A black man dies somewhere in America, the life leaking out of him over nine minutes as a wicked cop presses a knee to his neck, and the righteous anger and appalling opportunism spread here, to Philadelphia's neighborhoods and businesses, to a city that today seems nothing but shattered glass and wounded souls. We look for salves at a time like this, for leadership, and as strange as it might sound, we look to athletes to provide some of them. Yes, it might sound strange, but it's not. These days, we're as likely, if not more likely, to find those qualities among our sports stars as we are in the Oval Office, in the governor's mansion, or at City Hall.
We read the statement from Eagles quarterback Carson Wentz last week, an extended hand of friendship and understanding. We see Sixers forward Tobias Harris, joined by teammate Matisse Thybulle, marching through Philadelphia on Saturday, peacefully protesting George Floyd's death. It would be easy to dismiss these gestures and actions as half-measures, as cliched and tiresome and unnecessary. But if you look far enough into Philadelphia's past, you can find a similar moment 56 years ago � a horrible outbreak of violence at a time when the sports star of the city had little choice but to stay silent about it � and you can see how much has changed, and how much has not.
