To say Riley Cooper effed-up is like qualifying Michael Vick's serial dog killings as misdemeanors.
Though there's not much that's sillier than white SportsCenter anchors asking black correspondents to opine on the Philadelphia Eagles WR, or white-white commentary, or even black talk show callers excusing Cooper simply because they're black and have authority to do so by default.
Cooper was drunk. He was on tape. And he figuratively boasted he could kick the assets of a black bouncer he characterized with a hateful word with roots stretching as far back as the whips used on the backs of that security guard's ancestors.
Cooper became a household name faster than his quarterback did among Westminster breeders. Is he a racist? Maybe. Does it matter? Apparently. Has he apologized? Of course. Was he sincere? Sure. Will his Mea Cooper work? Time will tell. It is football after all, and the problem should solve itself both on the field and in the locker room.
We all know by now the forbidden word in America used by racists and hypocrites alike. If you don't want a problem, don't use it.
But unlike Jimmy the Greek, Al Campanis, Michael Richards and John Rocker, Cooper can still quell collateral consequences:
Catch touchdowns.
If recovered canine killer, Michael Vick, and countless steroid users have taught us anything, it's the fact that winning cures all. And it better.
If the Eagles struggle, Cooper won't have to worry about the consequences of being the NFL's Grand Wizard.
He'll just struggle to find work. Anywhere.
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