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From homeless to top NFL draft prospect

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PHOENIX — Javon Kinlaw has childhood memories — gunshots, dead bodies, needles, addicts — he doesn’t want to think about. He doesn’t block them out. He just doesn’t want to talk about them. They give Kinlaw bad dreams. They wake him up in a cold sweat. It’s what he calls his trauma. And he doesn’t want to go down that road.

“I’m not comfortable talking about a lot of stuff like that,” Kinlaw said.

Kinlaw, a defensive tackle out of South Carolina projected by ESPN’s Mel Kiper Jr. and Todd McShay to go in the first 20 picks of the NFL draft next month, is a long way away from spending part of his childhood homeless in Washington D.C. He’s sitting in front of a basket of medium-hot wings — his second — and a basket of fries. He’s plowing through both like he did offensive lines during his senior season with the Gamecocks. His 6-foot-5, 324-pound frame can hardly fit in the booth, but he doesn’t want to make his life easier by moving to a table. It’s no surprise; his life has never been easy.

It’s mid-February and his days are as easy as he’s had, and a lot less complex than they are now. He’s living in Arizona, preparing for the draft and looking for a place to fish. He trains in the morning and does things like go to the dentist in the afternoon. He was spending all his time preparing for his pro day on March 19, which was canceled as the coronavirus pandemic spread. Kinlaw, a first-team All-American as a senior, didn’t work out at the NFL scouting combine back in February because of knee tendinitis, so his pro day was supposed to answer any final questions on a field.

More than likely he’ll still be a first-round pick and sign a contract that will change his life, his daughter’s life, his future grandchildren’s lives and a couple more generations down the road.

“I know I’m gonna get some type of money,” Kinlaw said. “The way I’m wired, I’ve been down, like down bad, down bad. Bad like where no one should be. Lived in basements. No matter what the money is, I’m going to be grateful. I can get me somewhere to live. Regardless of where I’m gonna be, I’m going [to] find me somewhere to live it. So, I don’t care what amount it is.”

Growing up homeless

Kinlaw wasn’t always homeless. He lived in an apartment in the Washington, D.C. area with his mother and one of his older brothers, Shaquille, until he was 7 or 8 years old. When their landlord sold the building, they ended up at a house Kinlaw’s grandfather sold to his mother’s friend before moving back to Trinidad.

But the house soon started falling apart. The roof caved in.

They had to move again. He was 9 or 10.

He’d go without electricity or running water. He used his neighbor’s hose to fill up totes of water to bring back to the house he was living in.

“We had gas, a gas stove,” Kinlaw said. “We would light the stove with a little match or something, get a tall pot, boil the water, mix it with some cold water, put it in a bucket, take it upstairs, take a shower like that.”

He only got new clothes at the start of the school year, and they’d have to last him. He’d rotate between one pair of jeans, a couple pairs of shorts, a hoodie and some shirts. But he always had a lot of socks.

Kinlaw lived in basements and with friends. He didn’t complain to his mother, who moved to the United States from Trinidad in 1995, that he didn’t have new shoes or wished his life was better. He didn’t ask for more food or a jacket, because he knew the answer.

“I really don’t think it was still that bad even though we went through a lot,” Kinlaw said. “Because, to me, that’s what it was. I didn’t care about that stuff. I still don’t. I mean, we were so used to living like that. I mean, if I was living like that now, it still wouldn’t really bother me because I already know what it feels like. Even though it was like that, we had a lot of good days. It wasn’t really … I mean, it was bad.

“For the next person, you can probably say it was probably horrible. But for me I don’t think it was that bad.”

But he began to develop some bad habits and got into trouble. He’d ride the Metro with his brother around D.C. to skip school, hopping over the turnstile if he didn’t have enough money for a ticket. Sometimes they rode it just to stay warm. If he went to school and wasn’t being the “class clown,” he’d go the bathroom for a half hour at a time to avoid being in class.

Something to needed to change.

Finding football

In the middle of ninth grade, Kinlaw moved to South Carolina to live with his dad, George. It was supposed to be a way to escape the streets of Northeast Washington, D.C. Instead, Kinlaw found himself in another dire situation. His coaches at Goose Creek High School in South Carolina said they remember hearing Kinlaw’s father was an alcoholic and got physical with him at times, that his live-in girlfriend didn’t want Javon around.

