Stephen A. Smith: More civic-minded athletes would be welcome

Whenever an athlete opens his mouth and speaks on issues - political, social, or otherwise - he is likely told to shut up.

He is told to stay focused, to win games, to continue his role as the quintessential distraction so we don't have to think about what ails our society.

That is, until a Tiger Woods comes along and reveals a speck of himself on the same day that the U.S. House of Representatives approves a health-care reform bill - something former Eagles tackle Jon Runyan would, as a Republican candidate for New Jersey's Third Congressional District, have likely opposed. It's at that moment that we're forced to ask ourselves: Would it really be so bad if athletes were more publicly conscientious? About anything?

Considering the invasive world of today, where everything from cell-phone cameras to text messages to ATM machines are able to freeze-frame the most salacious, irresponsible and vile moments, the need for accountability is obvious - as clear as the Eagles' inability to win a Super Bowl title or the Sixers' inability to win a meaningful game. So what would be so wrong about an athlete speaking out, setting a standard and inviting inquiry? Especially if they have the credentials to shine brightly through it all?

Perhaps the time for silence has come to an end.

And maybe all the problems associated with athletes today stem from their being coddled, and shielded from the consequences of their actions.

One must be out in the open to have moved beyond the shadows. The more open an athlete is, the more accountable he becomes. At least one would hope.

Just listen to what Woods told ESPN on Sunday, when asked about how well he thinks the world knows him: "A lot better now," Woods explained, sounding decent and genuine for a change.

"I was living a lie," he continued. "I really was. I was doing a lot of things . . . that hurt a lot of people. Stripping away that denial and rationalization, you start coming to the truth of who you really are. . . . But then again, when you face it and you start conquering it, you start living up to it."

Now imagine a sports world filled with athletes who manage to come to this realization, then ask yourself: Would they really be experiencing the problems we read about today?

Would we hear about too much partying by Allen Iverson?

About debtors and creditors looking for former Boston Celtics star Antoine Walker?

Would Steelers star Ben Roethlisberger have ever managed to get accused of sexual assault - twice - within an eight-month span?

Would the nfl even be in need of a code of conduct policy? Particularly if Adam "Pacman" Jones, Plaxico Burress, then-Jacksonville Jaguar Matt Jones or a bevy of Cincinnati Bengals had not appeared to have become fixated with being arrested?

In years past, we didn't hear about Muhammad Ali, Bill Russell, Curt Flood, Jim Brown, Lew Alcindor (or as he later became known, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) or other stars in connection with rape and assault accusations, or read about their excessive drinking and gambling. It wasn't chronicled because there was a heftier price to be paid. There were larger issues - civil rights, free agency, community empowerment - that spoke to matters transcending any individual.

Athletes answered to others connected to their conscience, not a conscience connected to little other than their wallets or ego.

"I felt entitled," Woods said, "and that is not how I was raised."

The problem, with politicians and social activists - not just athletes - usually involves what becomes of them after they leave the cocoon of adolescence. Their lives are about getting, not giving. About standing apart from something, not for or about something.

It's been this way for years. It still is, until someone like Runyan comes along, providing hope for them all.

Whether Runyan wins or loses is of little consequence to people outside New Jersey's Third District. The fact is that at age 36, having earned millions and free to live his life as he wants, he is conscientious enough to want to run for office. That act epitomizes the meaning of a public servant. You can agree or disagree with his politics. You just can't question his motives.

As Runyan told The Inquirer earlier this week, "I really believe I'm qualified because I care," and what beautiful words they were to hear.

We don't hear those words much from anyone these days. With some, because they don't care. With others, because they're afraid.

Maybe, just maybe, the time for helping so many in the public eye to speak freely, intelligently and fearlessly has arrived.

The result, if nothing else, is more accountability.

Considering what we've seen in recent memory, it really can't be that bad.