The Man, Not the Rap Sheet: Remembering Sean Taylor

I was born and raised in San Francisco—the most beautiful city in the world and home to the San Francisco Giants and San Francisco 49ers.

I embraced and then discarded many fads during my Frisco days, but there was always one constant: my allegiance to my hometown teams.

I moved to Virginia a few years ago, and shifting my love to the Washington Redskins has proved to be mission impossible. I still root for the Niners, but I do try to watch at least a few Redskins games every year.

There are only a handful of Redskins players I'm familiar with—and Sean Taylor was one of them. He reminded me of Ronnie Lott, the hard-hitting 49ers safety who was an integral part of the team's dynasty in the 1980s.

Like Lott, Taylor was the antithesis of a prima donna athlete—he was a warrior who left every last drop of sweat and blood on the gridiron.

When a famous athlete dies, it's his heroics on the field that we remember—but it's his achievements or notoriety outside the lines that most often show up in the obituaries and news articles.

I don't think it's racist to note that Sean Taylor, an African American, had several brushes with the law. That said, it's important to keep things in context—and to recognize that Taylor was by all accounts a changed man since the birth of his daughter 18 months ago.

Unfortunately, some of the assumptions made by writers and pundits in the wake of Taylor's death have been marked by outright bigotry.

Shame on those who argued, before all the facts were in, that Taylor died a violent death simply because had a criminal record.

"It's his past catching up with him" was one of the comments I heard at work.

It would be more logical, and less prejudiced, to assume that Taylor met a violent end because his material wealth made him a target for armed robbers.

I don't have a police record, but I have made serious mistakes in my life—and I hope that when I die it's my essays and good deeds that my family and friends remember, and not my shortcomings.

Let's remember Sean Taylor the gifted football player, and not use his death as an excuse to characterize all African American athletes as thugs and criminals.

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