I'm not Native American. So maybe I'm incapable of grasping the outrage over the symbol of University of Illinois athletics, Chief Illiniwek, whose halftime performances have long inspired such goose-bumped pride among so many students and alumni.
Maybe I'm too ugly American to appreciate the depth of resentment among the Peoria tribe. They're all that's left of the Algonquin confederation for which the state is named. The Peorias narrowly voted last April to request the school cease using the mascot and his dance.
Maybe I'm too much of a middle-aged white sports columnist to comprehend why faculty members are threatening to inform potential athletic recruits that Illinois continues parading out a racial stereotype. Maybe the insensitive redneck in me makes me think these professors are motivated by the jealous nerd in them.
They can't stand it that the school's coaches make five or 10 times more than they do and that U of I becomes better known for athletic teams than academic departments. They crave the publicity that comes from driving an unstoppable politically correct bandwagon spilling over with knee-jerk liberals. So now they're trying to make a name off their basketball team's climb to national prominence.
But that's probably the Okie in me talking. That's also what makes me view Chief Illiniwek as a symbol of everything I grew up idolizing about the Native American culture. Like Illinois coach Bill Self, I was born and raised in Oklahoma. In a small-world coincidence, Self was born where my father is buried, Okmulgee.
Okmulgee is the capital of the Creek Nation, one of the Five Civilized Tribes forced to leave their native land and follow the Trail of Tears to "Indian Territory," Oklahoma. About 20,000 Creeks were uprooted from Alabama. Roughly one-third died along the way.
What happened to Native Americans from sea to shining sea was nothing short of a holocaust. They were robbed and slaughtered by the white man, and what was left of many tribes was forced into Oklahoma, where their land continued to shrink. This was the fate of the Peorias.
What a small, strange world. Oklahoman Self now has a chance to win a national championship with a team built around players from a town called Peoria.
But as a kid, as much I wanted to be Mickey Mantle or Johnny Bench, I wanted to be an Apache or Comanche brave. Not because I felt guilt about what my people had done to the Indians or because I viewed them through the Hollywood lens as "noble savages." No, I considered them courageous, athletic and spiritual at one with the land for which they fought. They were conquered because they were finally outnumbered.
This was the spirit in which former Illinois football coach Bob Zuppke named the mascot Illiniwek, which roughly translates "they are men." Using Illiniwek as its athletic symbol is the highest honor Illinois could pay the Native Americans for which the state is named.
Do Native Americans really want every team nickname changed that harks back to their roots? They don't want their ancestors remembered in any high-profile way?
They say refusing their request will make them feel even more inferior and unimportant. If so this state needs a new name.
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