He ended up living with a teammate during his senior year.

At school, Kinlaw was bullied by older kids because of his size (280 pounds), his clothes and his shoes. Teachers doubted him.

“So many people used to tell me, like, ‘You ain’t gonna do nothing. You might be in jail. You probably gonna be dead, you’re not going to graduate college,'” Kinlaw said.

Kinlaw wanted to play Pop Warner as a kid but his mom couldn’t afford it. His football career began as a sophomore at Goose Creek because it was something to do, a way for him to eat up time without getting in trouble.

Chuck Reedy, the head coach at Goose Creek during Kinlaw’s sophomore and junior seasons, didn’t sugarcoat Kinlaw’s ability when he joined the team: He wasn’t good.

But Kinlaw’s size attracted college attention, including from former South Carolina coach Steve Spurrier. When Spurrier’s son, Steve Spurrier, Jr., offered a scholarship, Kinlaw wasn’t even sure what he meant.

“I was like, ‘What do you want to offer me?'” Kinlaw remembered. “Because I didn’t know what he was talking about. I’m thinking like he’s talking about … I don’t know what he was talking about offering me, but I didn’t know it was gonna be like a football scholarship.”

Still, Kinlaw was struggling away from the field, according to Chris Candor, the Goose Creek head coach during Kinlaw’s senior season. Candor said teachers, assistant coaches and an equipment manager came to him asking for Kinlaw to be kicked off the team because of grades, effort or run-ins. Candor refused. Football was the only thing Kinlaw had, he’d explain.

“Coming where I come from, you can’t trust nobody,” Kinlaw said. “You end up trusting the wrong person, you end up dead. Of course, I just was always being defensive all the time. That’s just what I come from. That was natural for me always being defensive.”

That, and moving around as much as he did, made it hard for him to make friends. He tried to count all the schools he went to: four elementary schools, two middle schools and three high school. It reached the point that he stopped trying to make friends.

With offers from Alabama, USC, Louisville, Maryland, Clemson, Ole Miss, South Carolina, Tennessee and Florida, Kinlaw dropped out of Goose Creek halfway through his senior year.

Straightening out

Kinlaw didn’t start trusting people — especially coaches — until he went to Jones College, a junior college in Mississippi.

Improvement happened, but it wasn’t always easy.

After becoming a U.S. Army All-American, Kinlaw, with Candor and new South Carolina coach Will Muschamp, devised a plan to leave Goose Creek after the first semester of his senior year and enroll at Jones, where he took the GED and spent the next year getting his associate’s degree. The plan came together in a matter of days.

Going to Jones was the beginning of his maturation, Kinlaw said. He began to straighten up. He was warned early during his time at Jones if he continued being the same person he was at Goose Creek he’d be sent home. That threat hit him hard; he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Jones didn’t just get Kinlaw ready for football. It got him ready for life.

“If there was ever someone who needed structure,” Jones coach Steve Buckley said, “it was him.”

Kinlaw went to Mississippi without an ID or a birth certificate — which he still doesn’t have. There, he learned how to drive.

He left Jones a new man. He was following directions. Trusting people. Giving better effort on the field.

He was also heavier.

After scrambling for food most of his life, Kinlaw could eat all he wanted at Jones, though he didn’t know it at first. Kinlaw didn’t eat the first two days at Jones because he thought he had to pay for the food. He called Muschamp, who ordered him a pizza and then explained the way a college cafeteria worked.

“All this food was free? I started going crazy,” Kinlaw said.

All the pizza he could stomach, fried chicken on Wednesdays, catfish on Fridays. He kept eating. Kinlaw showed up to Jones in the spring of 2016 weighing 280 pounds and then played football that fall at 305.

The next year Kinlaw arrived at the University of South Carolina weighing 347 pounds. And on top of being out of shape he began to revert to some of his old bad habits. He tried to coast through team meetings. He was on his phone. He’d lean his head on the wall and try to sleep.

His wake-up call at South Carolina came during his first fall camp. He was getting tossed around by offensive linemen for the first time in his life.

“I’m like, ‘Damn,'” he said. “Being like that made me realize that this is not no joke.”

He changed his mindset, and from there everything started falling into place. He paid attention in meetings. He started losing weight. He hit the weight room harder. He started studying. He watched film closer.

And he also started to learn how to play football at a higher level. He was figuring out how to shed blocks and beat linemen.

