November 5, 2009
Toward the end of his 26.2-mile journey through New York, Meb Keflezighi found the energy to point to the red letters on his singlet: USA.
He tapped his chest with pride, aware of the significance of his victory. As he crossed the finish line he became the first American since 1982 to win the New York City Marathon.
But the celebration of his 2:09:15 achievement, which is another step forward for American distance running, has been marred by the curious reaction of some of his fellow Americans who say he is not truly American. Not American enough.
Are these the rants of a vocal minority who get kicks by sending cowardly Internet messages? I suspect it's more than a fringe element. For this isn't just an argument about nationality but race. Those two things -- country and color -- make people hot and bothered. We may have elected a black president yet racism still thrives in a country that went to war to preserve slavery.
For those who assess their fellow human beings by the color of their skin and not the content of their character, sport is racial theater. Most of the time, sport affords us a vision of a postracial society as athletes from different backgrounds compete together and fans cheer their favorite team, no matter the composition. We also know it isn't quite that idyllic and clean.
So, many people did not choose to see Keflezighi's USA uniform. They chose to see that he was black. They emphasized that he was born in Eritrea. To them, he wasn't the first American to win in 27 years. He was really another in a long line of African runners who have dominated distance running since usurping the Americans.
``Ah, yes, Meb Keflezighi; as American as apple kzgrxts!'' wrote a a New York Times reader on Keflezighi and stereotyping.
It's a shame, because not only did Keflezighi beat the Kenyan favorites to give the U.S. a breakthrough, but he gave us an inspiring only-in-America story. As a boy, he lived in a village with no electricity, one where kids were conscripted to fight in the war against Ethiopia. His father got the family out, first to Italy and then to California. Keflezighi (pronounced Ka-FLEZ-ghee) was 12 when he moved to San Diego on Oct. 27, 1987. Today he is 34.
He started running in middle school, starred for San Diego High School, worked at McDonald's, got straight As and a scholarship to UCLA, where he won four NCAA titles and earned his degree. Among his 10 siblings educated in the United States, there's an electrical engineer, physician, lawyer, economics major at Stanford and freshman at Cal-Berkeley.
``USA gave me all the opportunities -- education, sports, lifestyle,'' said Keflezighi, who became a U.S. citizen in 1998. ``When you dream, you dream. You don't give up.''
In 2004, in Athens, Keflezighi became the first American man to win an Olympic marathon medal (silver) since Frank Shorter won silver in 1976. Even then, plenty of Americans were hesitant to accept him. The sentiment was, ``Yeah, but he's really African, and those guys are born with running genes.''
That perception persists despite the fact that no studies on East African runners have concluded they possess a biological advantage. They may have sociological advantages: Running miles to and from school at altitude, with little access to junk food and video games, aspiring to emulate their running idols.
Another New York Times reader who didn't think of Keflezighi's win as a ``legitimate American victory'' identified him or herself as a 35-year-old Hispanic whose parents were born in other countries and posted these comments:
``But I don't think people who feel this way are being racist. If some black guy born and raised in the Bronx had won, everyone would be cheering and you would not get this backlash. I think we are all of the belief that there's something in the water over there in East Africa and until an American -- forgive me, a `real/normal' American -- can break through, we won't be able to truly claim these transplanted American victories as our own.''
The last American to win in New York 27 years ago was Alberto Salazar. He was born in Cuba, moved to Miami at age 2 and grew up running in Boston.
``What if Meb's parents had moved here two days before he was born or two days after?'' Salazar said. ``He's as American as anybody else in this country. Here we are clamoring for an American to win and when one does, people still see the glass as half empty.''
Look at the names of the other five Americans who finished in the top 10 (the most since 1979): Ryan Hall, Jorge Torres, Nick Arciniaga, Abdi Abdiraham, Jason Lehmkuhle. Depending on how far back you want to trace their heritage, they came from somewhere else, like most Americans. Had an American with a European or Hispanic surname or lighter skin won, would his American-ness have been called into question?
``Part of this is straightforward disappointment in the job Americans have done in developing elite distance runners who were willing to adopt a demanding way of life,'' said John Hoberman, University of Texas professor and author of
Darwin's Athletes: How Sport Has Damaged Black America and Preserved the Myth of Race. ``And part of it is our habit of setting up a racial hierarchy. We're doing the 21st Century version. It's not going to stop in our lifetime.''
As proof, there was this post by a Times reader disagreeing with another reader who said Keflezighi's citizenship was 100 percent American but his athletic genes were 100 percent Ethiopian:
``And your genes are? Huh? Why are you breaking it down into ethnicity? Unless you are Native American [100 percent, mind you] your genes are not `American.' ''
Country and color. Those preoccupations make something as simple as victory very complicated.
