There absolutely is a precedent, and we would know about it more if only there were smartphones back in 1968. After the US Olympic athletes John Carlos and Tommie Smith raised their fists in Mexico City at the 1968 Games, people were doing it around the country — youth groups, high school graduating classes, sports teams.

The lack of recording devices is one reason why we don’t know about it, and another reason is that it often happened in the rural South — in Black high schools, junior high schools, and certainly Black colleges. In 1969, the entire graduating class of Howard University raised their fists like Tommie Smith and John Carlos.

So that act is a precedent. Obviously, social media makes it so much more powerful in 2016, but there are parallels to the past — this incredible showing of dissent on the sports field, but also the context of a broader movement that amplifies it and makes it resonate.

I respect the fact that people like Lebron James and Carmelo Anthony are feeling an obligation to speak out. We should have all the respect in the world that they — sorry to use this metaphor — moved the ball forward, just by saying you have a right to speak out and you need to say something about the police killings that are taking place.

The first thing that makes Kaepernick different, though, isn’t the taking the knee at the anthem, but the political content of what he’s doing. He’s saying, “No justice no peace.” He’s taking a side and going beyond what many people have said — that we need stop the violence, and to bring police and community together.

Kaepernick is saying that there’s something wrong with a system where police won’t even be prosecuted when they kill someone. It isn’t about just getting to know the police better or having more forums or building more bridges. It’s about there being something systemically wrong about the way policing is done in this country. That’s the political content, and it’s a huge part of what makes this different.

Then there’s the act of first sitting and then kneeling during the anthem, which is putting politics in a space that many sports fans — especially reactionary, right-wing sports fans — want to see as an apolitical space.

Kaepernick is violating this unspoken social contract between the team owners and majority white fan base that says black athletes are to be seen, but not heard. They are here for entertainment, but you don’t have to really care what they think about the world.

And then the simplicity of the gesture is something that allows itself for replication. One of the reasons that it spread is that while people agree with Kaepernick that we have to have a discussion about police violence, it also became an act of solidarity against the death threats and racism that he is receiving.

Kaepernick has a teammate named Eli Harold, who last week wasn’t going to do anything about the anthem or the flag. But then ESPN’s Trent Dilfer basically said Kaepernick should shut his mouth and play, and Eli was so mad that he decided to join the protest.

Then there’s the social media aspect of it. You see that picture of Howard University cheerleaders all taking a knee — cheerleaders are usually seen in the football context as not to be taken seriously, and here you see the unsmiling pose of these incredibly strong black women.

That’s a powerful image, and the only thing you can do when you see an image like that is respond. Some respond with respect, and others respond with absolute, utter hate. What you don’t see is people being neutral when they see it.

That’s a great question. Abdul-Rauf’s protest was in 1996, and Tommie Smith and John Carlos were at the 1968 Olympic Games. I think the media of 1996 had far more in common with the media of 1968 than with the media of 2016.

The sports media of 1996 and before was made up largely of older, white conservative sports writers who set the tune for how things would be discussed across the country. That’s not as much the case today.

Don’t get me wrong — there are still a lot of racist sportswriters in 2016. At the same time, you can see that the sports-writing landscape and the NFL business landscape is much more responsive to what is said and discussed on social media. In many respects, social media sets the tone for how these discussions take place. Not entirely, but the balance of power is different from what it was in 1996.

Let me give you an example of that. One of the media narratives when Kaepernick started sitting was, “Oh, he’s disrespecting veterans!”

What happened in response to that? #VeteransforKaepernick. Photos all over the internet of veterans kneeling during the national anthem. And so before you know it, you have a radical veteran, my man Rory Fanning, invited onto CNN to explain why he stands with Colin Kaepernick.

It’s not like we control the mainstream television and print media from social media below. But the balance of power is changing dramatically. And obviously, that balance of power wouldn’t be the same if there wasn’t a Black Lives Matter movement.

So it’s a combination of those factors: The presence of the movement itself, plus a sports media and a mainstream media that are much more responsive as people talk about issues on the social media platform.

Which also would not have happened in 1996 by the way.

I think we’ve seen a bubbling of this for quite a few years. You have to understand the continuity in what’s happening right now. It would be a mistake to say, like a lot of the media is saying: “You had a lot of athletes who were political in the late 1960s, and then maybe you had some women who were political like Billie Jean King in the 1970s and now it’s re-emerging.”

That’s just not the truth. The same way that in the labor movement there are people who stay active in the dark times and are able to be that connective tissue between the ups and the downs, it’s the same way in sports. So that’s the importance of knowing the history of people like Craig Hodges and Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf in the 1990s, when it really was at its worst in terms of athletes in struggle.

