Baseball? That Ain't Hood

It's a warm Saturday in Oakland, Calif., but you couldn't tell by looking at the baseball diamond at the rec center in Sobrante Park. There is only an old man watching a Little League game not being played.

Never mind that just down the street is the birthplace of baseball Hall of Famer Joe Morgan, while a short distance away at Bushrod Park all-time runs and stolen bases leader Rickey Henderson developed his devastating blend of speed and power. In Oakland, the story is the same as in other inner cities: empty playing fields and a declining number of black youths taking interest in America's Pastime.

Morgan and Henderson were part of a wave of black success that peaked in the '70s. Starting, of course, with Jackie Robinson's arrival in the big leagues and the subsequent arrival of Negro Leagues stars like Satchel Paige, a slew of these black heroes inspired the youth.

"African Americans, following their heroes, began filling the ranks of baseball, reaching a high of 175 players on 25 teams in 1975," wrote sports reporter Jake McDonald on BlackAmericaWeb.com. Yet, "since [Hank] Aaron's final [record-setting home run] blast in 1976, the faces of African Americans have disappeared steadily. Once upon a time fans looked forward to seeing Mr. October Reggie Jackson come to the plate. Jackson, one of the most colorful players of his era, retired ten years after hitting a record five home runs in the 1977 World Series. Just about every little leaguer, including myself, wanted to be just like Jackson, right down to the shades."

Today, with football and basketball dominated in numbers and star power by black athletes, major league baseball looks more like the MLB of 1960, when Dominicans and Cubans first began flooding into the then mostly white leagues. Today, American-born blacks comprise only 13 percent of the league -- about 90 players-- and the numbers are projected to continue falling as foreign-born Latinos dominate the lineups of most of the best teams.

Some African-American athletes and fans are furious about this decline. At a time when black men continue to be incarcerated in epic numbers, any decline in the number of positive role models or positive activities for young people is seen as contributing to a vicious cycle plaguing America's poor black communities. However, not everybody agrees about the reasons for African Americans' move away from baseball, or even if the shift is worth reversing.

Morgan, arguably the best second-baseman to ever play the game, is one of those frustrated at the decline of urban baseball. In an interview with Frank Deford, Morgan said many African Americans have been excluded from baseball because there aren't enough inner-city playing fields to foster the game among urban black youth.

Psychological theory, however, suggests that a park alone can't inspire a young athlete, that what is needed is a solid mentor to lead him or her. Still, Morgan is working on solving at least half the problem by urging Major League Baseball to fund nonprofit groups called Breaking Barriers: In Sports, In Life, and Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities (RBI).

In line with McDonald's analysis, I find the role model theory compelling: Young African Americans began abandoning baseball in large numbers in the 1980s, exactly when flashier black athletes were rising to megastardom in football and basketball. Michael Jordan, with his high-flying dunks and wildly popular line of shoes, especially epitomized the intoxicating blend of money, talent, power and fame that kids wanted to copy.

It's easy to see why baseball would lose a fight to football and basketball in the category of "Showtime" in an increasingly celebrity-obsessed culture that sees success as measured by the ability to move product. Through the '80s and '90s, African American baseball stars like the ever-quiet Tony Gwynn and the awesome but subdued Joe Carter had to compete with the likes of the NBA's Jordan and Magic Johnson and NFL glamour boys Deion Sanders and Michael Irving. These showy players just had more appeal.