About ten years ago, one of the weirdest episodes in NBA history took place with the Los Angeles Clippers, one of the most famously dysfunctional franchises in American sports history: Clippers owner Don Sterling's “assistant” (whom he doted on, gave fancy cars, and had a bizarre relationship) secretly recorded him making bigoted remarks about black people. Naturally, it caused a lot of hoopla — and Sterling ran such an incompetent PR crisis campaign that it hastened his demise. (My favorite moment: Sterling trying to convince Anderson Cooper how we dudes get jealous of women.)
Most everyone was thrilled when the rich, rude bigot was bounced from basketball, but there was always an uncomfortable undercurrent rippling beneath the surface: At the time, Sterling was in his 80s, and there was some evidence that he was in mental decline. At one point in his interview with Cooper, he actually said, “I’m an 80-year-old man that’s kind of foolish.”
Make no mistake, Sterling’s words and views were abhorrent. But if we’re going to hold him accountable for his intent, then his state of mind doesn’t just matter — it matters greatly. In fact, it ought to be the single most important consideration.
A sports team is an asset: It’s something you can own, buy and sell.
That makes it a possession.
And in this light, secretly recording an old man — who may (or may not) have lost his marbles — to goad him into making controversial statements and then use these statements to confiscate his team, is pretty close to elder abuse.
Our population is aging, as are the Baby Boomers. The generation that used to play kick-the-can is now kicking the bucket. From News Corp to Berkshire Hathaway, men north of 80 own or operate some of the world’s largest, most influential companies.
As a society, we haven’t yet developed a viable process for balancing the property rights of the elderly against the rights of their employees, partners, or shareholders. Sometimes, it’s necessary to intervene. But it’s almost always a messy, destructive affair, replete with ugly allegations and embarrassing revelations. Ultimately, when an older person is accused of dementia, it usually comes down to a third party’s assessment.
But what happens when that third party has skin in the game?
Years from now, historians will speculate about how Joe Biden went from winning the Democratic nomination in a landslide and just being a few points away from Donald Trump to dropping out of the race completely, handing his keys over to Kamala Harris, and having to make his retirement speech after midnight.
Biden traded everything… for nothing.
Two observations: First, it’s a chilling window to the Biden administration’s brain-dead approach to negotiations. “The Art of the Deal” it ain’t. (And suddenly, I think I know why the Israel-Hamas negotiations never go anywhere.) Whatever competent is, this isn’t it.
And two, there was very clearly a coup against a sitting United States president. His own party weaponized his age against him, beat him with it, and forced him out of the race. We probably won’t learn the full story until Biden passes away, but it’ll go down in history as one of the most undemocratic moments in American politics: The legislative branch forced out the leader of the executive branch. The cultural fallout won’t be evident right away, but it’ll be significant.
It moves us closer to a parliamentary-style system.
You can make a legitimate argument that if you’re so feeble-minded and mentally inept that legislators can strongarm you, then it’s time to go anyway. That’s fair.
But Biden hasn’t gone away. He still has his finger on The Button.
And if he gets that call at 3 a.m. and must make an immediate decision, the same man who traded the presidency for a bag of beans will be making life-and-death decisions for 333 million of us.
Sleep tight, America.
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