Ways of Grace

by James Blake

  Law enforcement, not unlike any other organization, is composed of many different types of people with vastly different personalities and points of view. There will always be a few bad apples, spoiling the rest of the bunch. I don’t think for a moment that those officers are representative of the entire police force. That the officers in my case made a decision to stand together to protect each other could be indicative of a shared mind-set and an attitude that should have no place in the police department. I’m hoping that bringing awareness to my experience will be a catalyst to start a dialogue about law enforcement and how our officers—our public servants—police us. I am hoping it can start a discussion about creating more checks and balances, protocols that protect our officers and also the public they serve.

  In January 2017, the US Justice Department conducted a thirteen-month investigation into the Chicago Police Department and found that “excessive force was rampant, rarely challenged and chiefly aimed at African-Americans and Latinos.”4 The headline of the 2017 New York Times article about the investigation read “Chicago Police Routinely Trampled on Civil Rights, Justice Dept. Says.” The article reported that “a blistering report by the Justice Department described far-reaching failures throughout the Chicago Police Department.”

  During trials for wrongful death, police misconduct, or excessive force, having an independent, unbiased special prosecutor is crucial. Because of the unsettling Justice Department findings of discriminatory law enforcement practices, every police department in the country should require all of its officers to undergo annual diversity, sensitivity, and bias training.

  The Kirwan Institute for the Study of Race and Ethnicity at Ohio State University defines implicit bias as “the implicit associations we harbor in our subconscious[, which] cause us to have feelings and attitudes about other people based on characteristics such as race, ethnicity, age, and appearance. These associations develop over the course of a lifetime beginning at a very early age through exposure to direct and indirect messages. In addition to early life experiences, the media and news programming are often-cited origins of implicit associations.”

  It is crucial that our police officers think twice before using excessive deadly force in their interactions with the public. We must train them to be sensitive, unbiased, concerned, and nonjudgmental when interacting with people in the communities they serve. If not, we must put in place oversight and accountability, because right now there is no real incentive for officers with a history of misconduct or excessive force to change how they interact with the public.

  It is also just as imperative for me to take something positive out of my experience, to create something uplifting and affirmative from it. I don’t want to ask “Why me?” Instead, I want to use what I have, to incite change in myself, and in the world, in any way I can. That’s what I learned from Arthur Ashe. He taught me that in a good situation, you try to help others. In a bad situation, you try to find a way to make it better. There’s always going to be someone who is less fortunate. You can find a way to help them, and in so doing you will help yourself and the world. Hopefully you will even inspire others to do the same.

  My perception of the world was changed irrevocably that sunny September afternoon I stood outside my hotel. What has also changed is my perception that there is nothing I can do to prevent the indignity of what happened to me from happening to someone else. The best way for me to do that is to continue on the path carved out by my predecessors and stand shoulder to shoulder with my colleagues, to use my voice and my platform to advocate for change, even in the smallest way. To that end, I am going to use what I have, to do what I can.

  1

  Early Trailblazers

  Accidental Activists

  Issues of race, inequity, inequality, and civil rights dominated the headlines in 2016. The start of the Black Lives Matter movement, social protest against police brutality, and the polarizing racial and religious rhetoric that reached a tipping point after the 2016 presidential election placed us at a crossroads in American history. Subsequent divisive policies that affect education, health care, gender equality, immigration, and religious freedoms also emerged as dividing issues. In response, athletes across the country were compelled to use their voices to engage with the public to raise awareness of and advocate for social change.

  In the final months of 2016, there was a rise in sports activism in society, and the role of athletes in regard to activism and social justice has changed drastically within the last year. Their role is particularly pivotal today. We have seen historically how athletics have intersected with change and activism, particularly during integration, the fight for gender equality, and marriage equality. We know that athletes have been able to create and incite change in a way that resonates and has positive impact.

  Sports and the sports community do not exist outside the broader context of society. Some of the social issues that affect society have also affected sports; for instance, racial bias, gender inequality, and homophobia. When athletes speak to these things, they speak from a position of authenticity, because these issues affect them as well. When we think back to Muhammad Ali, John Carlos, and Tommie Smith, they understood what was going on in society because it affected them. When they used their platform and their voice, they were not speaking out about something that they did not understand or could not relate to.

  In the face of today’s social divisiveness, we are seeing the advent of what has been called the accidental activist. However, athletes inciting change has been around since athletes started integrating sports and women began their fight for equal rights. Historically, in professional sports, and in almost no other arena to the same extent, athletes and sports stars have publicly broken racial and gender barriers, at times simply by being in the game. As long as sports have been played, issues of discrimination and inequality have played a part and the athlete has found him- or herself in a public position to take a stand (or not) and start a discourse about inclusion and equality.

  Many of us are familiar with the well-known trailblazers like Jackie Robinson, and even a few of the less well-known “firsts” like the baseball players Fleet and his brother Welday Walker, or the football players Kenny Washington and Woody Strode. Yet when we think about the women who fought for equality and changed how female athletes were viewed in sports—which at the time were geared to and run by men—usually only a few names come to mind, like the tennis legends Althea Gibson and Billie Jean King. There were many others who are not as well known but were just as instrumental in fighting for women’s inclusion and representation in sports. Gertrude Ederle was the first woman to swim the English Channel, Shirley Muldowney was known as “the First Woman of Drag Racing.” Babe Zaharias was one of the preeminent female athletes of the twentieth century and dominated in several sports. A three-time Olympic gold medalist, Zaharias was an all-around athlete who competed in basketball, golf, tennis, billiards, diving, and bowling. Julie Krone, the winningest female jockey of all time, was the first woman to compete in the Breeders’ Cup, and the only female jockey to win a Triple Crown.

