The NFL should have appealed Deshaun Watson’s suspension. Every argument to keep Judge Sue L. Robinson’s six-game suspension intact — arguments for respecting the new collectively bargained disciplinary process, preserving labor peace, the idea that the NFL can outsource a complex situation to a neutral party and wash its hands of the decision – was overpowered by the obvious fact that Watson shouldn’t be playing football in October.
Watson, the 26-year-old quarterback for the Cleveland Browns, was investigated by the NFL after he was named in three lawsuits alleging sexual misconduct (that number would eventually grow to 24) by women he hired as massage therapists. Some of those lawsuits say Watson ejaculated on women without their consent; some say he touched women with his penis without consent; two say Watson orally penetrates women without their consent. All but one of these cases have been settled out of court.
Robinson heard the experiences of just four women during the hearing, which began in June, but concluded that Watson had an “insensitive” pattern of behaviour. And after announcing its decision Monday, the NFL had three days to appeal. He did so on Wednesday and, according to a source, is seeking an indefinite suspension of at least a year. There will be no further formal debate — the league’s governing board has filed the appeal, and commissioner Roger Goodell or a designee will make the decision. It’s tempting to imagine Goodell in some sort of off-Broadway one-man show, presenting the case to himself, then donning a vintage judge’s wig to make the decision. It’s not that far off, though Goodell would probably be wise to appoint someone else in the league office to make the final decision.
The NFL is in a mess right now. But really, it already was. This case involves perhaps a record number of people and franchises in the league reeling from a scandal: the Browns, Texas, the double-digit teams who desperately wanted to be in the Browns’ shoes, even knowing the possible consequences. It’s become a story about power, about what teams will do to sell out for a franchise quarterback, and about the optics of a league obsessed with them. And for the NFL, there was only one way out. The league knew there was going to be a backlash against something, and decided Wednesday that it would rather have people angry at the process than angry at the sloppy punishment.
If the indefinite suspension goes through, there’s only one way for it to end: The NFL Players Association will sue, and it will end up in federal court. The NFL will eventually get its way, however long it takes. Jenny Vrentas of the New York Times pointed out Wednesday that the CBA says the NFL’s decision is “full, final and complete.” She cited a labor law expert who said that because of that clause, whatever the NFL claws back would be protected from legal overturning. The NFLPA may buy time or goodwill from its members by pulling this off, but the new CBA signed in 2020 is just like the old ones: The NFL has an iron tongue in its corner that will give it the “win” because in Deflategate and other cases that have gone to court. A handful of Browns fans and generally anti-NFL pundits floated ideas for massive lawsuits that would turn the league upside down and embarrass the owners. None of this works like that. In the end, the result is the same.
The idea that the NFL would not use its full power in such an extreme case has always been wrong. Goodell took on his role as “The Enforcer” — so named from a 2012 Time magazine cover — to have a broad say in player discipline. That level of power came after a series of off-field scandals early in his tenure and changes to personal conduct policies that allowed Goodell to impose heavy penalties. In subsequent CBA negotiations, the union tried to negotiate less power for Goodell. “It was aggressively resisted,” the union’s outside counsel, Jeffrey Kessler, told me a few years ago. “Honestly, they didn’t want to consider anything.” That dynamic has changed slightly since the 2020 CBA — a former judge like Robinson will now hear cases. But the bottom line isn’t: The NFL can still get the result it wants when it really wants it.
I believe the Ray Rice saga of 2014 informs almost everything about modern NFL star penalties. In July, Goodell suspended Rice for two games for hitting his then-fiancée Janay in an elevator in Atlantic City. At the time, Goodell said, “We have a very firm policy that domestic violence is not acceptable in the NFL, and there are consequences for that.” But when the video surfaced in September, the public backlash was so severe that the NFL suspended Rice indefinitely. He was eventually cut by the Ravens and never played in the league again. I’ve seen this story up close, attending multiple Goodell press conferences this month. I think that was the only time the national media discussed whether Goodell would keep his job.
What made the Rice case different from other domestic violence cases the league has dealt with wasn’t just Rice’s video, but the pressure from the media, which rarely covers the NFL. Not just the biggest newspapers in the United States, but the network morning shows, the national evening news. It’s the NFL’s job to stay away from these shows for negative reasons, and Goodell and his disciplinary gaffe led the A-block.
The danger of a short suspension for Watson is therefore twofold: first, the media scrutiny, should he return in mid-October, will be intense. The NFL can handle it. But the second and biggest problem with the shortstop is that the Watson saga is still ongoing. It hasn’t even been two months since Vrentas’ latest bombshell report: that Watson met with at least 66 women for massages over a 17-month period, and that the Houston Texans helped facilitate the encounters and even provided Watson non-disclosure agreements. One case is still active. From a perspective — and a lot of it is optics — it’s bad for the league that Watson is playing in October. But even worse, the depth and scope of the story means there could be more reporting to come, more shoes to drop. External investigations are not going away. The women involved in these cases won’t go away just because Watson can get back on the field.
The NFL had to appeal for a number of reasons: First, Robinson’s report lambasted Watson’s conduct, but clarified that the six-game suspension was based on her belief that the NFL cannot make wholesale changes to the lengths of its suspensions without prior notice to players. The ruling came from an extremely narrow interpretation of the CBA, while the NFL, on the other hand, has a long history of changing rules quickly and without much warning. There’s also the problem of Watson showing no remorse for his actions or admitting any wrongdoing — both factors cited to his detriment in the Robinson report. In fact, reporters on Wednesday said Watson’s camp still believes six games is too many.
If Watson’s suspension had stayed at six games, it would have preserved a broken system. Not just because it would mean virtually no personal-conduct violation can exceed six games, but because it would reward a franchise that went all-in on one of the most reckless moves in modern NFL history. It’s important to note here that a handful of teams would love to have Watson on their team, which is why the cost to trade him this spring was so high in picks and ultimately money. It was the Browns who guaranteed him a fifth year. The Browns were the team that, right after the grand jury declined to indict Watson, gave him more leverage and the biggest fully guaranteed deal in NFL history. Watson’s no-trade clause meant he could choose his destination, and Cleveland did everything they could to ensure that would be his choice.
On Monday and Tuesday, working under the belief that Watson would miss just six games, a handful of NFL teams were likely envious that the Browns would receive such a mild penalty as the franchise-altering quarterback acquisition tax. As cynical as the league is, it’s worse. A dozen NFL franchises would currently sign up for six games in exchange for Watson on their team. But a legal quagmire, a season-long saga, is an entirely different situation.
I’m not so excited about the Twitter posts you can set your watch on: the ones that point out that Calvin Ridley received a year-long suspension for multiple bets, or that players have previously been suspended for more than six games on NFL turf. Different ARPs and different policies mean different results. But the NFL is acutely aware of its optics — you don’t get to $11 billion a year in revenue without that awareness — and it knows that six games was a joke. Hell, the Browns probably know it. It was the NFL’s only move. It will bring up a process that it wishes had ended. But in the end, the only choice the league had was to take one backlash over another.
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