Baseball Needs Black Dollars, Not Players

Dave Winfield is a dinosaur and he knows it. The Hall of Fame outfielder has been very public lately about his concern over the disappearing black baseball player. He's out touting his latest book, "Dropping the Ball: Baseball's Troubles and How We Can and Must Solve Them," which includes a chapter titled, "The Last Black Major-Leaguer."

"Baseball combs the world for prospects and revenues," Winfield told Reuters last month. "It cannot afford to forget the fans and prospects in the U.S."

The 12-time All-Star was a great all-around athlete in his youth. He probably could have been a 12-time All-Star in the NBA, as well. But pro ball had no juice in the 70s. So he chose the game that was then still the Great American Pastime: baseball.

Back then, 28 percent of major-league players were African American. In recent interviews, Winfield cited an audit of the 2005 major-league season, which revealed that only 8.5 percent of the players that year were black. "The game I love," he's been quoted as saying, "is hurting."

Indeed, it's almost easier to find a black player in the NHL than it is to locate one on a major-league roster. And Winfield isn't the only one lamenting declining numbers of African-American players in the game that meant so much to our parents' generation. During spring training, Cleveland Indians pitcher C.C. Sabathia cited the loneliness he felt as an African American in his own locker room and called the diminishing baseball-playing brother a "crisis." When I posted his comments on my blog -- Ballers, Gamers and Scoundrels -- it prompted a flood of comments in support of his view.

But I have to be frank. I don't get all the hand-wringing over baseball's fade to white (or, more appropriately, fade-to-brown, considering how the percentage of Latino players has soared in that same span).

It's not as if baseball has re-imposed its color ban. Or that top black ballplayers are being ignored by major-league scouts. No African-American athlete is being denied the opportunity to reach for The Show.

I know brother Sabathia's pain. I've worked in offices with so few blacks I thought an alarm would sound if more than two of us stopped in the hall to talk, or gathered in one of our offices. But while I continue to be enraged at the lack of opportunities afforded African Americans in areas like sports media, especially at the executive and managerial levels, I find it hard to get all worked up over the dearth of blacks in major-league baseball.

The dearth of black team executives? Yes.

The diminishing number of black managers? Yes.

The disappearing black player? Wake me when the ump says, "Play Ball!"

If we're going to rattle the sports arena for its policies and practices that adversely impact African Americans, let's go forward and reach higher -- breaking new ground in ownership, management, coaching and media.

Rather than rail about whether some kid will be able to defy the odds against him suiting up for the Yankees, let's ensure that the kid and his classmates will be able to "play ball" as scouts, trainers, accountants, marketers, agents, attorneys, assistant coaches or any of the myriad opportunities that exist outside the lines in football, basketball and major-league baseball.

All that said, I understand the angst held by people like Winfield, Sabathia and others. I also understand (and appreciate) why Jimmie Lee Solomon , MLB's executive vice president of baseball operations -- and the highest-ranking black executive in professional sports -- has made it his personal mission to ensure that baseball does all it can to prevent Winfield's "Last Black Major-Leaguer" from ever becoming a reality.

MLB's baseball academy in Compton, Calif. was his idea. As was his first-ever Civil Rights game, which took place just before the start of the regular season in Memphis, not far from the Lorraine Hotel, where the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King was shot. The weekend featured an awards dinner and panel discussions on the state of people of color in the sport.

Let's be clear, however. Baseball's aim isn't merely to stem the decline in the percentage of black players. Even more, the sport needs (and wants) black dollars.

Baseball is not blind to the lack of blacks in the stands at major-league parks -- which I blogged about during the World Series last fall. Flipping that trend is perhaps an even higher priority.

"They are intertwined," Solomon told me last week, "We've had a long heritage with African Americans, and to let that go without trying to re-establish the linkage is silly. Of course, we want fans."

Solomon noted that the academy, which attracts players from throughout the area -- and teams from urban areas across the nation --doesn't merely teach stick-and-ball stuff to its participants. The curriculum includes educational and vocational tracts, and there's an umpire school. MLB hopes that even if a young player never reaches the majors, he'll at least become a fan. "And buy a T-shirt or a cap," Solomon says.

Don't expect immediate effects. MLB is certainly aware that its efforts must be sustained and that the next Barry Bonds (oops), uh, Ken Griffey, Jr. or Dontrell Willis may have been born yesterday.

"It took 30 years to get here," Solomon said. "We'll keep our initiatives going regardless of whether the trend continues to go down. We'll do all we can to ensure that major-league baseball remains the national pastime -- for everyone."