National Football League

Justice Isn't Easy. Someone Tell the NFL.

Published Sep. 16, 2014 1:58 a.m. ET

foxsports

Criminal justice is incredibly complicated.

I'm saying that, not simply because I'm one of the many who considered law school after graduation, did a little research on the workload and said, "nope, that's not for me." I'm also saying it because, all too often, I feel like it's an important point that's getting lost in the discussion about how the NFL is handling a truly awful stretch of player misconduct and botched responses. Maintaining an effective, and transparent, and above all else fair system of punishment is an extraordinarily difficult task, and if you need a reminder of that, all you have to do is look at the myriad ways in which our country manages to foul it up.

Every time we read about an innocent man who may have been executed, police presence that is anything but color blind, and a prison system that gets more bloated and corrupt by the day, we are reminded of the fact that our system is falling well short of what it is supposed to do: prevent and discourage crime, and rehabilitate those who commit it. The United States, a country of approximately 5% of the world's population, currently houses 25% of its prisoners. Are our citizens simply much more prone to serious crime than the rest of the developed world? Or are we perhaps too eager to use prison as a catch-all fix for problems that require more nuance to solve? It shouldn't take a J.D. to answer that question.

This brings us back to the NFL, which is learning, first hand, just how hard it is to handle its own system of crime and punishment. Of course we all believe, as Americans, in letting the criminal justice process play out before assuming guilt. But then, claiming that you're "waiting for all the relevant information" becomes harder to justify amidst very public video of a horrifying assault, or photos of troubling wounds on a four year old child. And just how much of the process should the league be waiting on? Is it, in the case of Greg Hardy, holding off until the Panthers' lineman has exhausted every appeal? Or is it enough that Hardy has, already, been convicted, and sentenced, following a 10-hour bench trial?

And while we're asking questions, how do you develop a truly fair scale of punishment when the only real weapon at your disposal is the ability to prevent a grown man from playing a game? Assaulting a woman, abusing a child, taking another human life by driving drunk; there is no fine, no suspension, that can plausibly be seen as sufficient for these offenses. Everyone agrees that two games was not enough of a punishment for Ray Rice. But a real case can be made that Rice could be banned from the game forever, and still not experience the pain, and humiliation that he inflicted on his girlfriend back in February. So how much punishment is appropriate? How much is excessive? And who, exactly, should make these determinations?

Commissioner Roger Goodell has become the public face of the NFL's disciplinary missteps.

Please make no mistake, I am not asking these questions to in any way excuse the NFL for their incredible stretch of inconsistent discipline, tone-deaf PR, and Keystone Cops style bungling of their investigation into Ray Rice. It is totally unacceptable if the NFL is misrepresenting when they first saw the video from inside that Atlantic City hotel. But then, it is just as unacceptable that said video caused any revision of discipline in the first place, if reports that Rice came clean to the league are true. The fact that it took moving pictures to wake the NFL up to the heinousness of his crime is a vicious message to victims of domestic violence: "The amount we care is directly proportional to the amount that we can see for ourselves."

Then there's the Vikings, who, as pointed out by Tom Ley, look fairly ridiculous for retracting their punishment of Peterson as more information about his abuse comes to light. And there's the Panthers, who, by deactivating Hardy after allowing him to play in Week 1, send the message that their own tolerance for assault depends on the level of media coverage and public outrage on any given week. It's impossible not to notice the extent to which public relations influences every decision the NFL, and its teams, make when it comes to player discipline. And perhaps that shouldn't come as a surprise. As noted quite thoughtfully by Aaron Gordon last month, PR and a desire to "protect the shield" is the fundamental reason the NFL constructed its personal conduct policy in the first place.

Just think about how absurd that now looks in retrospect. Back in 2007, the NFL's new, tougher rules for player discipline were going to help erase the stain of Pacman Jones, Tank Johnson, and a string of high profile arrests. But seven years later, it's not just the arrests that are creating a PR nightmare for the league, but the discipline that follows. The National Football League tried to convince itself, and us, that it was capable of cracking the whip, cleaning up, and administering its own brand of justice. When you trace back the causes of the mess that the league now finds itself in, you realize that the first mistake, made years ago, was believing that this was going to be easy. Sorry, but like it says at the start, dispensing justice is incredibly difficult. It's a job that I wouldn't want, and it's a job that right now, the league looks grossly unqualified for.

The NFL took what appears to be a positive step on Monday, moving Anna Isaacson into an expanded role, focused on social responsibility, and improving the league's sensitivity to sexual assault. Three other women have also been retained, as "senior advisors", to bolster the league's understanding and response to domestic violence. The hires are to be applauded, and I hope they are only the beginning, because violence against women is not the only area in which the league would benefit from welcoming outside voices, and becoming less insulated. In fact, the NFL would do well to put their entire system of discipline under the same scrutiny.

Loosen the reigns, take it out of the hands of a clearly overmatched commissioner, and instead, bring in the men and women qualified to tell the league what it can do better. Start from scratch, if need be, and rebuild the system from the ground up. Establish guidelines, flexible, but firm, that dictate the punishment for particular offenses. Create rules that govern the timeframe on which the league, and its individual teams, will make their disciplinary decisions. And set up a transparent appeals process, one that offers players a legitimate "second review" of their punishment, as opposed to another chance to make their case before the same decision makers.

It won't be easy, of course. But that's why it's so important to get it right. If the NFL truly wants to fix its reputation, and change the way it's being perceived, it has no choice. Dispensing justice is a tough business. But so is football. Time for the NFL to either get with the program, or get out of the way.