We're all on the losing team, every one of us.

1983-2007

The sporting world is abuzz with word of the tragic death of one Sean Taylor, Free Safety for the Washington Redskins of the National Football League, shot dead in his home by an intruder. His number 21 can be seen on the helmet of every player in the league, in tribute to him. His teammates and coaches flew to Florida to be alongside his loved ones as they laid him to rest. His fans honoured his memory during their match on Sunday, carrying signs and placards, wearing replicas of his game jersey. Most importantly, his eighteen-month-old daughter will now grow up not knowing her father.

Lost in the fanfare are the thousands upon thousands of young men and women whose lives were cut short violently. There are no televised tributes to them; only footnotes in the newspaper. There will likely be no spotlight on the four youths involved in the death of Mr. Taylor, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty years old. Hell, they're still children. They are just as much victims as they are victimizers, but don't dare suggest this to a punitive-minded society. Had Sean Taylor not been fortunate enough to be selected to make his living in the National Football League - an opportunity granted to so few, despite so many who aim to get there - there would be no nation-wide sympathy for him, either; he would be just another Black face on our evening news broadcast passing through our collective conscious.

I don't mean to take anything away from this young man; I only wish to put it into perspective. Sean Taylor was a father, a partner, a son, a comrade, a friend. The nearly four thousand American soldiers killed in Iraq, they were also daughters and sons, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, friends. The nearly one million people killed in Iraq since the 2003 invasion and subsequent occupation, they were also daughters and sons, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, friends. The thousands of people murdered each year within America's borders, and scores of people who, neglected and abused, meet a premature end. Are these losses any less tragic because they were not famous? We're killing each other! This madness must stop! For us young adults, into what kind of world are we bringing our children? Must we repeat the same survival lessons because we cannot be bothered to change the conditions in which these dangers we face are fostered? How many people must we incarcerate until we figure out, for each one, three will take his place? How many more Sean Taylors, or Darrent Williams, or Jordan Manners, or Jane Crebas until we finally realize the solution we have tried for generations does not address the problem?

Or will we not sell enough newspapers without our martyrs? Or home security systems to keep the undesirables at bay? Or closed-circuit television and metal detectors for the high schools? Or guns and ammunition - or Guns and Ammo magazines - for that matter? I once came across a line used by a "conservative", calling the peace sign the "Footprint of the American Chicken", telling "liberals" to wake up to our "heavy-artillery reality". This gentleman (I presume this was written by a man) failed to realize the problems inherent in our "heavy-artillery reality", problems we "liberals" recognize and aim to eliminate by altering our reality, for, had it not been for this "heavy-artillery reality", Sean Taylor would still be with us, and his daughter would not have to learn, through her mother and his family and friends, who her father was.

This is for all who have lost a loved one before her/his time.