“That’s when I started falling in love with football, really,” Kinlaw said.

A chance for a new life

As Kinlaw finishes his wings and fries, he leans back as far as his body will allow him. His right leg is stretched into the aisle.

He likes who he is now, at a place in his life he didn’t see coming “in a million years.” He plans on building a homeless shelter with the money he makes in the NFL as well as taking care of his own family.

On March 25, 2019, Kinlaw became a father to Eden Amara. Now he wants to be the dad he never had.

“That’s why I go so hard, why I put my soul into this,” he said. “Because something like that can really affect you.

“I just want her to have a fun childhood, not have to worry about things she shouldn’t have to be worrying about as a kid.”

Kinlaw can now provide that. He had 35 tackles and six sacks during his senior season. South Carolina defensive line coach John Scott, a defensive assistant for the New York Jets in 2015 and 2016, has told Kinlaw he could be better than Leonard Williams, who was a first-round pick in 2015.

“He’s a great example of not letting your circumstances define who you are,” Muschamp said. “Unbelievable example for that. The guy persevered, worked, was a model citizen when he was here, did everything we asked him to do.”

It’s a long way from boiling the neighbor’s hose water to take a shower.

“Each year, something about who I am changes,” Kinlaw said. “Like every year. See how I’m talking to you like this? If this was three, four years ago, I would not be talking to you. I’ll probably think like you were trying to set me up or something.

“My life is already changing. I don’t really know how much more it’s going to change, but it’s already changing.”

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Renaming the Redskins – Inside the process, hurdles and possible fallout

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The process of changing a team name isn’t a simple one, as the Washington Redskins are about to discover. That is, if they indeed change their name as is widely expected.

Two things are known: ESPN’s Adam Schefter reported that there will be no Native American imagery; as one team source said the other day, they don’t want to create future issues. And another team source said Wednesday that the plan, as of now, is to stick with the burgundy and gold color scheme.

Still, as Marc Ganis, president and founder of consulting firm Sportscorp, pointed out: It can take some teams two years to make a change. But those teams often have the luxury of time. Washington might end up doing it hastily because of more intense pressure than ever to ditch a name some view as derogatory.

A number of sponsors, led by FedEx (which has naming rights to the team’s stadium under a $205 million deal that runs until 2025), Nike and PepsiCo have said they want the name changed. And numerous retailers, including Target, Walmart and Amazon, have stopped selling the team’s merchandise.

“Because of the pressure now, there’s more value in doing something sooner rather than later,” Ganis said.

That’s the easy part. Redskins coach Ron Rivera told The Washington Post he’d like it done before training camp; however, that may well be mostly about his desire to have it over so he can focus on football. That doesn’t mean anything will be decided by late July.

The hard part will be everything else: for example, replacing the signs in the stadium and at the practice facility.

“It’s amazing how you go through a stadium and through a practice facility where that logo exists,” said Matt Williams, a former executive vice president with the NBA’s Washington Wizards. He was with the team when it dropped the name Bullets. “It’s everywhere. It’s a process to switch that over.”

Here’s an in-depth look at what confronts owner Dan Snyder and the organization as changing the team name is explored.

What’s a typical timetable for this?

The league has never gone through anything quite like this, where a franchise decides to change its name after 87 years. That’s why one league source said last week that there’s no timetable, because this is a unique situation. The last team to change its name was the Tennessee Oilers in 1998 — but that stemmed from the franchise having moved from Houston.

The team’s executive vice president/general manager at the time, Floyd Reese, said the process took a year — from the announcement that the Oilers were changing their name until completion. That included getting the name Titans trademarked, along with T-shirts and any other items they produced.

When the Bullets announced they were changing their name, the process took two years to complete. And the process involves more than just renaming a team. Williams, who now is a senior strategist and vice president of media relations for Maroon PR, said there’s also time and energy devoted to logos and color schemes, the stationery and even business cards.

“There are so many tentacles to where a sports franchise’s name exists,” Williams said. “It’s quite an undertaking. … It’s a lot more of an involved process than certainly the general public thinks. They think you can paint a new logo on the field and it’s done. You could do it that way, but it’s not the preferred way and there will be hiccups.”

Does the league vote on the name?

No. The other owners will not vote on whatever the organization decides, but the NFL must approve the name. Multiple sources said Snyder has been in discussions with the league about a possible name change for three weeks.

