The recently held NFL draft, which was held in Green Bay Wisconsin, turned out to be one of the weirdest drafts I have ever seen, and I have watched them for many years. It turned out to be a vigil for Shadeur Sanders, who was expected to be drafted in the first round but ultimately was drafted in the fifth round. 

There’s a bitter irony in watching Shadeur Sanders, who as I said, is a young man who was once projected as a potential No. 1 overall pick in the NFL Draft. He fell all the way to the 144th pick in the fifth round. For months, draft analysts marveled at his poise, arm talent, and football IQ. They compared his composure to the greats. They forecasted a franchise quarterback. And then — silence. Shrugs. Whispers. The drop. I was as surprised as anyone, and wondered what had happened.

The media world is still catching its breath, because it wasn’t about talent. It wasn’t about mechanics or production. No, what stained Shadeur’s draft stock was something more insidious, I believe, and it was his last name. Or more specifically, his father — Deion Sanders. And therein lies the problem.

I have watched and admired Deion Sanders for many years for his athletic skills, but what impressed me more about Deion was his commitment to being a good father to his children. He raised his children. They are respectful, manner able, smart, and yes, they are confident like their Dad, but most children are like their parents, and they are no different. 

But let’s call it what it is: Shadeur Sanders was blackballed. Not because of a character flaw. Not because of criminal behavior. Not even because of questionable performance. But because of the noise surrounding his father — one of the most electrifying athletes this country has ever produced, and now one of the most unapologetically visible and vocal college football coaches in America.

Deion Sanders, a Hall of Fame cornerback, two-sport pro athlete, and now head coach of the University of Colorado Buffaloes, has been unrelenting in his passion, his style, and yes — his fatherhood. He’s never shied away from defending his children, coaching them, promoting them. But somewhere along the line, that paternal commitment was twisted into arrogance, into overreach, into toxicity.

The NFL, for all its claims of being a meritocracy, has a long memory — and an even longer list of unspoken rules. Chief among them: stay in your place. Be grateful. Be quiet. And if you’re a Black man, especially a powerful, outspoken one? Be humble, or we’ll humble you.Deion didn’t play that game. And it appears his son paid the price.

The question isn’t whether Shadeur is capable. The question is why the system turned against him at the eleventh hour. Why did teams suddenly question his readiness, his intangibles, his leadership? Why did draft boards, once glowing with promise, suddenly go cold?

One answer being whispered in locker rooms and press boxes is that NFL owners and coaches resented Deion’s spotlight — his brashness, his branding, his refusal to kowtow. And perhaps, they feared bringing that same energy into their quarterback room, even if it came only through association.

If that’s true, then this isn’t just about Shadeur. It’s about how America still struggles with the image of a strong Black father — one who dares to believe in his child so publicly, so vocally, and so fiercely that it unsettles the old guard.

Deion Sanders didn’t commit a crime. His only “sin” was being involved. Present. Loud in his love. He didn’t hide in the shadows or play by the unspoken rules. He stood on the sidelines in designer sunglasses, cheering on his sons, coaching with swagger, speaking his truth. And for that, it seems, the league punished his child.

This should haunt the NFL — and force an uncomfortable conversation. Because if a father’s love becomes a liability in professional sports, then we’ve gone badly off course. And if being Deion’s son is a scarlet letter, what message are we sending to the next generation of Black athletes — and their fathers?

I prided myself in being a hands on, present, and vocal father to my children, and sometimes I may have rubbed some people the wrong way, but it was always about the children for me. I believe that Deion understands what happened with Shadeur, and he blames himself, but he should not blame himself for doing what so many young men wish someone had done for them, and that is to love them and stand up for them. 

Shadeur Sanders will be fine. Talent like his doesn’t stay hidden for long. But the stain left by this draft-day debacle will linger. Not just for the Sanders family — but for every family watching, wondering what happens when a young Black man dares to believe he’s worthy of greatness, and his father dares to believe it with him. And that’s my take. smithpren@aol.com