Shoals Unlimited: Barkley's Legal Transgression Strengthens His Brand, Political Aspirations

Welcome to Shoals Unlimited, where Bethlehem will post a long-form piece on basketball once a week.

So, Mr. Barkley is going to jail. Between this brief stint behind bars, and his on-air apology, it seems Sir Charles will have no problem putting this embarrassing and yes, dangerous and illegal, episode behind him. But is it possible that because of the public persona Barkley’s crafted for himself, it’s only made him stronger -- right up to making him a more viable political candidate down the line?

As a player, Barkley famously insulated himself against criticism by declaring, with corporate backing, that he wasn’t a role model. This wasn’t only cutting social commentary, it was a darn smart career move.

The perennial All-Star was loud and angry on the court, and found his fair share of trouble off of it; lowering expectations, or eliminating them altogether, ingeniously warped the relationship between pro athletes, skittish advertisers and over-sensitive fans. Barkley could get away with anything because he made no bones about who he was. He wasn’t a lightweight rebel like Rodman, or the kind of surly bad boy who would soon invade the NBA in droves. Barkley was an anti-hero, who, in both his impulsiveness and authenticity, made the rest of the world look like hypocrites.

Sure, he’d apologize on occasion, but no more than you or I would for colliding with a stranger on the sidewalk. Sometimes there was even humor or sarcasm. The general tone of his life was, “I’m Charles Barkley, and I’m not that different from you, except I’m better in every way.” Barkley didn’t want to be a role model, but he became the gold standard for how to meld personal integrity, selfishness and charisma in the public eye.

That’s why he’s had such a successful career in broadcasting. Barkley never purports to be an expert, or even watch all the games. That’s the job of eager-beaver Kenny Smith, with his omni-present ear piece and front-office aspirations. No, Barkley’s job is just to, in the parlance of today’s hip-hop generation, be real. Not spout clichés about leadership and toughness like NFL jocks-turned-pundits, but extol common sense, slay sacred cows and keep Inside the NBA from ever seeming too much like, well, an exercise in marketing or faddishness. He can be curmudgeonly and reactionary, sometimes showing his age. But the reason that crew so effortlessly switches gears from Xs and Os to social issues to absurdist nonsense is Barkley, who at once keeps the show in line and pushes it to the limits.

(Sidenote: Chris Webber, who could not be less like Barkley as a player and a person, filled in admirably by coming at this role from the opposite angle. Instead of being bullish and defiant, Webber’s thoughtful, even sensitive, style made for a similarly digressive, and honest, conversation.)

Again, and as in the past, Barkley’s repented for his latest bad act. This time, it was preceded by some time away from the set. But the apology itself was vintage Barkley: a loud, repeated announcement that “I screwed up,” assurance that it wouldn’t happen again and grinning bewilderment at exactly what else he can do to make up for it. Barkley addressed the issue bluntly, but refused to kowtow. On top of -- or perhaps, alongside -- that were the now-infamous tapes of a trashed Barkley explaining to a cop that he was just rushing around in search of the finest oral sex available. At once, you get Barkley’s version of personal accountability, one that owes more to John Wayne and Teddy Roosevelt than today’s culture of self-flagellation, and a reminder of just how outrageous Barkley is, how his gambling, weight issues and now appetite for sex skirt the line between PR nightmare and all-too-human flaw. Like you and me, just more rich, powerful and able to get away with anything.

And so, while you’d think this double-shot of criminality and public humiliation would put an end to Barkley’s political aspirations, they’ve probably only strengthened his brand. That’s what he, like all celebrity candidates, would be running as -- a brand, a persona, a mascot for how the state wants to see itself. Never has Barkley’s shtick been more challenged, or has there been more at stake. And yet he’s ingeniously emerged as more honest, and theatrical, than ever. Barkley’s proven that he doesn’t just talk a good one, he lives it.

Accountable, like you and me, and every bit as imperfect in combining right and wrong. If you want a role model in office, don’t vote for him. But if politics are increasingly about the candidate himself -- his character, history and possible liabilities -- then you could do far worse than Barkley. Like you and me, he understands human nature, and lives its ups and downs. Except he gets to run for governor, and you don’t.

This post originally appeared on the Sporting Blog. For more, see The Sporting Blog Archives.