How Michael Vick Can Beat the Rap

The federal government has overstepped its bounds before—but here, I think they're in the wrong place at the right time.

On Tuesday, a federal grand jury indicted Falcons QB Michael Vick on charges that he "participated" in several dogfights prior to his entry into the NFL. The league has stated that Vick's actions were "cruel and degrading," but deferred a decision "until the charges are either upheld or dismissed."

So what's the story here— Plain and simple, the government wants to make an example out of a high-profile sports figure. And since they can't seem to snag Barry Bonds, Michael Vick will have to do.

Let's look at the facts.

Dogfighting has also been labeled, perhaps unfairly, as a "Dirty South" thing—a pastime for folks born and raised in the "ghetto." Is dogfighting a problem in South Philly, Brooklyn, South Central LA, Compton, or the Bronx? No one really knows—but everyone's already passing judgment.

This isn't the first time an athlete has been convicted in the court of public opinion before being tried in a court of law. Kobe Bryant, for example, was indicted on charges of sexual assault following a stay at a hotel in Eagle, Colorado. The charges didn't stick, but Bryant was pilloried for his infidelities. Even today, Kobe gets a vicious reception whenever the Lakers play in Denver.

The Duke lacrosse team also knows a thing or two about dropped charges—though at least the Blue Devils were portrayed as martyrs after a rape case against three of their brothers went bust.

Michael Vick has no criminal history. It's beyond dispute that he was present at the fights—but if anything, Vick is, in the words of one sportswriter, "guilty by association."

The bad news for Vick is that the charges have been levied at a time when the nation—and the government—has had its fill of troublemaking athletes. From Adam "Pacman" Jones to Tank Johnson to Barry Bonds, jocks have made a habit of generating bad headlines in the last year. And if Vick isn't careful, he'll end up being punished for the sins of others.

Vick isn't Jones or Johnson or Bonds. Pacman and Tank are repeat offenders. Bonds is a heartbeat away from being booed in his own ballpark. If Vick can learn from his mistakes and cop to his misdeeds, he'll be a bigger man for it—and he'll escape the fate that has befallen his predecessors. 

If he continues to hide behind his high-priced lawyers, though, Vick is doomed to be a pariah...or worse.

My take: Mike—you've got $100 million coming out of your keister. Tell your alter ego Ron Mexico to keep his gambling addiction in check before he costs you everything.

And Vicky-Boy, I do mean everything.

 

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