Earlier this week, while driving to the gym, I noticed a fresh piece of graffiti on the wall of a party store not far from my house.
"Ralph is a snitch," it says.
I'm not sure who "Ralph" is, but needless to say he has either already moved to his people down south or is at least thinking about it. Being put on blast as a snitch, even in a midsized city like mine, is equivalent to having a hit put on your life.
It's been more than 20 years since I last ran with the wrong crowd in Detroit, but on some things, such as talking to the cops, you don't need to be updated. You just don't do it. Not if you want to be able to walk home from school without getting beat down.
Not if you want to keep it real.
Keep it gully.
Stay black.
What does graffiti on a storefront have to do with being black, and what does any of this have to do with sports?
On the surface, everything.
At this point, anyone who still believes black culture, sports and violence are three topics existing in separate vacuums probably still listens to cassettes. The truth is, sometime between Melvin Van Peebles' "Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song" and Jay-Z's "The Black Album," the image of the black athlete went from being a symbol to rally around to a figure to take cover from, and that's not just because the mainstream media is reporting negative stories. It's also because a significant number of black athletes and celebrities are doing negative things, such as mimicking contrived images created in the early 1990s to market a mutilated form of hip-hop to eager, misinformed suburbanites.
Although the Gilbert Arenas and Marvin Harrison headlines are hardly significant enough to paint an entire group of people with a broad "thug" brush -- as many critics of the NBA, in which more than 75 percent of the athletes are black, tend to do -- these stories can't be categorized as anomalies. The black athlete is at a major crossroads, as is the black community, and we can no longer afford to keep the dirty laundry in the hamper because while we're busy trying to save face, our kids continue to die in our streets. I don't mean to exclude white teammates from the discussion, but there once was a time in which members of the black community more readily kept each other in check.
This is why it is important that the "Ralphs" of the world speak up. And not just the "Ralphs" in the streets or the "Ralphs" in the media, but also the jersey-clad "Ralphs" in the locker rooms. The vast majority are decent men who try to ignore the stench from the few around them because they are trying to honor a code that has outlived its usefulness at best and been a detriment at worst.
I'm not suggesting players hold news conferences condemning each other or start running to management and coaches like house slaves going to master. But I am suggesting they start running to and policing each other more. Snitch, confront, reclaim -- I don't care what they call it, as long as it results in fewer names of black athletes on the police log.
Over the years, I've talked to prominent black athletes such as Rockets shooting guard Tracy McGrady and Giants defensive end Osi Umenyiora who are frustrated that the media's attention seems to be overly focused on the players who make trouble. Although I understand where they are coming from, maybe it's time these and other athletes give those misguided players some added attention, as well. If black athletes treat only the wounds inflicted by others and not the self-inflicted ones, the image of the black athlete will never heal. I do not believe we, as a community, are so far removed from the notion of "I am my brother's keeper" that athletes cannot slowly begin to forge a new code to abide by.
A code that's designed to support teammates not with initials scribbled on the soles of shoes once they've been suspended or arrested, but rather by helping them avoid getting to that point in the first place. If athletes are strong enough to hold each other accountable for what happens on the field of play, they are strong enough to confront each other for engaging in behavior that can hurt the team in other ways.
In my neck of the woods, "Ralph" could be in trouble not because he cut a deal with police or reported a crime but because he's out there on his own. If those around him stopped being silent in the face of wrongdoing, it would be the perpetrators who would be more fearful. The same is true in the locker rooms. By far, most of the players I've encountered in the various leagues are really good people who are doing amazing things in their communities. If they just spoke up more for what they know is right, as opposed to remaining silent or letting their respective players' associations do the talking, then perhaps illegal behavior among black athletes could be curtailed. We greet each other with "Whaddup, fam?" Maybe we should try to actually be fam.
I know, I know, some guys are selfish and don't give a damn about anyone but themselves. Maybe former University of Tennessee basketball player Tyler Smith was just a bad seed and no conversation would have saved him.
There are also some people who just won't listen to reason. It's been reported those close to Arenas tried to get him to cut out his Twitter act before he was slapped with a felony gun charge. As my mama says, "A hard head makes a soft behind." But saying they'll always be evil is a cop-out excuse for not doing good.
I believe it is imperative that more black athletes -- particularly those who grew up similarly -- at least try to get through to one another because no one else can. Not writers like me, not news reports, not coaches and not agents. If there is a chance that positive peer pressure could help turn one person around, isn't that a chance worth taking?
As it is, we're barely two weeks into the new year and we've already seen two black athletes facing legal issues and a recently retired third, Harrison, being investigated by the FBI for a possible connection to murder.
At this rate, fans will have to peek through barbed wire to see the best games, which would be funny if there wasn't a grain of truth to it.
LZ Granderson is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine and a regular contributor to ESPN.com. He can be reached at lzgranderson@yahoo.com.