Deshaun Watson may be the happiest player in the NFL. He certainly is on track to become one the league’s wealthiest. The Cleveland Browns acquired the star quarterback from the Houston Texans and signed him to a five-year, $230 million deal, the most lucrative guaranteed contract in NFL history.
The Browns’ front office, coach Kevin Stefanski and the city’s “Dawg Pound” fans surely are just as gleeful. Watson may be the missing cog that puts the Browns on a Super Bowl-bound trajectory. “Cleveland, LETSSSS GOOO!!” Watson said on Instagram after he signed.
There’s a group, however, that isn’t as ecstatic as Watson and the Browns’ fan base — the 22 female massage therapists who have pending lawsuits against Watson alleging sexual misconduct. Several of the women went on to file criminal complaints against Watson, accusing him of a range of lewd actions that included exposing himself and sexual assault.
Watson didn’t suit up for a single game for the Texans last season, but he still got paid. Neither the Texans nor the league took any action against Watson, even as allegations of sexual misconduct against him snowballed. On March 11, a Harris County, Texas, grand jury opted against indicting Watson, which paved the way for the Browns to acquire the 26-year-old quarterback in a blockbuster trade. On Thursday, a second grand jury in Brazoria County, Texas, also declined to charge him.
By no means do those grand jury decisions let either the Browns or the NFL off the hook.
The Browns showed no interest at all in the plight of Watson’s alleged victims, instead opting to view the acquisition solely through the prism of football metrics, as in passer ratings, salary cap concerns and expendable draft picks.
As for the NFL, it doesn’t need a criminal case in order to discipline a player, or any other member of the NFL, for violating its personal conduct policy. That policy states that “even if your conduct does not result in a criminal conviction, if the league finds that you have engaged in conduct (prohibited by the policy), you will be subject to discipline.”
The league’s definition of prohibited conduct includes behavior that is “illegal, violent, dangerous or irresponsible.” Such behavior, the NFL’s personal conduct policy states, “puts innocent victims at risk, damages the reputation of others in the game, and undercuts public respect and support for the NFL.”
Unfortunately, every fan and league observer knows by now that what the league says it’s going to do and what it actually does are about as far apart as the Bears are from a Super Bowl appearance.
Look no further than the Cleveland Browns roster that Watson joins. On the team is running back Kareem Hunt, a talented player who in February 2018 was seen on a video shoving and kicking a woman at a hotel in Cleveland. He was on the Kansas City Chiefs at the time. Both the Chiefs and the NFL were made aware of the incident, but took no action against Hunt. It was only after surveillance video of the attack was publicized — nine months later — that the Chiefs released Hunt. The NFL finally suspended Hunt for eight games in March 2019 — more than a year after the attack. Like Watson, Hunt was not charged.
The league’s handling of Hunt reflects the rule rather than the exception. In 2014, standout Baltimore Ravens running back Ray Rice was on an elevator with his fiancee at an Atlantic City casino when, as a security video showed, he spit on her and punched her, knocking her unconscious. When the elevator reached the first floor, Rice dragged her through the doors and told casino security personnel he had no idea what happened.
Police reports were filed, which should have prompted the NFL to track down and view the video. But the league looked the other way, and handed Rice a slap-on-the-wrist two-game suspension. The Ravens kept him on the roster. It wasn’t until TMZ publicized the video seven months later that the Ravens cut ties with Rice, and the league suspended him indefinitely.
In Watson’s case, the NFL says it’s still investigating, even though the first police report laying out allegations against the quarterback emerged nearly a year ago. It appears that the league is sticking to its old playbook. Stall, wait for the outrage to subside, and get on with the business of raking in billions of dollars in TV revenue and ticket sales.
When the NFL and its teams look the other way, they become enablers to this kind of behavior. Playing in the NFL isn’t a right, it’s a privilege. And with that privilege comes the responsibility of treating others with respect and dignity. That responsibility doesn’t disappear simply because a player gets lavished with nine-figure contracts or leads the league in passing.
If the league actually places importance on “innocent victims,” as its policy states, it needs to prove it with actions. League officials have interviewed 10 of the plaintiffs suing Watson. If they haven’t done so already, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell and Browns management should also sit down with Watson’s victims to hear their stories. By doing so, they would realize that the game can’t just be about touchdowns and fat multiyear contracts. Maintaining integrity should be just as important — even more important.
The NFL lost sight of that a long time ago.
