I guess this is growing up

A few weeks ago, an NFL commentator I follow on twitter posted this:

To which I replied:

"One of the most important lessons of growing up."

She'd posted the original tweet after the Feb. 1 announcement about Brian Flores' lawsuit against the NFL, alleging racism and overt attempts to circumvent the league's "Rooney Rule" for minority hiring. It could have just as easily applied to the Olympics, which kicked off three days later in Beijing, despite China's ongoing genocide against Uyghur Muslims and its silencing of a tennis player who accused a high-ranking Chinese official of sexual assault.

And it's applied to us Capitals fans for the past two weeks, since Russia invaded Ukraine. Our star and savior, Alex Ovechkin, has long been a public supporter of Vladimir Putin; even his Instagram icon is a photo of the two together. We've known about this relationship for at least a decade. Somehow, we've always been able to compartmentalize it.

"Yeah, but ... look at all the good things he's done for the DMV."

"Yeah but ... he won us a Stanley Cup."

"Yeah but ... look at his adorable kids."
... we loved the swimming in the Georgetown fountains bit."
... he's one of the greatest hockey players of all time."
... he's ours."

What about his close association with one of the world's most ruthless dictators, who has ordered his enemies jailed, poisoned, and murdered? Eh, it's all ... over there. And besides, it's not like Ovi is directly involved in any of that, right?

Everything/everyone we love is problematic, to some degree.

How do we reconcile that? Where is the line between what's an acceptable flaw and what's not? How do we, as individuals, normalize objectively terrible things in the interest of personal comfort, entertainment, or even love?

This is a truth we're shielded from as kids. We're fed scenarios that are largely dichotomous: 100% good or 100% evil. Cinderella good, stepsisters bad. Daniel-san good, Johnny bad. Republicans good, Democrats bad (and vice versa). There's no guidance on how to deal with the shades of gray that permeate our world.

We're not taught how to sit with and consider the uncomfortable truth that two seemingly opposite things can be true at the same time. We're not taught that it's OK to feel undecided about something for a while ... or, maybe, forever. We have to pick a side, to put a person or a thing wholly in the good column, or banished to the bad column. And we have to do it fast.

When you realize that the things you grew up loving were never fully good or fully bad—you were just taught to believe that was the case—it's kind of like learning that Santa Claus isn't real. It's a rite of passage; you're becoming a grown-up. It's not a particularly welcome revelation. Everything feels easier when people and things fit into categories that we agree on. The world feels manageable and safe. We can see the path. We understand the rules.

When we learn that we have to make choices and value judgments on our own—and that our internal sliding scale may be different from and therefore harshly judged by others—the world feels more intimidating. Less predictable. Less good.

So how do we work through this new knowledge? How do we reassess our fandom, our patronage, our behaviors when we realize that everything/everyone we love is problematic, to some degree?

Sometimes, people double down on that thing or person they love and become hostile toward anyone who brings up that thing or person's flaw. You can see this happening now in England, where Chelsea Football Club is being sold because its owner, Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich, is being sanctioned by the UK government for enabling and sustaining Putin's rule. A vocal contingent of fans and former players who have ignored Abramovich's Putin ties in exchange for two successful decades and dozens of trophies now chant his name in stadiums and attack anyone who disagrees.

Other times, people completely sever ties with that thing or person, putting both the good and bad aspects of them out of sight and out of mind. I've basically taken this approach when it comes to anything associated with the Washington football franchise, at least as long as Daniel Snyder owns it. It can be a painful decision, especially if it's something you care deeply about. But it can also be as much of an easy way out as doubling down is. You're still not examining why, for a time, you overlooked that person or thing's moral or ethical shortcomings.

A lot of us muddle through these circumstances, finding ourselves perched on the fence. We don't know what we think. We try to separate the art from the artist. We attempt to balance the demonstrated harm against the value we've placed upon the person or thing. You might call this moral ambiguity or ethical gymnastics, and maybe it is. But it's a thought process that adulthood demands of us. Almost nothing in life is completely good or completely bad—no matter what our fairy tales or our parents may have taught us.

So, back to the core impetus for this post: What are my feelings now, today, about Alex Ovechkin? They've changed a lot in the past two weeks. I've thought a lot about why it was so easy for me to separate his relationship with Putin from his Capitals avatar. I've thought about what that says about me and how I will approach something like this in the future.

The indisputable fact remains that he's an otherworldly hockey player. It's been quite a ride, seeing him grow from a gangly teenager into a father and a leader, all while representing my hometown hockey team. It's been a thrill to follow his quest to chase down Wayne Gretzky as the NHL's leading scorer, knowing that if he does it, he'll do it as a Cap.

But I also can't pretend that it's a pure pursuit, like I did so willingly during the Stanley Cup run. His generic, vanilla comment after Putin's invasion of Ukraine spoke disappointing volumes. You can argue that he's got his hands tied with his family in Russia while he's still in the U.S. finishing the NHL season. But we know what we know about his relationship with Putin. We can comfortably bet that his comment was intended more to mollify criticism here in the U.S. than to protect his interests in Russia. As a fan, that doesn't feel great.

Will I will continue to watch and follow the Gr8 Chase? Yes, I will. When he finally passes Gretzky, will I smile? Yes, I will. But that'll be it. There won't be cheers. There won't be pride.

And that really fucking sucks.