Shedeur Sanders Challenges the NFL’s Historic Problem With Black Men Who Shine Unapologetically
Shedeur Sanders fell to the 5th round—was it arrogance, or anti-Black bias still embedded in the NFL? His story might reveal more than you think
The NFL is full of legacy fans. Fathers, grandfathers, daughters, and grandmothers — the fandom has been passed down for generations. Yet, the legacy of the NFL has not always been favorable, especially to Black players.
History reveals a time in the not-too-distant past when Black NFL players were denied CTE payouts because of a practice known as “race-norming,” Which implemented race-based benchmarks to adjust cognitive test scores, effectively assuming Black individuals naturally had lower cognitive baseline functioning. That practice didn’t end until 2021, after players filed a lawsuit in 2020.
For decades, the NFL shied away from naming a Black quarterback under the assumption that Black men weren’t smart enough. Once these barriers were broken, the NFL still had one firm yet off-the-books expectation — humility. Although we would like to think those times have passed, Shedeur Sanders is living proof that the NFL still has a problem with race.
Sanders—once a celebrated college quarterback with a decorated career at Jackson State and Colorado—is facing persistent obstacles that go beyond the gridiron. His story illustrates how confidence and Black identity can become flashpoints for criticism and scrutiny in the NFL.
Despite elite stats and widely high draft projections, Sanders slid significantly—ultimately being selected in the fifth round (144th overall). Critics labeled him “arrogant” or “brash” following comments about being a “program changer,” which many teams viewed as overconfidence.
When outspoken Black athletes display similar confidence, they often face harsher judgment. Analysis across media and commentary spaces reveals a familiar narrative: Black confidence is frequently dismissed as attitude rather than leadership, a dynamic less often applied to white counterparts.
Commentators like Shannon Sharpe and Chad Johnson argue that unstable coaching decisions—such as benching Sanders amid a weak offensive line—have unfairly undermined him. Their critique went beyond on-field performance, pointing to broader structural issues within team management.
Off the field, Sanders organized relief efforts in Cleveland’s underserved Kinsman neighborhood—earning high praise for his hands-on generosity. Yet even this wasn’t universally embraced; some questioned motives, revealing how Black philanthropy is also sometimes met with suspicion.
These anti-Black sentiments are not new. Black quarterbacks have long navigated stereotypes, with their athleticism often being emphasized over their intelligence. The “dual-threat” label has frequently pigeonholed Black QBs as less cerebral and instead focused on their running ability. Decades of research underscore these persistent double standards.
Shedeur Sanders’ journey—his draft slide, media portrayal, team treatment, and polarized reception—reflects entrenched biases in the NFL’s culture. His confidence, rather than being celebrated, has become a liability in a system that still penalizes unapologetic Black men more harshly than their peers.
Yet, talent is always undeniable. The fight against racism is not new. Eventually, Sanders will find his QB1 home. When it does, keep an eye out for the disdain and regret.
