We are in the early stages of yet another Daniel Snyder legal entanglement, this time allegations that the Commanders’ owner acted like a nefarious usher at church, swiping some of the singles from the basket before it reached the altar. Some in the media are billing this as the kind of transgression that could finally sink his troubled tenure as an NFL owner (the franchise, for what it’s worth, is forcefully denying those allegations and in a statement Monday accused the source of the story of perjury).
But we’re here to tell you that it can’t fully sink Snyder. At least not all on its own. And the NFL needs to know as much.
Snyder is just now recovering from the public outrage over a scandal in which dozens of former employees alleged a culture rife with sexual harassment and verbal abuse in his workplace. The issue was so bad the NFL’s investigation was delivered orally so that there would be no evidence to leak or burn, outside of a damning series of articles in The Washington Post. Snyder was put on “leave” and fined $10 million. He gave a cozy interview in which he was able to pretend he was never there, so that none of the surprising-to-Snyder allegations were his fault. It was the rich person’s equivalent of in-school suspension.
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After that, largely silence out of Washington. A rebrand. A new mascot. A quarterback change. Scattered reports and denials of whether Snyder was actually back in the owner’s chair. Nothing akin to the swiftness with which we saw the NFL hoist Jerry Richardson on its shoulders and chuck him overboard, forcing the former Panthers owner to sell his club—at a generous profit—after Sports Illustrated reported allegations of sexual harassment and misconduct, and use of a racial slur.
Richardson’s ouster seems more like a momentary blip of morality from the league with each passing day. In the immediate aftermath of Deshaun Watson’s signing in Cleveland, following the bizarre circumstances with which Antonio Brown was dismissed by the Buccaneers, and now with Snyder, the league—both member clubs and the governing body—is again showing a pattern of concern only relating to the almighty dollar and not for the ravaged path of affected individuals littered throughout.
Brown was signed by the Bucs despite an active civil suit alleging rape and sexual harassment (which has since been settled). He was signed following a Sports Illustrated investigation that detailed Brown’s mercurial behavior and a follow-up piece that red-flagged Brown’s text message threats to one of the women who came forward. He was cut when his conduct embarrassed a team on the field, after Brown chucked his clothes into the stands and performed some on-field calisthenics during a live game. Bottom line 1, actual victim 0.
The Browns signed Watson to a record-breaking, fully guaranteed contract amid active civil suits from 22 women alleging sexual assault or harassent. The team gave a press conference so drenched in protective legalese that it required a Harvard law degree to understand the finer points. Owners at the most recent NFL meetings were upset about the contract, not because it was handed to Watson and the troubling optics, but because it guaranteed too much money and will set a bad precedent, forcing them to slop a few more million in escrow for their own franchise passers. Bottom line 2, actual victim 0.
And now we have some positing the end of Snyder for allegedly pocketing some of the ticket revenue that goes into a group account for all visiting clubs (which, again, the Commanders have denied). Spend some time watching the congressional testimony of some of Snyders’ and Washington’s accusers and tell us how silly it feels in comparison to complain seriously about some rich guy essentially yanking some coin out of the take-a-penny tray. The NFL had its chance to do something meaningful about Snyder months ago and instead chose to let the hard evidence disappear the moment it left the chief investigator’s mouth.
If Washington ever ends up changing owners, it must be done with transparency and deference to those who suffered there for years, even decades. It cannot be another situation where money takes precedence over the value of human life and experience. The NFL and its member clubs’ patterns of ignoring, denying and contorting until some kind of corresponding action is forced upon them through a tidal wave of public outrage or congressional strength cannot be good for business. It cannot feel morally satisfying in any way. It cannot be conducive to the family atmosphere they often brag about in commercials aimed at selling us light-up camouflage Christmas hoodies, which, through some kind of handshake deal, we probably already paid for anyway via our taxes.
“I wish I didn’t have to be here sharing personal and intimate details about my life,” said Rachel Engleston, a former employee of Snyder’s, in front of a congressional roundtable. “Details that are public and easily searched on the internet. I wish I didn’t have to resort to speaking to The Washington Post for there to be any sort of investigation into the team. I wish when I reported my experiences to the team and to the NFL that there would have been change and accountability.”
On her Twitter page, Engleston talks about warning her family about hush money and private investigators snooping into her background. She talks about fear and intimidation. But tell us more about those accounting irregularities. Some truly horrifying stuff, no?
