By Mark Lassiter

Around 2002, St. Louis based-rapper Nelly fueled his career on a hit anthem about Air Force Ones. It was a minor revelation to me that this was an ode to a Michael Jordan Nike basketball shoe.

Air Force Ones was an anthem of aspiration for young black men about owning an expensive pair of $89.95 Nike’s. In the song, Nelly and the St.Lunatics praise and purchase Air Force Ones. The song followed Run DMC’s 1986 hit, My Adidas, another classic rap ode to footwear.

“I said give me two pair… I need two pair
So I can get to stompin’ in my Air Force Ones.”

Sports influence culture, and sports fans-particularly such high-profile, influential fans as Jay-Z-provided global validation by wearing Air Force Ones on stage, in videos and in concert appearances. Once rap artists started talking about them, any national marketing campaign sponsored by Nike was purely coincidental.

Nike declines to release sales figures, but one analyst from a research and data firm in Charlotte, N.C. that follows the sporting-goods industry estimated that about 12 million pairs of the Air Force Ones were sold at their peak in 2005, and 10 million to 11 million were sold in 2006.

You do the math.

My rite of passage to manhood included crossing the fashion threshold from unmarked, flat-soled, canvas tennis shoes, known on the block as “skips,” to an authentic sports shoe similar to those professional basketball players wore. Back in the day, the shoe of choice was an expensive $9.95 pair of Converse All-Stars. We aspired to play ball like our heroes. My parents provided steady support but also warned me to study.

“… someday you could be President…” suggested my mother, Dorothey Lassiter.
“… yeah right,” I replied.

My white high-top Converse All-Stars came in a highly detailed brown shoe box that was a keepsake in itself. I remember a deliberate and slow walk home, with the Converse box tucked under my arm, hopeful that my friends would be playing outside, just to witness my prized possession firsthand.

That Converse box housed letters from pen pals and my baseball card collection until I left for college. The thrill of purchasing my first pair of “Cons” was better than the rush of buying my first automobile.

“Ok, I treat my shoe like my ride
chrome on the fat laces at what wood on the inside
spray candy on the swoosh”

In 2002, Air Force Ones was the third Top 5 hit from “Nellyville” on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 , peaking at #3. For me, the song had a catchy hook and deep bass downbeat that you could bob your head to.

Today, there’s a whole new beat…

The only way I could prepare myself for The Inauguration was to see for myself. What would the confirmation of January, 2009 feel like? Days after the election, I needed to walk past The White House just to wrap my brain around the historic popular vote.

Imagine a crisp fall afternoon stroll in downtown DC, from the Farragut North Metro Station to The White House, just to soak up the new vibe on the South Lawn. While the Presidential helicopter warms up its rotors, you can munch on a hot dog from one of the vendor trucks, waiting for President Barack Hussein Obama to glide across the lawn and wave goodbye.

The Washington DC Park Police stop traffic on Constitution Avenue, as a Sikorsky VH-3D (Sea King) helicopter gracefully lifts off the ground and swoops over the trees on its way to Andrews Air Force Base in Suitland, Maryland. Waiting at Andrews is a Boeing 747-200B series aircraft with Air Force designation VC-25A, otherwise known as “Air Force One.” And then, we witness history: the moment the President steps aboard.

The White House hosted a poetry jam on Tuesday, May 12, a clear signal of a new beat emerging from the nation’s capital.

Could other such bright moment force young black popular artists to look at their aspirations in a different light, or will it matter at all? Will the significance of owning the latest basketball shoe on the market begin to shrink in the bright light of greater expectations?

And could Dorothey Lassiter’s outrageous teaser about the possibility of becoming president resonate deeper than we dare imagine?

Mark Lassiter is a marketing consultant who has also worked telecasts of college football for Fox Sports Net South, a loyal fan of The New York Knicks and a regular at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.