White Is Right Costs Too Much

WHITE IS RIGHT COSTS TOO MUCH

Using Baseball To Raise Black Boys Into Manhood

By C. J. Stewart with Sophia Catchings and Harold Michael Harvey

THERE ARE MANY REASONS BLACK KIDS ARE NOT PLAYING PROFESSIONAL BASEBALL.

Conventional wisdom says the cost of the game is out of reach for Black kids. This is definitely true for the Black boys we serve in the city of Atlanta. While the cost of baseball can be a formidable obstacle to overcome, Black players encounter a far more taxing cost than financial burden in their pursuit of competing in America’s favorite pastime—the loss of their Blackness.

I work with many Black boys, and they tell me they do not want to play baseball because it’s a White man’s game. There are also cues in the game that tell them baseball no longer belongs to them. The pitiful numbers of African American baseball players at the collegiate and professional levels demonstrate that there’s likely no future in this game for them. Still, like a lovestruck beau, Black boys have a heart for the game and the desire to play it. Unfortunately, for some, the burden of hiding their cultural heritage, their swagger, and their African Americanness is too much to bear. Without guidance and mentorship, many Black boys opt out of the assimilation that the game requires in order for African American players to be successful. Being “openly Black” can get a player labeled as “not having the right stuff to make it in baseball,” or being a “problem in the clubhouse.”

I contend that discussions about the financial costs of baseball for equipment and training, while valid are not the only discussions to be had when speaking of Black American numbers in the game. Race permeates every system in our country and denying its weight on the game is a sign of ignorance and soon-to-be stupidity.

Being “openly Black” can get a Black player labeled as “not having the right stuff to make it in baseball.

I define ignorance as something that is not known. Stupidity is knowing the truth but not doing anything about it.

Discussions require us to make decisions. The decisions about getting more African Americans in baseball usually favors those already living a life of privilege as middle to upper-middle class citizens.

On the other hand, a dialogue evokes conviction that can lead to the empowerment of White executives, scouts, and coaches among the collegiate and professional ranks to model, authorize, and extend respect and trust to Black players who want opportunities on the field and in baseball’s front office.

Those who have power, must be the ones to empower.

In Atlanta, if you are born into poverty, you have a 4% chance of making it out in a town that ranks #1 for racial income inequality.

Like Martin Luther King, Jr., Vernon Jordan, and Maynard Jackson, I was educated in Atlanta Public Schools.

Today, there is a financial investment of approximately $15K per year for each student in Atlanta Public Schools. Juxtapose that to the cost of $120K per year to house a child in the Georgia Department of Juvenile Justice System.

Low-income African Americans have a different and more detrimental life experience than middle and upper-middle-class African Americans.

I do not believe Atlanta will become a worldclass city or “Wakanda” until hundreds of thousands of Black males live a sustainable life of significance.

The late civil rights advocate, Rev. Dr. C. T. Vivian, believed that jobs in baseball were a way to improve the economic lives of Black boys in the inner city. He devoted a portion of his last years to developing a pipeline from poverty in urban America to the major leagues. His plans were not ready to be launched before his final illness.

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MY ORIGIN STORY

I was born into financial and relational poverty in Atlanta, in 1976 at Henry Grady Memorial Hospital. I am a Grady Baby, meaning I was born African American and poor. Middle and upper-middle-class Black Americans in Atlanta had other options.

My childhood heroes included Martin Luther King, Jr., U.S. Ambassador Andrew Young, Jackie Robinson, and Henry “Hank” Aaron.

C.J. Stewart

I dreamed of becoming a well-known and wellrespected man who used athletics, baseball, and activism to improve the lives of African American people.

I fell in love with baseball around the age of 8. My grandfather watched the Chicago Cubs’ day games on WGN-TV. Summers were hot in Atlanta, so we would sit in the room and watch the game with the air conditioning roaring. We didn’t talk about the game or our favorite players, we just watched it together. Harry Carey was the famous Cubs announcer and I knew his voice well. My mother said that at age 6, I was already saying I wanted to be a pro baseball player.

I played youth baseball at Cascade Youth Organization (C.Y.O.) in the 1980s in southwest Atlanta. The men mentioned above would be present at several of my baseball games except for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., of course. These men lived in the neighborhood where I played. Baseball was a huge part of Black culture.

One of my first youth baseball coaches was Emmet Johnson, Sr. He was also the Chairman of the Atlanta Public School’s Board of Education at the time.

