Jason Jenkins was the Miami Dolphins’ eyes, ears and heart of the community | Opinion
Football season is upon us and, though I work in basketball, I’m thinking about the Miami Dolphins. More specifically, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Jason Jenkins, a 47-year-old married father of three and a veteran of the Dolphins’ front office. He died unexpectedly last August. The loss was as profound as the news was shocking.
As the Dolphins’ senior vice president overseeing communications and community affairs, Jason was, in effect, my NFL counterpart. It’s par for the course for those of us working in professional sports to think often of our in-market competitors and team rivalries. After all, we’re vying for much of the same fan mindshare, discretionary dollars and loyalties.
However, I’ve been thinking of Jason because, since I heard the awful news of his passing — the one-year anniversary is this month — I’ve realized that, although he was neither an athlete nor a celebrity; neither a titan of industry nor a politician, Jason’s work epitomized what we call “legacy.” And the one Jason left is massive: far-reaching in its scope, transcendent in its inclusivity and game-changing in its impact.
The truth is, I didn’t really know know Jason. At best, we were intermittent industry acquaintances with sporadic interactions throughout his 14 years at the Dolphins and my 23 years at the Miami Heat. There was the occasional ask for an autographed item for a fundraising effort; or a swapping of tickets for a friend or client; or the random referral he passed along through LinkedIn of someone who was soliciting our help.
At the start of the pandemic, Jason and I both were honored by the South Florida Business Journal with a Business of Pride award. We shared the June 19, 2020 cover of that weekly and were highlighted for being leaders in the LGBTQ space (me as an out LGBTQ woman and Jason as a straight ally).
“We have a great responsibility to do what’s right and embrace all of our community,” he said in that profile. That was the thing about Jason. He wasn’t a figurehead or a talking head or an empty suit. He understood the broad needs of the community and responded accordingly and authentically. Even with his executive title and position, he walked the walk every single day.
In fact, the last time I remember seeing him was in June 2021, at a Stop the Silence march. It was a soggy Wednesday afternoon, and a group of about 300 people took to the streets around downtown Miami —residents, activists, athletes, politicians, police and Jason, umbrella-less and in his blue business suit, which was thoroughly soaked — walking shoulder to shoulder in solidarity to protest gun violence, not just in Miami, but everywhere.
And, when the Dolphins pledged to deliver 1 million meals during the pandemic through their Food Relief Program, I saw daily posts and pictures on Jason’s LinkedIn page featuring him smiling widely, flanked by his colleagues, distributing food from minority-owned restaurants to the good people of South Florida.
Jason’s community-outreach resume was extensive and impressive. He helped raise more than $50 million for cancer research through the club’s revered Dolphins Challenge Cancer. He served on many advisory boards, including the Anti-Defamation League Florida, the YWCA Miami and the Urban League of Broward County. And he won awards — lots of awards — for being a visionary, an ally and a community pillar.
Jason was both the brains behind and face of FOOTBALL UNITES — which, true to its name, champions all types of people from all walks of life and connects them, for the greater good, through the power of sport.
In the year since Jason’s death, I’ve frequently deliberated on the notion of legacy, which, in our industry, refers to stellar performances defined by statistical excellence; winning multiple championships; or, as in Jason’s case, living a life so compelling, it transcends rivalries, brands and teams.
This mild-mannered, accomplished and tireless advocate raised that bar to new heights, inspiring so many of us to do more, do better and to be better.
I appreciate Jason’s work. I respect his character. I marvel at his dedication. He was a regular person with extraordinary reach, which he meticulously cultivated one handshake at a time.
To borrow from a Hollywood blockbuster: Jason was everything everywhere all at once.
Lorrie-Ann Diaz is Miami Heat vice president, business communications + social responsibility.
