Play Ball!

It's that time of year again and all is well, at least for the moment. Though some of us still prefer that baseball debut on an Opening Day, it will be Opening Night this evening in a Cardinals-Mets rematch of last year's NL Championship Series. The Cards played the Indians last night in the first-ever Civil Rights Game, an end-to-Spring Training affair held at the delightful AutoZone Park in downtown Memphis.

Why a Civil Rights Game? It is astonishing to learn from a recent study that only 8.5 percent of major league ballplayers today are African American (Associated Press, March 30th). It seems that the sport has lost its appeal with young African-American boys who prefer football and basketball, according to Richard Lapchick, director of the University of Central Florida's Institute for Diversity and Ethics in Sports, who conducted the study. Incredibly, 19 percent of players were African American as recently as 1995 and the number was well over 50 percent in the '70s.

Memphis' central role in the Civil Rights Movement made it the obvious site for last night's game. Several years ago, my son Jackson and I stood next to the Lorraine Hotel balcony where Dr. King was assassinated and astride the hotel room where he spent his last restless night after delivering the hauntingly beautiful Mountaintop speech. These are all components of The Civil Rights Museum housed in the old Lorraine, which was also a hangout for Stax Records sidemen of the time such as Booker T., Steve Cropper, Duck Dunn and Al Jackson.

Just as these members of Booker T. & The MGs broke the color barrier with an integrated band in the Mid-South, last night's Civil Rights Game underscores the truly heroic leadership of Jackie Robinson, Larry Doby and so many others. What is less known is that Cardinals' great Stan Musial refused to sign a locker-room petition circulated by teammates who did not want to play with Jackie, signaling the end to that nonsense. Dodger shortstop and Robinson teammate Pee Wee Reese refused to sign a similar petition and when, in 1947, Cincinnati fans were hurling verbal racist abuse at Jackie, Pee Wee visibly put his arm around the isolated 2nd baseman and made history. Musial and Reese responded to the leadership moment that often rises suddenly and unexpectedly.

Yes, there were heroic leaders between the chalked lines. Maybe they still exist today, somewhere. Our beloved David Ortiz here in Boston is a good man who makes many contributions to the community. Another Cardinal, Curt Flood, comes to mind. He single-handedly challenged the reserve clause that kept players in contractual bondage to team owners. There's Hank Greenburg who refused to play a game on Yom Kippur, not wanting to disparage the Jewish holy day. And there's Roberto Clemente who died trying to help earthquake victims in Nicaragua. (You can only really understand Clemente's heroic stature in his native Puerto Rico by visiting the Roberto Clemente Sports & Education Center in Carolina, PR. It's just a 30-minute drive from San Juan.)

MLB Commissioner Bud Selig did something right with last night's Civil Rights Game. He reminded us of the essential role sport can play in leading social reform.

Memphis Redbirds action at AutoZone Park in 2003.

Mexico vs. The Dominican Republic in the 2004 Caribbean World Series at Clemente Stadium in Carolina, PR.