey, you’re the long-lost white buffalo!’ I was like, Who is this guy? How’d he get down here? My teammates told me, ‘That’s Fred Biletnikoff.’鈥?rdquo;
Davis became close with Williams when they both played for Washington. “Doug said to me one time, ‘BD, what I like about you [url=http://www.authenticsarizonacardinals.com/cheap-josh-rosen-jersey]Cheap
Josh Rosen Jersey[/url] , you don’t see color,’” says Davis. “To me, that’s one of the highest praises you can give someone. That’s how I’ve tried to raise my [kids].
“I remember one time, my daughter was about eight. She was playing with three or four kids and there was one black girl in their little group. Afterward my daughter was trying to tell me something about this girl—she was describing her shirt, her brown eyes, everything about her. And I go, ‘Wait, are you talking about the black kid?’ ”
“She goes, ‘You mean the brown one?’”
“To me, that’s what Dr. King was talking about,” Davis says. Then he quotes the late civil rights leader word for word: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”
“If blacks are superior, why is the league wasting all of this money on scouting?” Dr. Harry Edwards asked. “Just go to the black community and scoop up all your players and win every game.’
But how might Dr. King have reacted if a scientist showed him studies suggesting that black men are better equipped than white men for 160 of the most coveted, highest-paying jobs in America, that white cornerbacks are inferior to those of African descent?
A sizable chunk of our population considers the mere discussion of these issues to be morally vile. But as Jon Entine asked in his book, Taboo: Why Black Athletes Dominate Sports and Why We’re Afraid to Talk About it, “What are we to make of the fact that an athlete of African ancestry holds every major running record, from the 100 meters to the marathon?” Entine, a senior research fellow at Cal who founded the Genetic Literacy Project, explains how all this relates to NFL cornerbacks: “In addition to sprinting speed, numerous studies have shown that athletes of African ancestry generally have longer extremities than white athletes. This is one of the ways Africans have dissipated body heat over thousands of years in sub鈥慡aharan conditions.
Long arms, of course, are nearly as dear to aspiring cornerbacks as speed; ask any corner who has found himself out of position on a fade. Studies published in the American Journal of Physical Anthropology.