A formal defense of "White Cornerback"

“White Cornerback” tells the story of an unnamed protagonist who chases an ill-fated dream of being a cornerback despite two deficits, one real and one perceived: He is not that good at football, and he is white. Our main concern right now is whether the song presents the former as caused by the latter, a proposition that would be racist. I argue that it does not.

First of all, the song’s jocular nature lends the entire context a license of absurdity in which the real question of racialization can be isolated. Aside from the attention-grabbing title, the factors of the song that announce it as a joke are largely non-racial: him being “ugly as shit,” the farcical cause of his roster promotion being “a single fateful pileup” injuring all the other DBs, the general futility of his hero’s quest. The “RAWK SONG!” sound of the music itself was intended to be over-the-top and humorous, like hearing someone listening to nu-metal would be.

The founding joke of the song, though, is unapologetically the role that the protagonist’s race plays in his peers’ assessment of his football skill. The mere proposition of a white cornerback is an oddity that anyone who follows pro football will immediately grasp. This is not an observation that we originated. Cornerback is the most racially homogenous position in the NFL: as of December 2011, all 167 active CBs on NFL rosters were black. The last full-time white corner was Jason Sehorn in 2002. The nonexistence of the white CB has prompted a good deal of inquiry and yet remains unexplained. In an era of miscegenation between other traditionally racialized football positions — the classic example of this progress being the now-common black quarterback — the mysterious lack of white, or even non-black, NFL cornerbacks grows more conspicuous by the season.

The racialization of football positions is often the product of stereotyping during players’ developmental careers. As Ozzie Newsome explains in the NY Times article linked above, he was a black college quarterback in the 70’s, which meant that in order to break into the NFL he had to transition to WR purely to conform to his coaches’ expectations. The reverse also exists. The Complex piece, also linked, cites the story of Peyton Hillis as an example of positional stereotyping working both ways. Hillis was consigned to fullback — a “white-friendly” position — in college and in Denver before finally getting a shot to play RB as an injury replacement in Cleveland, where he (briefly) excelled. If merit and potential were the only factors coaches used to assess players, why would Hillis’s coaches not give him a chance to play a traditionally “black” position? The conclusion must involve stereotyping, which is alogical, thus absurd, thus comical. In poking fun at the absence of white cornerbacks, all the heavy lifting is done for us.

I agree that it would be problematic if our song subscribed to the same fallacious assumptions that keep whites from playing corner, but it does not. The lyrics for this song have undergone about six revisions and a dozen minor tweaks, all done while wasting time at work like I’m doing right now. The final draft removes mention of him getting blown by over the top and having to set up way off the line due to his slow whiteness. The result is an unclear picture of how good he actually is. The song contains four explicit descriptions of his ability, two positive and two negative. We can’t tell. For someone to claim that the song endorses a racial stereotype, they would have to establish that he is a bad cornerback — in which case, how is he “making the plays” and “quick as the wind?” — and further, that we give his race as the reason. The text satisfies neither. He’s a mediocre corner. Was Rudy a shitty player because he was white, or because random little guys aren’t great at football? Our character — and our cause for his mediocrity — is similar.

The joke is that his oft-mentioned race, not his ability, is how his universe interacts with him, for the simple reason that he dares to violate the stereotype of the position. Peyton Hillis experienced as much in the same situation, so there is real foundation for this scenario.

“No way these days” refers to the NFL’s history of racial exclusion, presumably an era when our protagonist could have had a shot. The Times article, in trying to recount the history of the demise of white corners, recalls a time when an informal quota of black players helped preserve the status of white position players. Upon full integration, though, the number of white cornerbacks dropped off to eventually nothing. Again, we propose no reason for this fact, only allude to it and make it central to the joke.

The key to interpreting “White Cornerback” is the overtly political bridge section, which imagines the perspective of his black taunters. The message the opponent delivers is clear: if the CB was, for example, a gay or an Asian football player, that would really be a noteworthy accomplishment of diversity. As it is, though, he’s just a white guy, the same as the people who run the league, who profit most off the black bodies colliding with each other and getting CTE, same as the fans who are entertained by the black bodies performing, same as the people who run society. Why strive at this thing you’re not good at, he says. If I were you, I would resign to my good fortune and “stay away from the game” where real merit is the determiner. The insinuation being that society at large is not the same meritocracy as a football field—it favors people like the protagonist.

I recognize that this is about professional football, yet our character plays Division 3. Of course there are plenty of white cornerbacks in D3, but I didn’t want to have to make him a member of a pro team — he’s not that good — and it’s funnier if the stakes for his relentless striving are lower.

A note on the verbiage. The two mentions of the race of his opponents are phrased as “receivers of color” and “brothers.” “People of color” is a preferred update on the less-inclusive “nonwhite” and “minority.” “Receiver of color” is an inversion of that term, no different than if a black citizen of Australia were described as “African-Australian.” “Brother,” to me, is a common colloquialism indicating, if anything, endearment. I feel comfortable using both. Let's not lose sight of the fact that these are song lyrics and not a valedictorian speech.

Football is a uniquely hierarchical sport, and in that way it mimics our society. Consider the indication that the quarterback position provides regarding the racialization of a football roster: it’s no coincidence that the most important position on the field has traditionally been entrusted to whites by white coaches/owners, and it’s no coincidence that this position is what the scouts in the last verse are there to see. I imagine the song's QB to be white, which makes their surprise at seeing another white player “out of position” that much more absurd.

It’s always delicate to use race as the subject of a joke, but I believe that “White Cornerback” creates room for reflection inside of the joke. Most of all, I think that the novelty of a white cornerback is self-evident to anyone who gets it. We do not make any claim about natural ability, nor does the central concept require it. The object of the humor is the outsize importance that the player’s race plays on others’ impressions of him.

Personally, I would be thrilled if someone cried foul about this song, because then more than our fifteen friends would hear it.

LYRICS:

Hundred forty five coming in from a deluge
Quick as the wind as he's quicker to tell you
White as the paint on the wall of his room
where he sits with the pain that's about to consume
shoulder is separate, he doesn't mention
Coach is just waiting for a reason to bench him

Ugly as shit when he looks in the mirror
wrestling champion, his ear disfigured
Climbing the depth chart, making the plays
Taking on everyone coming his way
One of a kind if you're not colorblind
hearing receivers of color run by and say

No way these days, no way these days

Backup since eleventh grade and now he's in D-III
A single fateful pileup injured all of the DB's
Never was swayed, though opponents would say
Boy if I were you I would stick to croquet
Bit on the wheel route, late on the quick out
Almost got a pick and got demolished and heard 'em say

Maybe if you weren't straight
We could all hi-five that we beat the hate
Shinto, Hindu
We could use you

Why go this way?
You see our bodies breaking
Good life awaits
With that skin I see baking

Just resign
to your short climb

Stay away from the game with a righteous play
Stay away from the game with a righteous play

In the conference semi-quarterfinals he's starting
Covering brothers zig-zagging and darting
Playing for scouts, it was his fantasy
They were only there for the other QB
Only drew interest when he busted a ligament
"Why's that cornerback got that funny pigment" they said

No way these days