WEEKEND SAYS MUCH ABOUT RACE IN AMERICA
A fine man memorialized, while a bigot reveals himself on Facebook.
Racism invaded my home Saturday night. It slithered under my front door, crept up the carpeted stairs and plopped down right beside me. It wormed its way onto my computer screen the same day Austin said goodbye to a Major League great while the country witnessed the nasty hate crime in Virginia.
A former colleague revealed himself to be a bigot in extremely ugly fashion, providing a surreal ending to a day that ran the gamut between grief, joy, love and hate. When a white man calls a black man the N-word four times with 500 or so people watching — even if it was just on Facebook — it will garner a passionate reaction. More on that unfortunate soul later. The day began on an inspirational note, at Don Baylor’s funeral. The Austinite received a hometown hero’s homegoing at Greater Mount Zion Baptist Church. It was a morning of music, laughter and tributes from some huge names, including Hall of Famer Frank Robinson. Eric Young, who played for Baylor when the Colorado Rockies hired him to be the franchise’s first manager, called “Groove” the father figure he needed to have while pursuing his Major League dream.
To call the memorial service star-studded wouldn’t do it justice. Kirk Bohls and I sat two seats from legendary Yankees manager Joe Torre and several rows behind another managerial genius, Tony LaRusssa. Hall of Famer Rod Carew was in the house as well as Austin-born Super Bowl champion Thomas Henderson. Sitting in front of us was coaching legend Augie Garrido.
Longtime teammate Bobby Grich believes he and Baylor were the first pair of interracial roommates in MLB history.
“It didn’t matter to us,” Grich said. “We didn’t make a big deal out of it. He disproved the old adage that nice guys finish last. In the 50 years since I first met Don, I have never, ever heard a bad word said about Donny Baylor.”
Grich, 68, spoke of Baylor as a lover of life, a man who set an example of inclusiveness and decency when it came to the treatment of everyone he came across. They came up together in the 1960s, smack dab in the middle of the Civil Rights movement in America, a time of turbulence, uncertainty and, in black neighborhoods, hope after centuries of being considered second-class citizens. With baseball as their common bond, they began a friendship that spanned six decades.
In a word, the Baylor service was heartwarming and easily the highlight of a day that soon headed south.
As the news broke that a 32-year-old woman had died after being hit by a car driven by a white supremacist during the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Va., Twitter and Facebook did the predictable reactionary dance. I joined in, posting on my Facebook page: “Bigots are so emboldened nowadays. Heartbreaking video coming out of Charlottesville, Va. Hatred no longer hides behind hoods and sheets. They’re out there for the cameras to see. We need to chase those losers back into the holes they crawled out of.”
That former colleague of mine was a respected writer for the Tyler Morning Telegraph for several years, and often would visit us in sports to talk college football, especially about his beloved TCU Horned Frogs. That was back in the mid-1990s and I was a pup in the business who was beyond giddy to work with older role models like Phil Hicks, Paul Stone and Olin Buchanan, white men who remain some of my closest friends.
That colleague joined in on the Charlottesville discussion on Facebook with a comment that quickly drew several “WTHs” because he inferred that nearly all black people are middle class. That wasn’t nearly as offensive, however, as the four times he called me the N-word.
I tried to take the high road, but I couldn’t resist calling him an embarrassment. I was disappointed that someone I’d worked with and respected had revealed himself to be a bigot.
What I didn’t expect were the dozens of comments that came from friends of all races, colors and creeds, including my boss, who couldn’t hide her disgust with the bile coming off his fingertips.
My wife wanted me to take down the thread, but something inside me was telling me to leave it up. I’m glad I did; it has served as a teaching lesson for young and old alike. A couple of friends said they even showed it to their children to drive home the lesson that there are people like him out there, waiting to pounce.
He’s now a father in his 60s, and I can’t help but wonder if his personal beliefs have filtered down to his children or, even worse, his grandchildren. Bigotry is the worst kind of family heirloom. It’s passed down from generation to generation and sometimes the people in those families find it easier to go with the flow rather than stand against injustice and unfair treatment.
It’s why I will go to the grave believing that any athlete, entertainer, teacher or firefighter that has the ability to use his or her position as a platform to promote social change should do so.
And if that’s not your bag, why not just practice a life of peace and acceptance like Don Baylor? That helps build our communities as well.
The world could use more like him.