Not Today — Baseball Bench Coach

July 16, 1985. I remember that morning so clearly. I was in my downtown St. Louis office on top of the world. My new job was going well and our first baby was expected in two months. Yet, a deep gloom came over me as I sat behind my desk, so much that I began to sob uncontrollably. I shut my office door, embarrassed, and trying to figure out what was going on. Then it hit me; it was the fifth anniversary of my brother’s death. I knew that I couldn’t work that day. My mind wasn’t there. I made an excuse of being suddenly ill and went home. As I reflect on the recent decisions by some MLB players and teams not to play in protest of the Jacob Blake shooting, my thoughts turn to this day some 35 years ago in my life. I will never be able to step into the shoes of the players and fully understand, but I do know that we have one thing in common. Not today.

Jason Heyward, Cubs right fielder, was one of those players. He sat out of Chicago’s August 26 game against the Tigers, a decision supported by team president Theo Epstein, his manager David Ross, and his teammates. Heyward, an 11-year MLB veteran, exudes leadership. If you’re a Cubs fan, he will always be fondly remembered for his rallying speech during the 17-minute rain delay before the 10th inning of Game 7 of the 2016 World Series. But he’s much more than that. In an era where the percentage of black players in the MLB is diminishing (1980 – 18.7% of MLB players were black; today – 7.7%), Heyward stands tall as the kind of person we would want all of today’s young fans to admire. Indeed, this past week the Cubs nominated him for the 2020 Roberto Clemente Award. Sports Illustrated also did a fascinating piece called “Heyward on Life, Business and the State of Race” (August 31). The article provides a close-up of Heyward off the field, including his becoming the first black professional athlete investor in Turn2Equity, a portfolio of businesses designed to continue the growth of baseball as our national pastime.

J-Hey would be proud of all of his baseball brethren in history, no matter the skin color, who took a personal stand in the face of public demand for his presence on the field. Sandy Koufax, the Los Angeles HOF pitcher who dominated the game in the 1960s, often had an October dilemma as his Dodgers competed in the World Series. It was usually during the holiest of seasons for his Jewish religion, the High Holy Days. The first game of the 1965 World Series indeed fell on Yom Kippur, and Koufax decided not to pitch. His Dodgers lost to the Twins that day, 7-1, but Koufax gained the respect of all fans in baseball and people throughout the country for his personal commitment to his faith. What’s interesting about Koufax is that although this missed Game 1 World Series start is the one we remember, he also requested to skip his turn in April 1959 due to it falling on the first night of Passover and in 1961 and 1963 since the starts fell on Rosh Hoshanah. Not today.

Last week Aaron Boone, Yankees’ skipper, aptly described the 2020 baseball season and all of the events surrounding it, a “hard, heavy year”. Playing in the face of COVID-19 has been of course also one of the challenges for MLB players. Buster Posey, Giants’ veteran catcher, 2010 NL Rookie of the Year, 2012 NL MVP, and three-time World Series champion, is probably the biggest star to opt out, and rightfully so. His wife Kristin and he adopted twin baby girls this summer, and Posey made the personal decision to protect his family. In his words: “We feel this is the best decision for our babies.” A handful of other players followed, and the message was clear. While baseball is their job, please respect their personal decisions to wait until it is safer to play. All baseball fans look forward to Buster’s return to behind the plate next season.

Baseball is certainly a sport that individual play and statistics receive much attention and accolades. Yet, most often we find that those teams that have players who accept their roles and support each other are the successful ones. During the first half of this season, the Cubs have received some flak about their “rah-rah” style of cheering each other from the dugout. I actually find their dugout behavior to be refreshing in a time when we all could use a little fun and passion. In the aftermath of Jason Heyward’s decision to not play in the game against the Tigers, there was much commentary about whether his Cubs teammates should have joined him in sitting out. Heyward dismissed that notion, one, because he urged his teammates before the game to play, and two, the organization as a whole supported his decision. Salaries of some executives, coaches, and players were donated to the Players Alliance, a group of more than 100 current and past black players to increase opportunities for blacks in baseball.

The relationship between players and fans has also been put to test this year with no crowds in the ballpark. Maybe instead of cheering at the ballpark, we can express our support in other ways, such as accepting players like Dexter Fowler and Jack Flaherty of the Cardinals, and Matt Kemp of the Rockies, and teams like the Mariners and Padres, and Dodgers and Giants, all who decided to stay away from the field. One of the more poignant boycotts was that of the Astros and Athletics, whose players asked for a 42-second moment of silence before their scheduled game. The players stood along their respective base lines and then together draped 42 jerseys on each side of the batters box and a BLM shirt across home plate (see photo at top). The players left the field; not today.

On the same Friday night that the Astros and Athletics decided not to play, baseball began its rescheduled celebration of Jackie Robinson Day. (See “Uncomfortable Truths”, 04/20/2020.) August 28 was chosen because it was the date in 1945 when Branch Rickey met with Jackie to discuss breaking the color barrier, and it was the anniversary of the 1963 March on Washington. Every manager, coach, and player wore the jersey 42 during the entire weekend, and perhaps never so importantly.

In today’s world of us vs. them, I must admit that I struggled with writing this article. Should I reach beyond the game and give my take on current issues or just be a baseball guy who stays in his lane? I was buoyed by a July Nielsen study that 59% of sports fans “expect athletes to personally help progress the BLM movement”. I also found Jason Heyward’s insight on how he is feeling to be helpful: “Putting it all out there. I would say at the end of the day, everyone came back to the conclusion of, no, we’re family, we’re together.”

I was deep in thought about the story last weekend while I was riding my bicycle. I made an error in judgment on how fast an incoming car was coming, and decided at the last second to turn my bike over a curb and into the grass. I fell clumsily, but wasn’t injured nor was my bike damaged. I sat there on the grass, again embarrassed. I then saw a woman get out of her car to check to see if I needed help. I assured her I was okay, and also thanked her. This is the world I want to live in, to think of each other as family, to be together. Jason Heyward is a person I admire, not just today but everyday.

Until next week,

your Baseball Bench Coach