This story appears in ESPN The Magazine's Dec. 26 / Jan. 2 issue. Subscribe today!

In the final months of 2016, which saw the year transform from tumult into crippling clarity, an authoritarian image for an authoritarian time stood out as definitive: the spectacle of sports, particularly every Sunday in the NFL. The veneer of patriotism baked into the sport's DNA created an appearance of unity and oneness designed to obscure cultural divisions and intimidate dissent.

The truth is that the year could not have been less clean, less unified. When the flags flew, black football players knelt. So did WNBA players, white and black, protesting American racial conditions as a team. So did Megan Rapinoe of the U.S. women's soccer team, members of which fought their own governing body for improved working conditions and equal pay, for footing commensurate to their win totals.

Sports were played in 2016 along the fault lines of race and gender and class, each increasingly inescapable, but instead of engagement, the sports machine responded with more flags and more flyovers. African-American athletes -- from headliners Colin Kaepernick, Carmelo Anthony and LeBron James to the lesser known like Eric Reid, Kenny Stills and Kenny Britt -- embraced their standing as the most historically visible and prominent black workers in the country, but their star power did not build understanding for the unfortunate classes that are the target of police, government and societal aggression.

Instead they were met with an energized opposition; many of the predominantly white season-ticket buyers and members of the media reacted to protests with increasing fatigue. They were intractable, largely disinterested in the grievance of police brutality, preferring to explore the anger at the popular, though false, narrative of black anti-Americanism. Fans wanted less kneeling and more touchdowns, for their home team or their fantasy team, telling the players they cheered to stick to sports, even as they were surrounded by more politics -- more police, more military, more obedience on game day.

When the games were played, they were brilliant, and it is the ebullient play that so often saves the sport from itself, its front offices and its fans. The year will be remembered for Kaepernick's awakening but also for Rajai Davis providing the exhausted Cleveland Indians one last miracle, and for Kris Bryant making the most enjoyable throw to first that the Chicago Cubs have experienced in a century. It will be remembered for Kris Jenkins and Villanova, 73 Golden State Warriors wins, a spectacular mandate and a subsequent spectacular fall. There was James, just when it appeared he did not have another gear, hitting supernova and fulfilling more of his destiny. There were Serena Williams and Andy Murray and Sidney Crosby and, in a welcome surprise, Phil Kessel and Angelique Kerber. There was the mortality of the athlete, as Peyton Manning went out on top, Kobe Bryant went out at the bottom of the standings and Tim Duncan, as was his trademark, went out quietly. The David Ortiz victory tour ended a transformative era in Boston.

There was also tearful, inevitable mortality. Muhammad Ali's last breath stirred the atmosphere of the game in a way the play on the field could not, reminding the black athlete that his legacy as player and citizen was not something to be exchanged for money or safety or something as vapid as troll avoidance. As the year drew to a close, the urgency of that responsibility was illustrated by another dead man, 50-year-old Walter Scott, killed by South Carolina policeman Michael Slager. It was captured on video, with Scott unarmed and running away from Slager, and Slager shooting him in the back anyway. But even clear video of a citizen being killed was not enough to convict a policeman who unnecessarily took a life. A jury could not bring itself to a unanimous verdict, and Slager's case ended in a mistrial, though prosecutors have stated they will attempt to retry him.

It is this, the stunning lack of accountability, the insulting lack of collective outrage -- and not an attack on patriotism or the flag -- that explains why these athletes kneel, why they do not shut up and play. It explains the T-shirts, the interlocking arms, the defiance. It also explains why all players did not in 2016 -- and likely won't in 2017 -- rise to their feet and actually become one.