Media Diversity Worth a Question

As usual, the whole Nolan Richardson saga that played out over the past week focused too much on Nolan Richardson.

It’s always that way with him. Too much attention on the individual and his words, not enough about the larger issues he raises.

Maybe in that rant that ultimately led to the end of his stay as Arkansas’ basketball coach he had a valid point.

Maybe the media passed on it because it hits too close to home. The lack of diversity in the media is a serious problem, and one that’s almost always part of the story.

Did he have to remark on the racial composition of the reporters covering his team as a response to the criticism he faced?

There’s never a bad time or a good time for unpleasant facts.

Perhaps a black reporter or two on the beat would not have prevented the heat for this mediocre season, but it definitely would have kept him from saying this line at his news conference last Monday: “When I look at all of you people in this room, I see no one look like me, talk like me or act like me. Now, why don’t you recruit? Why don’t the editors recruit like I’m recruiting?”

To him, something felt unfair. An intrinsically American right is to be judged by a jury of your peers. That rarely happens when the media judge minorities.

A study released by the American Society of Newspaper Editors last April showed minorities made up 11.85% of the reporting staffs around the country.

And at no place does the white media world encounter black culture as frequently as the sports section, particularly when it comes to football and basketball.

Some things get lost in the filter. One person’s hot dog is another person’s performer with flavor. Highly paid athletes get criticized when they harp about a lack of “respect,” while in the entertainment pages highly paid Hollywood actors and directors are allowed to part ways over “creative differences” as a regular part of business.

Same principles, different code words.

In the case of Richardson’s Razorbacks, a bad season is a bad season. With his team’s 13-14 record, he wasn’t getting it done this season.

Maybe a few different voices would have given him more slack for all he brought to the school, including three trips to the Final Four and a national championship.

Maybe there would have been a better understanding of what he has to go through as the only African American coach at that Southern school, or the meaning behind his statements such as:

“My great-great-grandfather came over on the ship, not Nolan Richardson. I didn’t come over on that ship, so I expect to be treated a little bit different. Because I know for a fact that I do not play on the same level as the other coaches around this school play on. I know that. You know it. And people of my color know that. And that angers me.”

At the 2001 Final Four, there were perhaps a dozen or so African Americans among the hundreds of reporters sent to cover the event. The demographics were similar in 1994, when the room quickly tuned out Richardson’s complaints about a lack of respect as his team made its run to the championship.

Richardson expounded on his comments the next year. It wasn’t about him. It was about black coaches in general, and what they go through.

Being an African American with even half a conscience means understanding that nothing you accomplish exists in a vacuum. You always owe a debt to those who made the sacrifices to give you your opportunity, and you owe something to the generation that follows.

Richardson knows he won’t be held in the same regard as many of his white peers. But if he makes enough noise, maybe a coach like Ernie Kent will get his due.

Former Georgetown coach John Thompson noticed that as he kept winning and kept up his rhetoric, the number of black reporters sent to cover his team both locally and nationally increased. That was using his clout to make a difference in his sphere of influence. He was a basketball coach, not a civil rights leader, but he made an impact where he could.

Thompson didn’t like to be categorized and let anyone make assumptions about him. If anything, Thompson was tougher on the black writers such as myself, David Aldridge and Mike Freeman when we covered the Hoyas for the Washington Post.

But if Thompson caused editors to diversify their staffs, maybe the next outspoken African American coach wouldn’t have the “controversial” tag hung on him so quickly, or perhaps he would be described as something more than a good recruiter.

Here’s this African American writer’s take on the Richardson departure: Once he held that news conference, he had to go. He wrecked the working environment at Arkansas by alienating the administration, the fans and the media.

And I think he wanted to go. Maybe he got wind that some boosters were rounding up funds for a buyout. Or that the administration was collecting names for a replacement.

Richardson’s time came this year. Seventeen years and 16 postseason trips after he arrived. He was a great coach while he lasted. Perhaps his fellow Southeastern Conference school Kentucky would never hire an African American coach such as Tubby Smith if not for Richardson’s success at Arkansas.

I wonder if he had it tougher than we realize, that he had to deal with more behind-the-scenes battles than we’ll know.

I’ve read some tired columns that sarcastically lament poor Nolan Richardson and his $3-million buyout. These writers will never even have a chance of considering Richardson’s perspective. They’ll never write in a newsroom in which they’re the minority.

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J.A. Adande can be reached at: j.a.adande@latimes.com.