Kobe’s rape case finally exposes a little secret

August 2003


Part of me wants this space to be devoted to an open letter to Arby’s Corp., with a passionate plea to please end the “talking oven mitt” advertising campaign. It’s not working. End it soon, Arby’s. I will swear on piles of thin-sliced roast beef that this nonsense leads to fewer sales, not more.

But, alas, I suspect there are more important issues to be looked at than oven mitts without noses. The Kobe Bryant sexual assault case, for example.

And the dirty little secret no one seems to be talking about.

I tuned to a sports talk radio station soon after the charges were filed and heard a smattering of interesting opinions. There was a bundle of folks – OK, mostly guys – saying that we shouldn’t convict Kobe until more information comes in. Others saying that we need to know why the girl was going to his room (as if that mattered) and if she went to his room, she must have known what would happen. One person even used the term “gold digger” to describe the 19-year-old victim.

But no one was talking about the dirty little secret.

Since the day Bryant was charged, most media outlets have refrained from publishing the victim’s name, as is the norm. Some, however, have gotten rather specific in their efforts to avoid listing her identity, pointing out that she is a blonde who was a cheerleader in the small town, who lives in a cul-de-sac who is well-known from her singing voice … and lives in the white and yellow house next to the tall beech tree one mile west of the cattle guard. Now, I made that last part up, but those in the media who have justified their actions by saying, “We didn’t name her,” well, they should be spanked. Don’t these reporters have daughters?

One radio caller on a show I was listening to even said that he felt the case will likely be settled out of court – as many such high-profile athlete-in-trouble cases have been – and, he said, it looks like the girl “will now be set for life.” A sociologist type on the other end of the radio transmission suggested that it is more likely that she will be traumatized for life. Slam dunk for the sociologist.

Gold digger? Naïve? Had a motive in mind? Seeking an autograph or seeking something else? I don’t care.

I don’t care if she was after money. I don’t care if she was of evil intent. I don’t care if she understood fully what NBA players do in their rooms. I don’t care how she was dressed -- or undressed -- when Kobe opened the door. I don’t care if she blatantly asked for trouble (which I don’t believe, by the way).

I don’t care if all that’s true. It was still his fault. It’s always the man’s fault.

That’s the little secret that never seems to come out. It is always the male’s purgative to stop the sex act. Period. It is always the male’s decision to say “this far and no further.” It is always the responsibility of the male – some would say burden, some might say duty – to control the sex act. Always. Regardless of the time of day or night, regardless of dress or undress, or music in the background, or presence of alcohol or whether you work in the NBA or the AFL-CIO. Always. That’s part of being a man. It comes with the scratchy beard and deeper voice.

And don’t go telling me about some obscure case where handcuffs and 300-pound accomplices conducted a sexual assault where the male was not in charge. That’s about as rare as a lightning hitting a lottery winner. A left-handed one, to boot.

Mr. Bryant has labeled the incident “adultery,” which is true. But that softens the blow, makes it sound like an affair with an old friend. It wasn’t. This was a classic one-night stand. It wasn’t anything approaching a “relationship.” This was a stranger and a situation that screamed “End this. Now.” And he could have. Any male could have, and any man should have.

That’s the secret. Kobe had the physical ability and the responsibility to end it. He’s the one that extended the activity, not her. And he’s the one that should pay the price for the rest of his life. But he won’t. A 19-year-old desk clerk who lives in a quiet cul-de-sac will. Kobe may yet find a way around the assault charge; he may yet pass the legal test.

But he failed the manhood test.

And if you can convince me otherwise, I’ll buy you lunch. Anywhere but Arby’s.