At 14, I met Coach T.J. Wilson. He was a veteran Atlanta Police Department officer known for discovering hidden gems in Atlanta’s baseball community. I was preparing for my first year at Westlake High School—Coach T.J.’s daughter was a senior and his middle school son was preparing to join the Westlake baseball team the following year.

I guess you can say Coach T.J. was scouting players to play alongside his son in the future.

I’m glad he found me. Within weeks of meeting him, I received professional baseball training at an indoor facility in Forsyth County with a man named Denny Pritchett. I had my first professional workout with the Cubs, and with the right team being assembled around me, I was inching closer to fulfilling my dream of being a “Cubbie.”

I signed a baseball scholarship with Georgia State University and was drafted by the Cubs during my senior year of high school.

My life is an example of how great things can happen when your talent is an asset combined with advocacy and access. Coach T.J. is one of the primary reasons why I lead, and examples of how I lead in Atlanta as the Chief Empowerment Officer for L.E.A.D. Center For Youth (Launch, Expose, Advise, Direct).

Now, I am committed to using my success to serve others. That’s what significance is all about.

African American boys deserve and need access to the best people and resources.

I am among the best baseball hitting coaches in the country. I am a case study on how to make it out of poverty in the inner City of Atlanta and live a life of prosperity.

With success, I too had to deal with the pressure to assimilate to whiteness in order to succeed. There is a cost, beyond money, for African Americans in baseball.

So, if money is not the answer, what is the solution?

Baseball today is White led and thus White cultured. We accept this as a fact of life, but with racial equity in leadership comes the responsibility to be inclusive.

When I was a teenager, I began to wrestle with whether I should continue to feed my desire to play baseball. I felt that I would have to suppress my Blackness to make White people feel comfortable around me. Why should I have to do that? No other cultures have the same dilemma. When I see foreign, Black players draped in their countries’ flags during baseball championship wins, it makes me wonder how a Black American player would be perceived if he was draped in an American flag and PanAfrican flag to pay respects to his ancestors and heritage.

Some African American boys are conscious of this exchange and acceptance by way of assimilation, and some are not. It is most damning for the ones that aren’t aware because they are playing “mind games” with themselves. For many, they are only allowed to win at the expense of not being openly Black.

I had to wear my hat a certain way when playing for White coaches. My pants were tucked in perfectly, as required; no facial hair allowed; don’t talk too loudly; say yes and no sir; hustle all the time; bunt the ball this way; wear this to the locker room; listen to this music; don’t publicly protest racism; and so on.

We must have a new dialogue about the cost of baseball for African Americans. While money is a sufficient component, changing the culture about how Major League Baseball views the Black American player is more important. I firmly believe that once Black boys feel they can be themselves on a baseball diamond, they will return to the game in droves.

Jim Bouton,

the early 1960s, wrote in his book Ball Four, that when it came time to trim the roster near the end of spring training, he would get a haircut in hopes of making the opening day roster. Black boys know this syndrome far too well.

There are too many expectations put on Black boys in baseball that have nothing to do with playing the game. It’s far past time to welcome Black culture into the sport again.

When Jackie Robinson broke the “color barrier” in 1947, it changed baseball’s culture. By 1989 baseball had gotten too “refined” for Black kids growing up in the post civil rights era, and Black players, to their chagrin, received encouragement to discard their culture. Even Ken Griffey, Jr., was criticized for wearing his hat backward during batting practice.

As we approach the first quarter of the twentyfirst century, there is another generation of Black youngsters ready to spark a new style in the American pastime. Our more prominent, more talented athletes want to return to baseball if only the game would welcome them to be their honorable, respectable, authentic selves.

a former New York Yankee pitcher in

WHAT IS THE SOLE OBLIGATION OF AN ADULT, MENTOR, EDUCATOR, PROFESSIONAL, OR LEADER?

Many would say to pay it forward, reach back, and enlighten others with the knowledge and skills you have gained through life experiences. I agree with this 100%, but I would raise a few questions.

Can we pay it forward and allow others to be their authentic selves as they develop? What about once they have reached a level of confidence or competence? Would they have to conform or diminish themselves to what others think is correct and acceptable in order to be celebrated?

Throughout my life, I have experienced systems, methodologies, and influential societal organizations tailored to those in dominance or majority. Should one have to pay the cost of losing themselves to achieve and sustain the quality of life one deserves?

Diversity, equality, and inclusion are words used by many organizations today, but we only see them demonstrated on the surface. As Director of Education and Career Services of the Hopes and Dreams Program, I hope to build lasting developmental partnerships with organizations that value these words and apply them in their daily practices to benefit boys and young Black men.