When Tennessee changed its name, it worked in conjunction with the league office. Reese said the league had names on hand that had been tested and reviewed, including the Titans. He also said there was a group in Tennessee that wanted the name Rebels. Then one day he got a phone call from a lady who said she was the ex-wife of James Earl Ray — the man who shot Martin Luther King Jr.

“She said, ‘That would have been a name [Ray] liked, and he’s a staunch racist and you can’t use that name,'” Reese said. “I said, ‘I’ve got it, ma’am.'”

How long is the logo process?

Brian Killingsworth has had experience with this process. He was the marketing and promotions director for MLB’s Tampa Bay Rays in 2007 when they dropped the word “Devil” from their name and now is the chief marketing officer for the NHL’s Vegas Golden Knights.

“It’s a lot more of an involved process than certainly the general public thinks. They think you can paint a new logo on the field and it’s done.”

Matt Williams, former executive vice president with the Washington Wizards.

Killingsworth and the organization announced their new AHL team, the Henderson Silver Knights, complete with a logo in May. He called that a fast process; it took eight months. When he was the director of marketing and promotions in Tampa, he said it took nearly two years to not only tweak the team name but then come up with new colors and a new logo.

“We made changes internally, and then the last step was rebranding from that,” Killingsworth said of the Rays. He also was with the St. Louis Rams for three years and said they were having exploratory conversations in 2013 and ’14 about a new logo. It was finally launched this summer.

Said Williams of the Redskins: “They’ll want to come up with a logo that resonates, and that’s not a short process. I could see them doing something like changing the name and do something generic with the logo — maybe it’s just a word this first year — and then unveiling a logo down the road. Or maybe there’s something they already like. Traditionally, what you try to do when changing the name or coming up with a name, you want to have it completely in place and everything set to go.”

This is anything but a traditional situation, however.

One nugget of hope from Killingsworth for Washington fans: In the first season after the Rays changed their name, they advanced to their first World Series.

Will public opinion matter?

A decent amount, but probably more from the standpoint of which traditions the team wants to keep. It’s likely the name will come from within and perhaps will be tested in some way, but it doesn’t appear as if there’s any sort of focus group.

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Adam Schefter reports that change is coming to Washington, and he doesn’t expect the Redskins to retain their name in 2020.

The Redskins have said they want to involve alumni, Native American groups, the military and, at some level, the fans. But no concrete plans have been revealed.

Could this be a step toward a new stadium and hosting a Super Bowl?

Absolutely. Washington could have built a stadium in Virginia without changing the name, and probably in Maryland as well. The Redskins train in Virginia and play in Maryland. But their iconic former home — RFK Stadium — is located in the District of Columbia, and that’s a favored destination for the team. The city wants them back as well. But multiple city officials have been vocal about not wanting the team back unless it changes the name. Because the stadium is on federal land, the Redskins need help from the government. Eleanor Holmes Norton, the city’s delegate to the U.S. House of Representatives, recently told the “Redskins Talk” podcast that she’ll bring a bill before Congress to buy the unused federal land in an effort to lure Washington’s franchise back — once the name is changed. That would be a huge step toward a new stadium.

The team’s land lease at its current location ends in 2027, and if it does build a new stadium, as many anticipate, it could end up hosting a Super Bowl. Snyder has long desired to host one, and after New York hosted one at its newish stadium in 2014, the league could reward Washington after its stadium opens — as early as 2028.

How hard is it to get a new name trademarked?

Washington can start using a new name before it gets trademarked. The first step, according to Michael Graif, an intellectual property attorney with Mintz, is “clearing the trademark.” The team has to make sure there are no “confusingly similar trademarks that have priority over them,” he said.

Once the Redskins do that and are confident the trademark is available, they could start using the new name while applying for the trademark to be registered. The cost: $275 per classification of what they want trademarked. That includes clothing and calendars, printed material, video recordings and much more. The costs add up.

Graif said it takes about year for a trademark to go through. It takes about three months before it even gets assigned to an examining attorney from the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. For fans of the name Redtails, know this: Above the Law recently published a piece by Darren Heitner, founder of Heitner Legal, about two men who live in the Washington area — Deron Hogans and Thaniel van Amerongen. In February they “jointly filed an application to register the ‘Washington Redtails’ trademark in association with the licensing of intellectual property rights.”