But I’m really thinking more of the post-9/11 period and the athletes who spoke out against war unapologetically. People like Etan Thomas. Even a nineteen-year-old Lebron James said his goal was to dunk on George W. Bush.

Athletes, of course, have always had political discussions in the locker room, and I think they’ve always had a unique view of US society, because they’re disproportionately African American in basketball and football, and disproportionately Dominican and Latino in baseball. Many grow up in poverty, and then they get a lot of money. Then, all of a sudden, everybody’s pushing a microphone in front of their faces. That’s a crazy perch by which to look at this country. It’s a crazy perspective.

Also, I think that what athletes have found in recent years in particular is when they speak out and say something, they actually get some praise for that, too. It’s not the boring “We play one game a time, the good lord willing” quote. There’s a thirst to know these athletes more as personalities.

I think a lot of the leagues have marketed that. But for the front office, that giveth and it taketh away — because what if you want to get to know a player, and instead of hearing “Eat your vitamins and stay in school,” they’re saying “Black Lives Matter” or “I support my gay teammates.” Or we demand equal pay because we’re women soccer players, and we just won the World Cup.

Honestly, one big turning point in athletes feeling the confidence to speak out was around 2008 with Barack Obama’s campaign. All of a sudden, a lot of the media were going to Black athletes because it was good copy: “What do you think about this historic moment of a first Black president?”

That’s the first time you heard people like Carmelo Anthony speak out. That’s the first time you heard Lebron James say something really political. I think that began to plant some seeds in a lot of these athletes. It’s almost like they were trying on a new suit, and they said, “Hey, this feels pretty good.”

That’s all built us up to this moment. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: If it wasn’t Colin Kaepernick, it would have been somebody else. This was ready to happen.

First of all, there’s always been this intersection of politics and sports and antiracism because sports was one of the few avenues for black men in particular to show excellence and have standing.

Sports also became this place where all the lies of racism — the number one lie being black inferiority — could be disproven in a very public way. How are you going to argue the inferiority of people based on the color of their skin when you have Jack Johnson as the heavyweight champion?

So it’s always been this politicized space. But when you talk about athletes in 2016, I really believe that the death of Muhammad Ali and the amount of coverage that received has played an unspoken role in everything we’re seeing right now.

The coverage of his death was an education for people. Based on their social media feeds, a lot of athletes weren’t just saying: Rest in peace. They were re-tweeting articles, too. It wasn’t that different for a lot of the country. There was an education process about Ali once he passed away, and I think it made a big impact on a lot of athletes.

Roger Goodell is someone who fines people for having the wrong color shoelaces. He fined Antonio Brown for twerking in the end zone. Terrell Pryor pretty much lost the game for the Browns last weekend because he flipped the ball at a referee, and they gave him a penalty because they said that was showboating when it accidentally hit the guy guarding him on the helmet.

That’s the NFL — completely authoritarian and top-down in how it polices players.

But look how gingerly Roger Goodell has walked around this issue. The league isn’t fining or suspending players for protesting during the anthem or walking out onto the field with slogans written on their uniforms. You have to ask the question: Why is this cabal of right-wing owners and their flak-catcher in the commissioner’s office not cracking down?

I think the answer is that they realize they have a $20 billion business that’s built on a very rickety foundation. The NFL has zero percent black owners and 70 percent black players — and at the skill positions, the percentage is higher — who destroy their bodies playing this sport. I think the numbers are 24 percent of front-office people are black, and 16 percent of head coaches are black.

In other words, if the players say, “We’re mad about the situation of black people in this country,” the last thing they want to do is fine those players and have them say, “Gee, I guess the NFL is no different from being black in an alley and running across a cop in South Carolina.” The last thing they want is people drawing those kinds of direct parallels.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from looking at athletic protests, they’re a feature of the broader movement, not a substitute for it. So this has already been a success — another chapter in the history of sports and politics has been written.

We already know this is going to happen in the NBA because players like Iman Shumpert and Victor Oladipo say it’s going to happen. So this isn’t going anywhere. The protests could stop in the NFL tomorrow — though they won’t — and they would start up again November 1 in the NBA.

And tragically, as long as there are violent police officers in this country, these protests will continue. As long as there is no justice, there’s not going to be peace.

So the best-case scenario is that we keep the struggle going so that the families who have been devastated by losing their loved ones to police and getting no redress actually start to see real justice. As long as athletes shine a light on what’s happening, in concert with broader movements, then that points to the hope of ending the scourge of racist police violence once and for all.