In the United States, the color of sports is black. The fastest, the strongest, the best and the most. Black athletes dominate the sporting world.

Since the early 1970s, blacks have been a majority in the National Basketball Association and currently constitute roughly 80 percent of league players. In the National Football League, almost 70 percent of league players are black, and an even higher percentage constitutes the skill-positions of wide receiver, running back and defensive back. In Major League Baseball, black athletes aren't nearly as prominent — making up less than 18 percent of the league — but more than 25 percent are Latino, many of whom are black Latinos. And most disparately, 93 percent of American gold medalists in track and field are black athletes.

Therefore, the question is not, as it once was, whether or not black athletes are dominant in mainstream American sports. Rather, the question of consequence has become, what does this phenomenon mean to us?

Over a century ago, Charles Dana, an editor at the New York Sun, said this about the possibility of a growing number of black athletes in American sports: "We are in the midst of a growing menace. The black man is rapidly forging to the front in the ranks of athletics. … We are in the midst of a black rise against white supremacy."

But now? White girls in Madison wear Donald Driver jerseys on Sunday afternoons and white teenagers in Middleton have posters of LeBron James in their rooms. In all practical terms, the large majority of the American population (the 67 percent who are white) has overwhelmingly embraced a dominant presence by a small minority (the 13 percent who are black) in at least one avenue of society.

And not just any avenue. Americans, often ridiculed for the fact by the international community, place an enormous, possibly even inordinate, importance on sports. As an example, a 30-second television ad for the Super Bowl, the climax of American sports, can cost upward of $2.5 million.

Moreover, the prospect of Americans truly embracing a diverse sporting world has even greater meaning when considering the inherently competitive nature of sports and the overwhelming exposure American sporting events elicit. On an average night, an American is much more liable to see a black man dunking over a white man than he is to see a statistic about disparities in income or health care among whites and blacks. The trend may point to a most-compelling argument: Even considering one of the most inherently competitive actions of our society, sports, Americans are viewing race outside of a competitive lens.

Yet there is also evidence pointing to a more disconcerted society. Many would say that over the past 50 years, a greater attention has been given to the positions of quarterback in football and pitcher in baseball — two positions that white athletes, or nonblack athletes, still dominate. Many social critics would ask whether Steve Nash would have been voted MVP twice in a row in 2005 and 2006 by American sportswriters were he not a white player. Or, more relevant for many Wisconsin residents, would Brett Favre enjoy the superstar status he does were he black?

As human beings, we — especially those of us privileged enough to earn an education — are in a constant struggle to rationalize circumstance and happenstance. "We are dealt the hand, but are not told how to play it." With few other issues is this as evident as with the circumstantial reality of race — from the society in which this social construct plays out for us, to the extent of which it determines our course of actions.

Such is the case with race in American sports. We see that in America, the color of sports is black, but more importantly, we analyze what that color means to us. Are we encouraged by it? Are we discouraged by it? Do we even care?

Furthermore, as Americans, we ask how this reality fits into the lens of our shared values and common ideals. As a people that live under the stated "self-evident" sentiment that "all men are created equal," how do we interpret inequality? Do we seek equality or do we seek equal opportunity? Not just in sports — although effectively highlighted by sports — but in all aspects of society.

Additionally, does the success of the black community in sports help or hurt the cause for progress? How do prominent black athletes contribute to, or diminish from, what many academics dub the "Myth of the Black Male"? How does black prominence in sports fit into the twilight of white ethnicity in America and the consequent uncertainty of shared cultural values among many white Americans?

Certainly — at least for the foreseeable future — these are undying questions. But for now, the most significant question is whether or not you are compelled to ask them.

Andy Granias ([email protected]) is a junior majoring in political science and legal studies.