It's been that way this week for Lolo Jones, America's decorated (but not Olympic-medal-winning) hurdler. The flap started Saturday, when Jere Longman wrote a piece in The New York Times titled "For Lolo Jones, Everything is Image." This is the perfect case of a headline encapsulating the thesis of an article, but for further clarification, here's a choice quote:
Jones has received far greater publicity than any other American track and field athlete competing in the London Games. This was based not on achievement but on her exotic beauty and on a sad and cynical marketing campaign.Cue Tuesday's 100-meter hurdle final, in which Jones finished fourth, a full tenth of a second behind U.S. teammate Kellie Wells, who earned the bronze. She and Dawn Harper, who earned silver in the event, have bristled about the attention given Jones despite their performances.
For her part, Jones appeared on the "Today" show Wednesday morning, tearfully accusing the media of picking her out for criticism. "They should be supporting our U.S. athletes," Jones said of the American media. "And instead, they just ripped me to shreds."
This piece does not seek to add to the debate about Jones' credentials, nor critique her public persona. Plenty have stepped in to defend Jones against the media, including the Awful Announcing blog that I frequent and a piece in today's Chicago Sun-Times I read over breakfast from Richard Roeper. I'm not interested in this question, as I believe it's a point of subjective taste whether you think Jones went too far in overyhyping herself leading up to the Games, and if the media is truly culpable in her failure to medal.
What is interesting, and what makes me feel personally invested in the story, is how Jones reacted to the criticism. A tearful exchange on the "Today" show, dejected tweets and astonishment that the media might actually criticize one of its athletes, instead of simply throwing out rosy puff pieces, screams arrested development to me. It echoes the oft-juvenile behavior of LeBron James following "the Decision" backlash of several years ago. Plainly put, elite athletes live inside a cocoon during their prime, surrounded by supportive friends, coaches and fellow athletes. They are comped hotel rooms, food and endorsements and are often not subjected to the travails of the real world.
I can speak partially from experience, as having been a scholarship college athlete (in track and field, no less). You stay in hotel rooms, where everything is prepackaged. Meals are catered. Stipends are handed out. Books, classes and housing is paid for. All of these things are excellent perks that allow athletes from disadvantaged backgrounds (or the occasional white kid from the suburbs) terrific opportunities. But it also keeps you from realizing just how difficult certain things in life can be.
This is not to belittle the conditions of Jones' upbringing. Growing up with a single mom, living in a church basement is an experience I will never be able to relate to. Career-threatening injury was something I didn't have to worry about. At the same time, Jones' plea for the media to get their facts straight and her bumbling recitation of her accomplishments to the "Today" show interviewer screams, "I'm being abused! Somebody save me from the big bad world!"
Professional athletes in New York don't act this way. Scrutiny and media attention are something that seasoned veterans are able to brush aside. We expect collegiate athletes to act this way: kickers who miss the big one, pitchers who give up the game-winning home run, track stars who miss the big race due to a freak injury. We anticipate their inability to cope with these setbacks because, after all, they're learning.
Most of them do. They go on to achieve in areas other than athletics, and become successfully in the industry they choose. Elite athletes who continue to live inside this bubble do not.
Consider the checkered past of Kobe Bryant. Or the complete meltdown of Ryan Leaf. These are athletes who lived inside a world free from (or with scarcer) want.
Lolo Jones may be the most prominent example of this phenomenon yet. However you feel about her self-avowed virginity, it's another sign of arrested development. Public tweets about who to date are something you expect from 16-year-olds, not 30-year-old two-time Olympians.
The adult world has sex in it. It has strife. And it has a media that will just as happily pick you up as it will spit you out.
Lolo Jones may have just learned that on the biggest stage possible. And boy, it just might make her change her tone.
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