— Harry Belafonte waxing metaphoric in 2016 on the outrage over Colin Kaepernick’s decision to not stand during the national anthem, in protest: “To mute the slave has always been in the best interest of slave owners.”

— “Sports on the plantation were used as diversions to dull the revolutionary instinct.” William C. Rhoden, author Forty Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Black Athlete.

There couldn’t be a better time than the present for a Hollywood studio executive, or intrepid indie film producer, to option the rights (if it hasn’t happened already) to William C. Rhoden’s 2007 best-seller, Forty Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Black Athlete.

It’s not a work of fiction, so assuming a fictional scripted account based on the book is the goal, it would require some imagination.

In short, New York Times sports columnist Rhoden offers a provocative, loaded assessment of the state of black athletes in America, using the cutting metaphor of the plantation to describe a present-day sports industry that’s essentially defined by white ownership and black labor.

It’s official synopsis reads:

From Jackie Robinson to Muhammad Ali and Arthur Ashe, African American athletes have been at the center of modern culture, their on-the-field heroics admired and stratospheric earnings envied. But for all their money, fame, and achievement, black athletes still find themselves on the periphery of true power in the multibillion-dollar industry their talent built. Provocative and controversial, $40 Million Slaves weaves a compelling narrative of black athletes in the United States, from the plantation to their beginnings in nineteenth-century boxing rings to the history-making accomplishments of notable figures such as Jesse Owens, Althea Gibson, and Willie Mays. Rhoden reveals that black athletes’ “evolution” has merely been a journey from literal plantations—where sports were introduced as diversions to quell revolutionary stirrings—to today’s figurative ones, in the form of collegiate and professional sports programs. He details the “conveyor belt” that brings kids from inner cities and small towns to big-time programs, where they’re cut off from their roots and exploited by team owners, sports agents, and the media. He also sets his sights on athletes like Michael Jordan, who he says have abdicated their responsibility to the community with an apathy that borders on treason. The power black athletes have today is as limited as when masters forced their slaves to race and fight. The primary difference is, today’s shackles are often the athletes’ own making.

The title and the notion behind it are certainly attention-getters, and I’m sure Rhoden was fully aware of that when he came up with the idea. In fact, he even admitted that his original title – the symbolic Lost Tribe Wandering – lacked punch. And Rhoden certainly doesn’t pull any punches here. Rather than relating the all-too-familiar rags-to-riches stories in which underprivileged black athletes reach the so-called “Promised Land” by way of their athletic ability, he paints the system as one in which those athletes are isolated from their backgrounds, used to maximize profit and instilled with a mindset “whereby money does not necessarily alter one’s status as ‘slave,’ as long as the ‘owner’ is the one who controls the rules that allow that money to be made.”

The content isn’t anywhere near as inflammatory as the book’s title, conceding the author’s argument that successful black athletes can earn many millions dollars for their talents and hard work, while (in general) are still indeed being exploited by a system that’s run mostly by and primarily for the benefit of whites. And whether or not you fully agree with his thesis, Rhoden does make very compelling and supported, if controversial arguments, providing an insightful, not often considered look at the role black athletes play in sports that they dominate, but really have no control within or over, while also creating the illusion that black Americans as a whole are doing much better than maybe research, surveys and statistics may otherwiese indicate.

The book is also a call to arms on how to turn the accumulated wealth and influence of black athletes in sports into real power; as Rhoden argues, until black athletes recognize their power to actually bring about change for themselves and the larger black community, they will continue to simply be well-paid slaves essentially.

“In their failure to heed the lessons of history, today’s black athletes are squandering the best opportunities yet for acquiring real power in the sports industry.” Rhoden.

Ten years since its publication, the pessimistic Rhoden would certainly recognize and applaud the leadership Kaepernick has taken (and those who have been inspired and followed) that’s led to national controversy and conversation.

Providing an easy-to-follow historical account of the progression of black athletes in sports, the heroes of Rhoden’s book are the black people who continue to stand up to white supremacy, especially when it comes at great personal cost (again, a nod to Kaepernick here, who has effectively been blacklisted from the NFL and become a kind of social pariah in certain circles, but something of a messiah in others). The author heaps praise on early popular 20th century black athletes like Jack Johnson, to mid-centurians like baseball player Curt Flood, who became a pivotal sports labor history figure when he refused to accept a trade following the 1969 season, ultimately taking his case to the U.S. Supreme Court, which, though unsuccessful, led to solidarity among other players (similar to the kind Rhoden calls for), as they fought against baseball’s reserve clause and sought free agency. The book also calls attention to the lesser-known contributions of 1920s founder of the Negro National League Rube Foster, and others. Flood became one of the pivotal figures in the sport’s labor history when he refused to accept a trade following the 1969 season, ultimately appealing his case to the U.S. Supreme Court. Although his legal challenge was unsuccessful, it brought about additional solidarity among players as they fought against baseball’s reserve clause and sought free agency.For Rhoden, the problem, again, is one of collective action, and as he sees it, only those willing to incur personal costs will actually inspire conversation that leads to lasting change. This will include black athletes – and beyond – taking a stand and speaking out, as well as pursuing ownership. As Rhoden sees it, it is only when the black talent/white ownership/profit dynamic is broken that the “$40 million slave” narrative will no longer be one.

A key criticism of the book is that it devotes just one chapter to the presence and contributions of black women athletes. Rhoden does acknowledge this, but that doesn’t excuse it. There was track and field Olympian Wilma Rudolph whose actions led to her hometown’s celebratory parade becoming integrated; also noteworthy is track and field Olympian Wyomia Tyus who took a stand and worked towards racial equality, equal pay and opportunities for women athletes. The legacies of black women athletes like Olympian Earlene Brown, Erosenna Robinson and others, all deserve equal recognition and praise.

That said, Forty Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Black Athlete is a book that should be required reading not just for black athletes, but could also serve as a supplemental historical text to what typically isn’t taught about the history of black people in these United States. A far-reaching analysis of the role of the black (primarily) male athlete in the emergence of the sports-as-entertainment industrial complex, as well as a critique of assimilationist attitudes (Rhoden argues that the black community as a whole didn’t actually benefit from integration in sports, which he believes instead robbed black communities of potential), the book identifies and challenges a racist power structure that sustains the multi-billion-dollar business of sports in the US (according to Forbes magazine, the sports market in the US was worth $60.5 billion in 2014, and is expected to reach $73.5 billion by 2019.).

In sum, author Rhoden breaks down how a combination of extreme capitalism and racism in American sports industry have long fueled “mining” of black men’s bodies as its “natural resource” to buy, own, and profit from, and what black athletes must do collectively to reverse, and ultimately end that trend.

It’s worth a read, so pick up a copy and read it for yourself. It’s part memoir, part history, part journalism as Rhoden builds a historical framework that accounts for the varieties of the black athletic experience in the past, and applies them through today (2007), acknowledging the innate racism within American society, and the racial hierarchy of *real* power.

Somebody (or some people) with the necessary resources should consider acquiring rights to, and adapting the book to film, or as a TV series.

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Forty Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise

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