Lemme share...
Riding back from Norfolk last week, I heard sports journalist Scott Van Pelt declare on his radio show that baseball had lost it with the America. I don't have actual quotes to offer, and I assume he was speaking from his own opinion; but he cited several reasons for the decline of baseball's popularity over the last 30 years. All of which were valid points as to why this sport is quickly losing it's luster among the common American household, and I second the notion that baseball hasnlt been the national pastime for a while now. Still, in the usual fashion where national issues manifest itself in the African American community first, the vanishing baseball trend has been on light speed here.
Several years ago I read an article in Jet that gave reasons as to why baseball wasn't as popular as basketball and football among Blacks--and one of the reasons that stuck with me to this day was that baseball was not individualistic enough for black athletes. The article claimed that in sports like basketball and football, there are more opportunities for athletes to have "showtime" moments where they can shine without the team. I don't know how true that is, but I somewhat understand the assumption. There are also arguments that point to equipment issues and field space. I also know that baseball is the only sport out of the three major American sports that have urban U. S. roots (basketball and football have origins in field sports from ancient South American cultures). Of course, this is widely unknown. But there was such a time...
During the summer days around middle June, the Babe Ruth recreational programs (another type of Little League Baseball Program) selected the best players of their leagues as "All-Stars" and grouped them to compete in tournaments against other leagues. Playing for racially diverse Chamberlayne-Laburnum, we had some pretty intense battles against Highland Springs, Glen Allen, Sandston, and other programs whose players were mostly white at the time. But we all couldn't wait until the game against Metro Richmond- the city team. In a double-elimination tournament we would itch to play them; because it was nearly a guarantee that we would wipe them out.
This was almost certainly a win on the schedule because the all-black team was not well-coached, didn't have many great players, and we knew it. The equipment they used was also inferior to most of the teams in the state as well, and the only good thing they had going for them was the type of heart that only inner city life can produce. What was somewhat challenging, however, was that many of the players were our friends. All of them were from the 'hood, and some of them were even real street cats. Now of course there are no friends between the chalk lines, so we could beat them 100 times out of 100 and it was all good. But it was obvious in our young minds that the reasons they sucked as a team had nothing to do with baseball, but it had to do more with the adults who were leading them in life. Some of us felt a little bad, even guilty about that; and so in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I began to shape in my thoughts that the inner city black baseball player was just...existing. That because of the attractive glow of basketball and football, if you happened to enjoy playing baseball in Richmond City then you needed to have a connect with Henrico or Chesterfield--especially if you wanted to play high school ball. Otherwise you would suffer through losing seasons in the spring and summer. And is there a worse way to destroy a child's self esteem by than acclimating him to losing?
I was able to take part in a wonderful experience around 17. In an attempt to bring back the excitement of baseball in the inner city, Major League Baseball formed a league called RBI--Reviving Baseball in Inner cities. Along with the league, they created a country-wide tournament that crowned a national champion each summer. Metro was able to field a team, but they got smart with it. Instead of just pulling from within city limits, they stepped outside, recruited the best [Black] players that were available to them that lived close enough to the city, and then had tryouts. Interestingly enough, some of the kids that played for Metro for years didn't make this team; and at tryouts not only did I knew I was going be a part of this squad (and start), but I knew we had something special.
Our first season we scheduled all of the programs that fielded teams in the Babe Ruth and Little League leagues to prepare for the state RBI tournament. We slaughtered all of them, even many of the white teams that were seen as superpowers. We capped that season off with a National Regional Championship and then were National Finalists the following year. But what was most interesting was the talent level around the country of inner city kids playing baseball. Unheard of in Richmond, some of the most talented baseball players I have been blessed enough to see were from the toughest 'hoods in the nation. But instead of being dope point guards, they were ill pitchers and shortstops. I played against and with many college and pro ball players from the bottom at a time (and it still is that time) when if you were from the bottom you don't leave athletically unless you "got a wicked jump shot (Notorious B.I.G., Things Done Changed, 1993). To this day the Richmond Metro squad of 1995 and 1996 were the best times of baseball I ever had, and I got love for all of my teammates to this day.
Not to plug the sport, but a with a career potential three times longer than football or basketball, brain injury risk cut by almost 80% than football, and a higher on-average salary, I can't see why the game is fading. I guess its more about the show than the substance. Or maybe what we teach our kids what we want them to play instead of letting them discover it for themselves; possibly because of the assumed glory at the end of the road. Who knows.
I have an interesting relationship with baseball, and because it is a sport that emphasizes mental discipline and physical control, it saddens me that it's not doing for the American community what it did for me.
Just some thoughts.
Peace.
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