One was named the greatest football player to ever play at Purdue and is one of the faces of its athletics program. The other faces a sentence of life imprisonment for the second time and is currently in the midst of his second criminal trial. One has dedicated his post-football career to keeping kids in school; the other has not been out of the tabloids.
One has his bust in South Bend, Indiana as a member of the College Football Hall of Fame. The other has been enshrined in Canton, Ohio, at the Pro Football Hall of Fame game. One had 14 touchdowns in the 1968 season, the other made the end zone 21 times. They finished one-two in voting for the 1968 Heisman Trophy as the finest collegiate football players in the land, and both were first-round draft picks in the 1969 NFL draft.
You've heard of one of them, but not the other.
O.J. Simpson is the household name from the NFL draft class of 1969. He had a storied career as a running back for USC in college, and for the Buffalo Bills and San Francisco 49ers in the NFL. He won the 1968 Heisman Trophy, the 1973 NFL MVP award, and a host of honors with more acronyms than a dentist's business card. Of course, I wouldn't let him near a classroom of kindergarteners.
Leroy Keyes was the runner-up to "The Juice" in the 1968 Heisman Trophy contest, but he has fared decidedly better off the field in the decades since. After a standout career as a running back and defensive back at Purdue, Keyes played four years in the NFL. He spent the rest of his career working with kids, as a desegregation specialist for Philadelphia public schools, and as an assistant with the Purdue football team. While Simpson was in and out of the courtroom, Keyes helped keep students in the classroom.
And yet, O.J. is one of the most famous living athletes. His fame has grown from admiration for his on-field accomplishments to notoriety for his off-field antics. Keyes, on the other hand, has faded into relative obscurity simply because he's done the right thing.
The problem, however, does not lie in O.J. as much as it lies within us. Who do we know, who do we celebrate? Apparently, the "most successful" athlete in terms of on-field production and post-athletic-career notoriety is O.J. Not the good guy, but the famous guy.
The concept of fame is troubling, especially within the athletic arena. Not knowing anything about athletes as individuals, we thrust the greatest players onto a stage almost incomprehensible by ordinary people. We give them a voice most politicians can barely dream of and a following with a religious fervor. But who are these people? Should we really hold them as respected leaders? Are they who we want as role models for young kids?
It's unfair to blame the athletes themselves. Sure, they need to realize the depth of their actions and the enormous power they hold as role models. They need to understand that little kids at home aren't just watching their touchdowns or baskets, but their dates at the courthouse, too. But we can't expect every athlete to be Lance Armstrong.
There are mean crossing guards and bank tellers that cheat on their spouses. Some nurses lie on their tax returns, and I bet there are kindergarten teachers that use drugs. So why shouldn't some athletes do the same things?
The problem, instead, is who we as a society choose to place on the highest of pedestals. We should value college degrees over yardage, community service hours over three-pointers, and responsibility over wins. I'm as big a sports fan as anyone, but we have to be reminded from time to time of what is really important.
While he may not have lived up to his hype as the third pick in the '69 draft, Keyes is no failure like O.J. In a perverse twist, we know Keyes has done well in life precisely because we haven't heard of him.
It's easy to gauge athletic achievement and hard to measure success off of the field. We have any number of stats that tell us which athletes are the best and who are washouts. We can quantify wins and losses, yardage and points, tackles and goals. We can figure out what a successful game looks like. But there are no statistics that can show a successful life.
As O.J. endures another trial, his face will be plastered all over the news once again. Keyes, on the other hand, will go on living in relative obscurity.
Perhaps it's time we start glorifying athletes who are stars off the field, as well as on.