Growing up as a kid and even in adulthood, we believe in those that play significant roles in our lives. The people who help us establish our identities, see our potential, and chase the goals and dreams that they have set for us or that we have set for ourselves. During this time of development, it may not be clear that there will be limits to expressing our identities, utilizing our full potential, or achieving our goals and dreams.

Diversity includes acknowledging the differences of others. Equality is seeing everyone as valued, in the same ranking, or having the same abilities. Inclusion implies that no matter your ethnicity, race, social standing, economic status, or origin story, you have a right to be a part of a team, organization, group, or activity and show up as your true self. If these words are substantial in organizations, and not just for show, then the harsh realities of discrimination can be diminished.

As L.E.A.D. prepares Black boys for the next level in life, it is essential to teach them how to navigate a world where people subjectively view them as insignificant, because of their race. Establishing self-identity links one to foundational principles and values that will not waiver when opportunities arise that are contrary to self identifying beliefs.

Why is self identification an important area of focus for our guys? It motivates Black boys to hold on to who they are in the planning and creating of a future for themselves and their families. No matter the opportunity presented, if one must lessen oneself or make significant changes to who they are, their distinction is neither valued nor important.

Through L.E.A.D.’s programming, our boys participate in experiences that expose their potential, heighten their self awareness, and provide a blueprint for application throughout their lifetime.

We create a positive learning environment for Black boys through the intentional use of various resources—academic support, professional baseball training, mentorship, and sponsorship—that develop social emotional learning (SEL) capacities within them. With the discipline of sports based youth development (SBYD) we harness the power of baseball and the life lessons it teaches, with the aforementioned resources, so that the educational and athletic potential of the inner city Black boys we serve can be just as great or greater than athletes from families with higher socioeconomic status or less melanated skin.

Being Black and poor in American society can be a death sentence. This is not hyperbole. Statistics in health, wealth, education, housing and economics show that Black people living in poverty rank at the worst ends of these categories.

At L.E.A.D., it is our duty to empower Black boys to lead and transform themselves and Atlanta by using baseball to teach them how to overcome three curveballs that threaten their success: crime, poverty, and racism.

Our paradigm includes self-assessment methods (which identify and activate their strengths), building upon existing knowledge and skills, and acknowledging the impact of their culture in the world.

When no one cares or believes in their ability, the practice of self-advocacy will also be their portion.

The various processes we embody equip them to stand during adversity, grow through life lessons, and believe in their hearts that they deserve to have a seat at the table or on the field. This belief should not be arbitrary, but embraced and enforced throughout our societal systems.

At L.E.A.D. Center For Youth, we scout the counted out—Black boys born into poverty in Atlanta who are underperforming in the areas of grades, attendance, and behavior.

Our boys look up from ground zero of the American dream, where her “purple majesty” cannot be gleaned. A place where “hope unborn, has died,” and dreams are things of fairy tales.

In spite of the challenges that exist, we proudly serve 250 Black boys with excellence; removing the barriers that keep them from living lives of success and significance. In partnership with their parents and guardians, we help them map out a game plan for life. At 250 boys, our reach is minimal, but our methodology is tested and scalable.

C. J. Stewart is a former Chicago Cubs draftee. He and his wife Kelli Stewart are co-founders of L. E. A. D. Center for Youth (Launch, Expose, Advise, and Direct) in Atlanta, Georgia. Stewart is on a mission to empower an at-risk generation to lead and transform their city of Atlanta by using the sport of baseball to teach Black boys how to overcome the three curveballs that threaten their success: crime, poverty, and racism. cj.stewart@leadcenterforyouth.org

Sophia Catchings is the Director of Education and Career Services with L.E.A.D. Center for Youth. She comes from a family of athletes and played recreational and school associated sports. Catchings has also served as Team Mom and in other capacities for her children’s youth sports for many years. sophia.catchings@leadcenterforyouth.org

Harold Michael Harvey is the Living Now 2020 Bronze Medal winner for his memoir Freaknik Lawyer: A Memoir on the Craft of Resistance. He is the author of The Duke of 18th & Vine: Bob Kendrick Pitches Negro Leagues Baseball and writes feature stories for BlackCollegeNines.com. Harvey is a member of the Collegiate Baseball Writers Association, H.B.C.U. and PRO Sports Media Association, and the Legends Committee for the National College Baseball Hall of Fame. Harvey is also an engaging speaker. hmharvey@haroldmichaelharvey.com