Heitner said that application was published for opposition on June 23. After that point, other parties have 30 days to oppose the trademark. If the team wanted to use Redtails, it still could do so because it can prove the name would be used for goods and services. That’s key. However, Washington couldn’t move forward until the other application was resolved.

“It would cause a bump in the road in terms of trying to apply and register for a name if [Snyder] falls in love with [Redtails],” Heitner said in a phone conversation.

As for changing the uniform, Heitner said it doesn’t have to take long, depending on how far along Washington is in the process. Nike, which makes the NFL’s uniforms, seems to have hit its end with the Redskins name.

“It appears from a business and legal standpoint, [Nike is] ready for the team to change its name,” Heitner said. “It has pulled merchandise off [its] online retail store. It’s not like it’s going to lose out on money it wouldn’t otherwise have received. It’s very interesting to see how it plays out and how quickly it plays out.”

There’s also the matter of making sure broadcast partners and advertisers have the right logo and designs.

How will the brand be affected?

Let’s be honest: The Redskins’ brand has suffered in recent years for reasons unrelated to their name. In fact, when it comes to percentage of home attendance, the Redskins have finished just one season above 20th since 2007 — and that was in 2007, when they were second. They were 30th in 2019 and last the year before that. Part of that stems from having a stadium fans dislike in an area that results in traffic headaches — and a team that hasn’t won a playoff game since 2005.

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Jeff Darlington reports on the Redskins’ trio of minority owners, who are interested in selling their shares and make up about 40% of the ownership group.

There’s certainly a segment of the population that was offended by the name and logo — some fans of the team included — and that didn’t help. But the name has long been controversial, yet the fan base remained strong. Until recent years, that is, when fans tired of inconsistent play, years of false hope, and a front office and ownership group they disliked.

Over the past two seasons in particular, it was common to see opposing fans outnumber Redskins fans at home games. In other words: Winning matters; the brand hasn’t been selling tickets.

“We place too much emphasis on how much money a brand generates or how many followers it has on Twitter, and not enough emphasis on what a brand stands for,” said Jeremy Dowler, a brand consultant who is a former director of marketing for Adidas in football and baseball. “Going forward, the more inclusive a brand is, the stronger it will be,” he said. “The long-term connection fans have with a professional sports team comes from the location of that team, what the organization stands for, and how it represents the local and regional community, not the mascot.”

Will there be fallout?

Miami (Ohio) endured a similar decision 24 years ago with its name change. When the school was hiring a new president in 1996, then-athletic director Eric Hyman said a main question from the dean of students during every interview was: Will you change the name Redskins? The school is not as big a brand as Washington, but the 66-year-old name mattered at a university with a storied football history. It’s known as the cradle of coaches for producing luminaries such as Woody Hayes, Bo Schembechler, Jim Tressel, Ara Parseghian and, most recently, Sean McVay.

After beating Top 25 teams, Miami had a tradition of hanging a tomahawk in the locker room with the name of the beaten squad. That’s why, after the school decided in September 1996 to change its team name to the RedHawks, there was tension. One day, in what Hyman called a tense meeting, board member Wayne Embry — a former NBA player and front office executive — delivered a statement. Embry is 6-foot-10 and a large presence.

“He said, ‘I was born a Redskin, I’m gonna die a Redskin, but this is very offensive to the Miami tribe and we need to change it,'” Hyman said. “It ended the discussion. People were worried about a fallout financially; I don’t think there was much fallout.”

Hyman said a protest was organized against the name change.

“Ten people showed up,” said Hyman, who grew up in northern Virginia and considers himself a fan of the Washington franchise. “[The issue] eventually died, and it wasn’t as much a catastrophe as anticipated to be. … It was quieter than I expected.”

Williams understands the cycle of this situation. The Bullets name wasn’t as iconic as the Redskins; the franchise had been known as the Bullets for only 34 years, first in Baltimore and then Washington. It did win a championship in 1978, but it didn’t have a marching band or a fight song that resonated with fans. Still, he said, it’s all about time.

“Talk to any 20-year-old who grew up in this area and he’s just known the Wizards,” Williams said. “It becomes less of a sensitive subject as you move on. Time heals a little bit and probably will here, too.”

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Bengals’ Joe Burrow partners with food pantry for hunger relief fund

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Cincinnati Bengals rookie quarterback Joe Burrow has partnered with local organizations in Southeast Ohio to create a hunger relief fund named in his honor.

