Post by TheShadow on Dec 12, 2007 20:52:00 GMT -5
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By Paul Gutierrez
SAN FRANCISCO – They have been around since the dawn of time, or at least since the beginning of recorded history.
After all, they are a way, in a sense, of recording history.
Tattoos, seen both as glamorous and glorious artwork with the body as canvas and scarring and garish tradition that screams of buyer's remorse the moment needle releases from skin, have become mainstream. And in professional sports, especially in the NFL, being "tatted up" is the norm rather than the exception.
"It's a trend thing," said 49ers wide receiver Arnaz Battle, who memorialized his late baby brother Brandon on his left arm. "I think that young America has gone to tattoos as a way of expressing themselves, and for me, every tattoo has a meaning.
"If it reminds you of something, or it's a tribute to someone, tattoos are a big part of (showing) it."
Stroll through the 49ers' or Raiders' locker room, and to see an inkless body truly is tougher than finding Waldo on a cereal box. Ray Bradbury's "The Illustrated Man" has nothing on pro football players, whose bodies tell the tales they choose to tell.
Indeed, what had been more closely associated with drunken sailors on shore leave or those doing hard time is as common as shoulder pads and face masks in the NFL. And with all the legal hot water the league has found itself in of late – think Michael Vick, "Pacman" Jones, etc. – some say it's merely a reflection of said life.
"It's part of the infusion of prison culture," said noted sports sociologist Harry Edwards, who once worked with the 49ers. "From wearing the pants low … all of that is prison culture. And prison is gang culture.
"What you used to see on Hell's Angels or any other outlaw fringe, so-called 'sets,' now has infused youth culture. And with hip-hop culture, it has not just flashed it, but flaunted it."
But it's not about race.
"It's promoted and affirmed by hip-hop culture, so it's inevitable that athletes that come from that pool, whether they're white or black or what have you, at the end of the day what has happened is everybody wants to be cool," Edwards said.
"If one (tattoo) is good, then a profusion is great. As the lady said in 'Scarface,' Nothing exceeds like excess."
Then allow us to introduce 49ers running back Michael Robinson, whose tour of the artwork on his body takes time.
"I'm just into tattoos; I just like tattoos. I'm a real flames-and-skulls type of guy," an excitable Robinson said, growing more animated showing off his ink.
There are the obligatory juxtapositioned themes of religion (he has the face of Jesus on his right rib cage, and Scripture fills his back) and street life (a bullet piercing the name of his hometown, Richmond, Va., on his right chest). And don't dare forget mom.
"I can't sit here and lie and say all of mine mean something, but the majority of them do," Robinson said. "Some of them are just because I felt like that at that time. Some of them are just because I needed to fill in space. Seriously.
"When you do tattoos and start putting them in places, they start to look funny if you don't tie them together. You need fillers."
Which is why his right arm is his "whatever arm," a continuous work in progress of lines, doodles and designs.
"I just let my tattoo artist go with it," Robinson said. "But right here … I've got the bullet going through it because there's a lot of killing in Richmond."
Robinson said he first got inked when he turned 18.
"When I was old enough to go without my mom," he said.
Her reaction? "She was like, Oh, my God, what did you do to yourself?" he said with a laugh. "Then I ended up getting this one with her name on it, so she kind of calmed down."
For Isaac Sopoaga, a native of Samoa, being tattooed was expected among his people. Some theorize the original root word of "tattoo" comes from the Samoan "tatau."
"We represent our culture," said the 49ers' defensive tackle, who boasts five tattoos. "One is for family, one for my village and the others, they're for me."
Paying tribute to family also was Battle's impetus.
He was 9 when his 3-year-old brother Brandon drowned in their grandmother's pool in Shreveport, La., after a Pee-Wee title game.
So when Battle turned 18, he had a detailed rendering of Brandon's smiling face inked onto his left arm, with the words "In Loving Memory, Brandon "Tuk" Battle, 1986-1989."
"It's part of me; that's my bloodline," Battle said. "It keeps me going, helps me realize that tomorrow is never guaranteed, that you have to love your loved ones around you and respect them and appreciate them while everybody's here.
"I always wanted him with me. You have pictures, and you lose them … but I felt to put a portrait of him on myself, he will always be there. Through my success and through everything that I do, he will be a part of it."
It's not just players getting into the ink action. Last season, Oakland special-teams ace Jarrod Cooper, who has a linked tattoo rising up an arm, slinking around his back and wrapping around his waist, held a fan contest to see who in Raider Nation had the best work. Ironic, then, that a guy in the Kansas City Chiefs' backyard won the $1,000 prize and game tickets with a back covered in Raiders art.
"I think he's in prison or something," Cooper cracked to the San Francisco Chronicle.
Yuba City's Juan Orozco, who had a graveyard tattoo with "Tuck Rule" referee Walt Coleman hanging from a tree, was second. One entrant, Stacy Posey of Napa, had the cost of the tattoo on her thigh, which was of Cooper, paid for by Cooper.
Tattoos are undoubtedly personal and unique.
In a post-9/11 world, New York Giants tight end Jeremy Shockey arrived at training camp two years ago with a massive and ornate bald eagle wrapped in an American flag covering his right arm. The tattoo took 16 hours.
"It speaks for itself," he told reporters.
Then there's Raiders wide receiver Tim Dwight, who has "Give me freedom or give me death" stenciled into his right arm – in Chinese.
JaMarcus Russell, the Raiders' overall No. 1 draft pick who exudes a charming cockiness, was onto something when the quarterback had "The Chosen One" tattooed onto his left arm before his senior year … of high school.
"As a kid, I was always bigger than everyone and at that level had a little more talent," Russell said. "Growing up, you go through your ups and downs, and I kind of felt like God chose me to do certain things. And as a kid going to church, my pastor always told me he saw something special in me."
Edwards sees the emergence of shock jock Dennis Rodman, who combined tattoos with piercings to become a mad genius of self-promotion in the mid-1990s, as the forbearer of the NFL's current ink-stained landscape.
"What's really funny is that on some of these athletes, with their darker pigment, the tattoos don't even show up on their skin," Edwards said, laughing.
Looking at the counterculture movement of the day, it's cyclical and it's about being cool.
"At one point in time, you had a big Afro if you were black and hair long enough to play the lead in 'The Shaggy Dog' if you were white," Edwards said. "Now, it's tattoos. They never think that one day they might not want that devil on the neck crawling out from under their shirt."