Ground Under Repair

Courtesy: Golf Link.com

“Ground under repair” An area on the golf course considered unfit for play…normally marked by a … circle or by stakes.”

It’s “ground under repair”… American sport, that is. Just look at what’s happening away from the field:  there’s churn about social issues that surround the games. Discomfort with diversity figures prominently, the focus of this essay.

Consider Michael Sam’s recent announcement: he’s gay, something he shares with millions of Americans. Far from a ho-hum event, the admission created a stir. GOOGLE Sam’s name and you’ll get 1.5 million results, the majority posted recently and focusing on his sexual orientation. America is digesting an everyday reality: some athletes are gay.

While reaction within the NFL is mixed, anonymous responses from several General Managers (recorded and published by Sports Illustrated) is troubling. Sam’s draft status is likely to fall, some say, because his presence on a team is likely “to be disruptive” and could “change the chemistry of the locker room.” Those are code words for intolerance.

Just days earlier, Coca Cola’s multilingual rendition of “America the Beautiful”—a Super Bowl ad for which the company paid millions—was met with a rush of public response, a good share of it negative. Some people found the ad insulting: Coke, they claimed, was shoving multiculturalism down their throats.

But the “Ground under Repair” in American sports can’t be treated the way it’s handled on the golf course:  you’re free to move ahead without penalty. A penalty is paid for intolerance in sports—individually and for society.

None of it’s new, either: history tells us so. For evidence, let’s look at another diversity issue—African-Americans in two sports, baseball and golf.

Courtesy: PBS.org

Ken Burns’ PBS series, Baseball, traces the game back to its 19th Century roots. A theme that cross-cuts Burns’ work is the way baseball treated black ball players through the middle of the 20th Century.

Burns features the quest to break the color line in Major League Baseball. It’s the story about Branch Rickey and Jackie Robinson. Rickey, one of the game’s most inventive administrators (he established baseball’s first farm system), crafted a multi-layered, detailed plan to introduce men of color into the major leagues.

Finding the right person was the key and he hand-picked Jackie Robinson, a UCLA graduate. Robinson was a solid, all-around athlete; and he was a person of intelligence, maturity and character, too. Rickey knew Robinson would need to demonstrate superior athletic ability to stay on the field, and he’d also have to draw on inner strength to survive abuse from players and fans. He did both.

Courtesy: i170baseball.com

Robinson took the field on Opening Day 1947. But many other great black players—players like Josh Gibson, Buck O’Neil (my favorite), and Oscar Charleston—never had that chance. They played in the Negro Leagues with teams like the Pittsburgh Crawfords, the Kansas City Monarchs, and the Chicago American Giants. Segregated, away from the mainstream, they played mostly in front of black crowds except when barnstorming. America never saw them compete against the likes of DiMaggio, Cobb, Williams, and Ruth.

Golf went through the same experience; it just took longer to run its course. The story is well portrayed in a video documentary, Uneven Fairways (Moxie Pictures, 2009). The film is based on two books: Pete McDaniel’s Uneven Lies and Forbidden Fairways written by Calvin Sinnette.

One story is about Charlie Sifford, the first African-American to play on the PGA Tour. In 1952 Sifford was playing in The Phoenix Open, grouped in a foursome with other players of color. Sifford got a surprise after sinking his putt on the first hole: human dung was piled in the cup. “They didn’t want us in that tournament,” the understated Sifford said.

Courtesy: Glogster.com

Golf, of course, is a game of rules. Article III, Section 1, PGA Constitution (1960)—since abolished—reads:

“Male professional golfers of Caucasian race, over the age of eighteen (18) years, residing in North or South America, who can qualify under the terms and conditions, hereinafter specified, shall be eligible for membership.”

Exclusion: You’re black.

So, while all golfers know the names of Sam Snead, Arnold Palmer, and Jack Nicklaus—and of Lee Trevino (Mexican-American) and Tiger Woods (African-American), too—relatively few know the names of Bill Spiller and Ted Rhodes, tremendous golfers who never had an opportunity to make their mark on the PGA Tour. And while we all know about the PGA, there was also the United Golf Association (The UGA), the Negro League of golf. Just like in baseball, for years black men had to play in their own league.

Courtesy: PGALinks.com

Access and opportunity are twin pillars of The American Dream. What happens when you have neither? When you have little of either? It turns dreams to nightmares, vitiating the relevance of a basic athletic cry: “Show me what you have!”

Things are changing. The color line in baseball no longer exists. MLB even acknowledges that the percentage of African-Americans playing major league ball has dropped significantly—from about 20% in 1975 to about 9% on Opening Day 2013—and MLB wants to see that percentage grow. And Golf established “The First Tee” in 1997, a youth leadership and development program that has introduced the game to over 7 million kids. The program enables many urban youth (including kids of color) to learn a game that would be out of reach otherwise.

There’s an irony, though. It’s about how American sports have evolved since desegregation. Since the 1960s sport in America has shifted 180 degrees: from restricted access and opportunity to exceptional levels of both.

But ample opportunity to play hasn’t brought an end to diversity issues for African-Americans. Today they face new and different challenges—and they’re just as ornery. For an example let’s look at big-time college football.

In the December issue of The Atlantic Emily Richmond wrote a feature piece entitled “How college fails black football players.” For starters, Richmond looked at statistics from the top twenty-five Bowl Championship Series (BCS) schools. She found that fewer than 5% of the undergraduate students enrolled at those institutions are black males, but about 60% of the football players are black. And even though 3 out of every 5 football players are black, only 12% of those schools have a black head football coach or a black athletic director.

Courtesy: The Atlantic.com

Then Richmond looked at an outcome—graduation rates—using graduation within 6 years as a time frame. She looked at the success rate at schools that competed in 2014 BCS games (ten teams). Most of the schools had a graduation rate around 50% for black football players—except for two schools—Stanford (82%) and the national football champion, Florida State (37%). That’s right, the team that finished first on the football field finished last (among peers) in the classroom.

Where does all of this leave us? Change isn’t coming fast enough from within. What if more fans pressed for change?

That’s more easily said than done. Consider a pernicious dynamic in college sports. To raise critical questions about your school—what it may or may not be doing, especially if it’s not doing “the right thing”—is tantamount to committing treason, becoming “the enemy within.”

The alternative seems worse, though: mindless affiliation.  And silence means the status quo prevails. What can be done?

Become knowledgeable about social issues in sports. Reading Dave Zirin’s work is a good source (in The Nation and The Edge of Sports). Talk about social issues with friends. Write a letter to the editor. Call a sports talk show. Email a column (like this one) to a friend.

Take a stand. Raise the collective level of awareness.

Sports teams and leagues at all levels put great energy into competing more effectively on the field—to win. That’s understandable. But they also need to get more serious about tackling social issues that surround the games they play.

They’re doing some of that already, but it’s not enough.

The ground is under repair.

ENDNOTE: I give a special nod of gratitude and appreciation to my associate and friend, George Rowan of Michigan State University, longtime president of the MSU Black Faculty, Staff, and Administrators Association. For years George saved careers, solved problems, and represented colleagues and the University intelligently, passionately, and with distinction. A good share of the situations involved Spartan athletics. At times he was a statesperson and at other times he was a political force. His intent, though, never changed: to be a champion of people. Michigan State is a better place because of him.