Eric Striker: Oklahoma's emotional leader, football's social conscience
Whether Eric Striker is a professional football player, activist or even an actor following his college career, Oklahoma's emotional leader is sure to make his mark. He hopes to next do that in the Orange Bowl on Thursday.
By
Dennis Dodd
•
6 min read
NORMAN, Oklahoma -- Eric Striker flops on a couch in the Oklahoma players’ lounge looking like he’s talked out. No, he says. Not even remotely. You have to ask because, if the senior linebacker gets started, it’s hard to slow him down.
And when he does get revved up, you know -- he knows -- the conversation will hardly be about football.
“I always thought,” Striker says, warming to the conversation, “about changing the world.”
In a way, the ground rules on this dialogue were set along ago. College football and its playoff will proceed, but not without his influence. Striker has become this season’s -- this sport’s -- social conscience.
Until a transformative moment in the spring, Striker was known as little more than a hard-charging third-team All-American. Change the world? It actually happened here just a little. Striker was the tip of the sword that swung back against racism in the spring.
Sigma Alpha Epsilon’s viral video racial remarks seemed to stir something deep in the Sooners.
“I don’t think there’s any doubt,” offensive coordinator Lincoln Riley said. “Things like that either totally destroy you or end up being a positive.”
This was a positive. The Sooners freely admit they wouldn’t be at this point in history playing No. 1 Clemson without the bonding that took place. It completed Oklahoma more than any film session or practice.
You know by now, after the insensitive comments, the Oklahoma players met and marched (across campus in solidarity). Football became secondary as three spring practices were missed.
Mostly, the Sooners reveled in what they had accomplished.
“At first, it just came from team meetings,” Striker said. “We said, ‘We gotta to do something. We can’t just let this fly by. We’ve got a stage. People listen to us, let’s make a statement and bring positive change.’"
And so they did. The Oklahoma team you will see this week will go down in history. Not just because it rebounded from a tie for the worst record in Bob Stoops’ career (8-5). Not just because of the Baker Mayfield phenomenon. Not just because Riley was deemed the best assistant coach in the country.
A lot of it will be because of the Audacity of Eric. Yup, he has compared himself to Rosa Parks. Yup, he cursed out the haters in that now infamous Snapchat. Yup, he basically regrets none of it.
He and the Sooners made a difference in the world. In the wake of the SAE incident, the fraternity was shut down. OU president David Boren created a new position, vice president for diversity. Striker was among a group of selected OU athletes who met with contrite SAE members.
“They spoke their piece and apologized,” Striker said. “I did [accept it]. Some people just weren’t ready for it. They needed more time.”
All of it, “definitely brought us closer together,” center Ty Darlington told reporters. “It allowed us to get to know each other on a completely different level.”
It started with Striker, who helped make SAE a national story by posting that profanity-laced Snapchat. It was quickly taken down, but nothing on the Internet truly dies.
Striker regrets only the profanity because the message got through.
“Same motherf------ talking about racism don’t exist are the same motherf------ shaking our hands, giving us hugs, telling us how you really love us. F--- you, you phony-ass, fraud-ass bitches.”
It was basically the same message communicated by the protesting Missouri players last month when they boycotted for a couple of days before the system president resigned.
You love us on Saturday, but after that, it’s the same old thing.
“Somebody has to stand up and say this is wrong, generation to generation,” Striker said. “Somebody has to say, ‘I’m not going to have this in my fraternity. I’m not going to have this in my family.' Unfortunately, people keep teaching it.”
That’s the same thing Stoops communicated to me during an interview last month.
“It's sad that some this behavior [racism] would still be taught,” he said. “When it's learned behavior, to me that's what's appalling about it.”
All of it is a bit strange because Oklahoma under Barry Switzer had been a foundation for diversity. Growing up poor in Arkansas, Switzer has often said he related to underprivileged black athletes and their struggle to use athletics to get a college education.
Striker is well aware of that legacy as well as the inspirational Prentice Gautt, OU’s first African-American football player.
Armed with a desire to lead, he does not avoid comparing himself to Parks. That’s inspiring to some, perhaps outlandish to others.
“What I did -- personally, individually -- I felt was right,” Striker said specifically of his leadership in the wake of SAE. “I didn’t think I’d touch and inspire as many people as I did. I just needed to do it in my heart, my mind and my soul.
“I compared it to Rosa Parks. She didn’t know she was touching hearts. She was just tired of giving up. She was tired of giving up her seat.”
This far into the conversation you expect all of it from the son of a mother who pursued a law degree at age 44. Striker himself is a political science major who chose to write a paper comparing the influence of Herbert Hoover vs. Franklin Roosevelt during the Great Depression.
He’s here because, like a lot of youths, Striker wanted to get away from home (Seffner, Florida). He’s the leader of a historic defense. No other defense in Big 12 history has -- like the current Sooners -- led the conference in scoring, total, rushing and pass defense.
Mostly, he’s a leader -- period. Striker is happy to absorb a new piece of information: He is part of game that has a record number of African-Americans (53 percent in FBS) but less than 10 percent black head coaches.
“In this country, race has always been a strange, funny thing,” Striker said. “It’s how you deal with it.”
They talk in Norman about a Striker who, in the past, was withdrawn, didn’t have much to say to the media. This year, he was given an award by the local beat writers -- most media friendly.
That matters little to the outside world. Inside the program, it was an awakening, not unlike what a lot of young adults go through as they mature physically, socially and academically in college. This change just happened to be on the national stage.
As the Sooners came together on the field -- winning their last seven straight -- Striker did not turn down interviews. Stoops did not shield him.
Turns out it’s best to talk these things out. Spread out on that couch, Striker ruminated some more. It seems like something close to pity he felt watching an aged, withered George Wallace -- the once-strident racist who spit segregationist poison back in 1963.
“I saw an interview with him in a wheelchair [later in life],” Striker said. “He was old and very apologetic.”
Striker is also familiar with Selma, both the turning point in civil rights history, but also the compelling 2014 film.
“We’re going to keep getting our heads beat in,” he said. “Those protests, police siccing their dogs on us. The pressure from those hoses -- on women and young children. You get tired of it. You can only push so much.”
“I always think about, 50 years ago is not that long ago.”
There is a lull in the conversation. Striker isn’t talked out, but he has to get to a workout. For the moment, changing the world takes a break.