On Thursday, the Athens County Food Pantry and Foundation for Appalachian Ohio announced the creation of the Joe Burrow Hunger Relief Fund that will serve the region. Between the pantry’s donation and a dollar-for-dollar match from the FAO, the fund held $700,000 as of Thursday afternoon.

“I’m so grateful for the outpouring of support from people across the country around the food insecurity issues faced by those in my region,” Burrow said in a release. “The initial funds that were raised have had an immediate impact for people throughout Athens County, and I am honored to lend my support and voice to this new initiative that will ensure that impact lasts long into the future.”

The Bengals’ rookie quarterback has been vocal about the topic long before he led LSU to the College Football Playoff championship in January and was the top overall pick in this April’s NFL draft.

When Burrow won the Heisman Trophy in December 2019, he mentioned the issue of hunger in Athens County, where he spent the majority of his childhood. A fundraiser sparked by Burrow’s comments elicited roughly $650,000 in donations.

Karin Bright, president of the Athens County Food Pantry, said that once donations started to pour in, the organization wanted to not only address immediate needs but also look at any long-term impact that could be made. That sparked the idea for the endowment that was announced Thursday.

“It sends a very clear message that as a food pantry, we really are looking at things in a long-term way and we are looking at supporting this region,” Bright said.

According to a report released by the Ohio Development Services Agency in January 2019, Athens County had a poverty rate of 30.2%, which was the highest of any county in Ohio and doubled the statewide average. Per the Athens County Food Pantry, an estimated 12,900 people in the county — nearly one in five people — were food insecure before the spread of COVID-19.

In establishing the relief fund named after Burrow, Bright said there was a significant amount of discussion with Burrow’s parents, Jimmy and Robin, throughout the process that culminated with Thursday’s announcement.

Cara Dingus Brook, the president of the FAO, said the fund named after Burrow will help provide the level of support required to creating lasting change when it comes to food insecurity in the region. Brook said naming the fund after Burrow was “a fitting thing to do” because of the impact Burrow has made throughout the community.

“It has been a shot in the arm for everybody here,” Brook said. “So often in an area that has suffered from persistent poverty, with it can come a culture of diminished expectations.

“And so to see this success and this success to say to everybody else, ‘You can do it, too,’ it just totally embodies everything we as a foundation believe is going to lead our region forward and help solve some of these really generational issues, whether it’s economic issues or food insecurity.”

The new fund named after Burrow will be operated by the FAO and help the Athens County Food Pantry continue its efforts throughout Southeast Ohio.

“Being able to create this endowment is just another incredible way we’re going to be able to continue our work and support our region,” Bright said.

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Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie’s documentary film company finishes ‘The Meaning of Hitler’

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Philadelphia Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie’s documentary film company, Play/Action Pictures, on Thursday announced the completion of its inaugural project, which has been in the works for three years: “The Meaning of Hitler.”

Lurie is an executive producer for the film. The threat of white supremacy is a topic that has been important to him for some time, and this is an example of his commitment to addressing social issues.

The announcement comes as Eagles wide receiver DeSean Jackson has received widespread condemnation for his social media posts, including an anti-Semitic message that he attributed to Adolf Hitler.

Jackson spoke with Lurie and general manager Howie Roseman — both of whom are Jewish — on Tuesday, a source told ESPN’s Tim McManus, with Lurie expressing deep disappointment about the social media posts. Jackson expressed a desire to educate himself and to work directly with the Jewish community, and his camp contacted the rabbi at Chabad Young Philly a short time later to discuss ways for Jackson to donate to and work with the organization.

The documentary, which uses the 1978 best-selling book of the same title as a guide, was filmed in nine countries over three years.

“We couldn’t be prouder that ‘The Meaning of Hitler’ is the first completed film made by our new documentary production company, Play/Action Pictures,” Lurie said in a statement. “I envisioned Play/Action to be a leading creative force for films that engage with the most crucial and challenging issues of our time. The rise of white supremacy and neo-fascism in the United States and the world over are among the most important and serious threats we face today.”

Lurie and his former wife, Christina, won an Academy Award in 2011 as executive producers of “Inside Job,” a documentary that examined corruption on Wall Street.

ESPN’s Adam Schefter contributed to this report.

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