Protests evolving

That was a year ago, and in the time since, “Kaepernicking” has come to look starkly different: high school and college athletes have knelt during the national anthem, and so have WNBA players, a soccer star and a gold-medal swimmer.

NBA players locked arms before games, NFL players raised fists, and representatives on the grass roots level of American sports followed the lead of the complicated man in the 49ers uniform: high school cheerleaders in Nebraska, a college marching band in North Carolina, a volleyball team in Massachusetts.

Last month a rapper issued support of Kaepernick during a nationally televised awards show, and after the quarterback opted out of his 49ers contract in March, President Trump suggested Kaepernick wouldn’t join a new team because franchises were afraid of “getting a nasty tweet” from the president.

It is, in the image-conscious NFL, more straightforward than that.

“No one wants the nonsense or the [B.S.] . . . It’s not collusion, it’s common sense,” the NFL owner said, going on to credit Kaepernick on one front. “The thing that he’s done probably more effectively than any team community relations staff or owner or coach could do for other players is [point out] that they do have the ability to affect the national dialogue.”

Though Kaepernick has given life to a movement, he has not always done it gracefully. Last year he wore socks featuring cartoon pigs wearing police uniforms, and he was criticized for wearing a T-shirt picturing Fidel Castro, the former Cuban dictator, during a postgame news conference. He was heavily criticized in November after revealing that, despite his ongoing protest, he did not vote in the 2016 election and suggested his participation would’ve been “hypocritical.”

Though he sends occasional statements via his social media channels, Kaepernick has again shown himself to be a reluctant messenger: He moved to New York earlier this year but has not conducted an in-depth interview since January; he rarely appears in public and has in fact been asked by event organizers to not appear at rallies in his name.

Critics wonder what it is Kaepernick actually hopes will come out of this, and when it comes to his endgame, he has so far allowed others to speak for him. Symone Sanders, the former Bernie Sanders spokeswoman, said it’s for the NFL to institute an advocacy policy and form a commission on race relations. Bender, Kaepernick’s former college teammate, said his friend hopes to bring continued awareness and further advance the conversation on race. Kevin Livingston, an activist who staged a smaller rally for Kaepernick in May, said there is no finish line; that “Colin won already” by forcing people to rethink the national anthem.

Boyer, the former Green Beret and college football player, has a different theory: that there was no long-term plan; that Kaepernick, an introverted man who now stands at the center of one of the most controversial issues in America, has once again thrust himself into the in-between.

It was last summer when Boyer wrote an open letter to Kaepernick, who until then had sat on the 49ers’ bench while the national anthem was performed, explaining the message Kaepernick’s actions sent to veterans.

“Even though my initial reaction to your protest was one of anger,” Boyer wrote in the letter published by the Army Times, “I’m trying to listen to what you’re saying and why you’re doing it.”

Boyer’s words reached Kaepernick, and the veteran’s willingness to listen felt familiar. Kaepernick himself collected the motivations of others, and so on a Thursday last September, the quarterback sent an UberX to transport Boyer the three hours to San Diego, where that evening the 49ers would be playing their final preseason game.

They met in a hotel lobby, and Kaepernick listened as Boyer shared stories from the battlefield and recovery rooms. The player had never thought of it from that perspective, didn’t know — before Boyer pointed it out — that the Chargers would be honoring current and former military personnel that evening before kickoff, hadn’t fully considered the passion and fury he was igniting on either side.

And as Kaepernick absorbed as he had so frequently done, he asked a question. “What can I do?” Boyer would remember Kaepernick asking, and Boyer suggested a few ideas.

Kaepernick liked one more than the others, and later that evening Boyer joined Kaepernick on the 49ers’ sideline and heard cheers from some pockets of Qualcomm Stadium and boos from others. As color guards unfurled an American flag and paratroopers descended toward the field, Boyer saw the coming moments as an important crossroads.

He hoped the quarterback next to him would reconsider his plan; how moving would it be, Boyer wondered, if Kaepernick remained standing? Then a moment later, with a Navy petty officer preparing to sing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” Boyer covered his heart and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Kaepernick drop to one knee.