It's a bit like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg. That's how complex the answers are to the question of what triggered the disconnection between the African-American community and the game of baseball. And there's enough blame on both sides of the equation to circle the bases.
As we celebrate the 60th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking Major League Baseball's self-imposed color barrier, it is more than appropriate to look at the state of the game from an African-American perspective.
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This may come as a surprise to many who have never stepped foot into a Major League ballpark or watched a game on television, but there was a time when African-Americans loved baseball. Historically, this affinity for the game goes back to the late 1800s fight after the Civil War as Blacks began to land on rosters of White professional teams. Segregation, Jim Crow laws and a "gentleman's agreement" would ultimately ban that participation, but not our passion for the game.
Then in 1920, Andrew (Rube) Foster, owner of the Chicago American Giants, took matters in his own hands. The man known as the "Father of Black baseball" established the Negro Leagues during a meeting of eight independent Black baseball team owners at the Paseo YMCA in Kansas City, Mo. That first season, more than 400,000 fans attended Negro Leagues games.
Black baseball professionals became icons. Kids aspired to be the next Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige, Cool Papa Bell or Buck O'Neil. There was rampant interest in the game. We played baseball in the city and in rural communities. We played in the streets and on sandlots with makeshift bats, balls and gloves. Black churches had leagues and Black businesses gave kids an opportunity to play.
Robinson's barrier-breaking milestone changed the game and our society, but it also signaled the demise of the Negro Leagues. And while Major League teams eventually jockeyed for the competitive advantage of adding Black stars to their rosters, Black fans were never warmly welcomed. Chicken wire barriers and limited segregated seating diminished trips to the ballparks. Social pressure forced those barriers to crumble, but new, subtle barriers were erected as teams began to build stadiums in suburban areas, making access to the ballparks difficult for urban dwellers.
As a result, the community's emphasis on baseball began to dwindle. All of a sudden, the sport that had led to so many opportunities, and in some respect, was a symbol of hope, was no longer seen as a "way out." Basketball and football quickly filled that void.
Today, the interest in the sport is virtually nonexistent. Last season, African-Americans represented roughly 8 percent of Major League Baseball players, an all-time low.
It's no longer institutional racism that is responsible for this dramatic decline. I genuinely believe that Major League Baseball wants the absolute best athlete it can attract and are getting them from around the globe. But in this case, the demand is greater than the supply.
Some will question why Major League Baseball hasn't invested in the African-American community the way it has in Latin America? The answer is simple. Those countries provide a base of youngsters who's first and only love is baseball. Until we can effectively demonstrate that same passion for the game, it will be difficult to convince baseball to invest resources for player development.
If we are to effectively reverse this alarming trend, the game has to become relevant in the African-American community again. So much so, that the community begins to invest in places for kids to play.
The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum (NLBM) is making that investment. It starts with introducing thousands of urban youngsters annually to people who "look just like them" that played the game as well as anyone. And, by supporting community programs like Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities (RBI) that introduce kids to the game. But our greatest investment will undoubtedly be the building of a Negro Leagues Baseball Academy, a state-of-theart, year-round indoor training facility, that will be a part of the future $15 million John (Buck) O'Neil Education and Research Center.
Those courageous men and women who played in the Negro Leagues endured and overcame great adversity to play baseball in this country. They refused, however, to allow that adversity to kill their love of the game. Their pride, passion and perseverance not only changed the game, but America too.
In the final analysis, it really doesn't matter who presumably turned their back first, because our differences are not irreconcilable. Regardless, we should have never allowed anyone to steal the joy of this great game. We should rekindle that love and pass it down to our children. In the spirit of the Negro Leagues, they deserve the opportunity to "play ball!"
Bob Kendrick is Director of Marketing/Asst. to the Executive Director for the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum.
COPYRIGHT 2007 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2007 Gale Group
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