  These early trailblazers were accidental activists who incited change simply by competing in their sport and being damn good at it, regardless of the color of their skin, their religious affiliation, or their gender. They changed the hearts and minds of America at a time when not only sports but the world was divided by race and gender. To understand the evolution of activism in sports, we have to go back to the beginning, to a time not so long ago when athletes were not consciously trying to change society. Rather, they were simply seeking equitable treatment and opportunities in the sport they loved to play—but in so doing they ended up changing history.

  “A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.” Jackie Robinson lived by his words when he publicly broke Major League Baseball’s color barrier in 1947. He opened the doors to players of color in the majors. Each year on April 15, every team celebrates Jackie Robinson Day in hon
or of his contribution to the sport. Robinson is a particular hero to me. I was a Jackie Robinson scholar for the two years I was in college, from 1997 to 1999. It was so inspirational when all the scholars got together once a year in New York. They were all so impressive and had different experiences at universities all across the country, which they shared. It was invaluable to hear their stories and realize the similarities and the fact that there was still diversity among the scholars and attendees. Jackie Robinson’s widow, Rachel Robinson, an esteemed activist in her own right, was always a part of those weekends, and she was as graceful and full of wisdom as you would expect from the life she has led.

  Even before Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier, he was an activist for equality. In 1944 Robinson was arrested and court-martialed during training in the army for refusing to move to the back of a segregated bus. He was eventually acquitted of the charges and received an honorable discharge.

  Robinson joined the Kansas City Monarchs as a part of the Negro Leagues and played second base until the Brooklyn Dodgers’ general manager, Branch Rickey, decided he wanted to integrate baseball. Rickey wanted Robinson not only for his talent, but also because of his behavior on and off the field. Robinson did not drink or smoke, and he’d married his high school sweetheart, Rachel. He was also a calm and focused man and baseball player. Rickey knew Robinson would have a tough time playing during the Jim Crow era, but he believed he could handle it without becoming unnerved or distracted on the field.

  Rickey was right: there was a lot to handle on the field as a black player in the 1940s. Robinson endured threats from spectators and from his teammates. The players who taunted him were not reprimanded, nor did they face suspension or punishment. That was just one of the many double standards that players who integrated sports faced. Though Robinson was scorned by some of his teammates and openly harassed by opposing players, he never lost his temper or his focus. To be able to play baseball at that time, he had to practice restraint. Had he retaliated or done anything divisive or unsportsmanlike in his first year or two, the consequences could have been extremely severe for him. Instead, he endured the taunts with dignity and grace as he made history.

  In 1945 after leaving the Monarchs, Robinson joined the Montreal Royals, which at the time was the Dodgers’ top minor-league team. The Royals were not disappointed. In 1946, led by Robinson, attendance at the Royals’ games almost tripled over that of the previous year. Over a million people came to watch him perform that year, an amazing number for the minor leagues at the time.

  In 1947 Robinson was promoted to the Dodgers and made his Major League entrance on April 15. His was the most eagerly anticipated and dreaded debut in the history of the sport. It represented to blacks and whites the hope and the fear of equality. Robinson’s stepping out on the field that day forever changed the complexion of the game. At the end of his first season, Robinson was named the Rookie of the Year. He was named the National League MVP just two years later, in 1949. The Dodgers won six league pennants and one World Series in Robinson’s ten seasons, but his contributions extended far beyond the field and still resonate today.

  Jackie Robinson is perhaps the most historically significant baseball player ever, ranking with Babe Ruth in terms of his impact on the national pastime. Ruth may have changed the way baseball was played, but Jackie Robinson changed who Americans thought should play. A man of many firsts, Robinson was also the first black player to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

  Historically, to be an accidental activist is to strive to be great at something and then to be thrust into a social conflict. For me, accidental activism has taken a different form in the sense that today, as athletes, we find ourselves in situations that we did not anticipate. Then, as we go through it, we realize that our voice can make a difference.

  Jackie Robinson knew what he was up against when he accepted Rickey’s invitation to play in the majors. When I had my incident in New York I had no idea that I would become a national spokesperson against the use of excessive police force. The same with Colin Kaepernick, who before the start of this season, after witnessing another “innocent” person videotaped being killed by law enforcement, decided to use his voice and platform to draw attention to an issue that deeply affected him and also a large segment of the country. I am sure he had no idea how polarizing his protest would be. Many athletes realize that we have a platform that others do not have, but we also realize that we have an obligation to use it.

  Many fans know of Robinson’s contributions, but he was not the first African American to play in the majors. A less well-known baseball player changed the game before Jackie Robinson electrified the baseball field, sparking both awe and anger. Moses Fleetwood Walker, often called Fleet, was really the first African American to play Major League Baseball, in the nineteenth century. In 1884, the Toledo Blue Stockings had two black players—catcher Fleet Walker and his brother, Welday, an outfielder. That year, the Blue Stockings moved from the minor- to the major-league level when they joined the American Association. On May 1, Fleet played against the Louisville Eclipse, and officially broke the color barrier of Major League Baseball.

  Between May 1 and September 4, Fleet played forty-two games for Toledo. However, he did not get the opportunity to show what he could do on the field before being taken off the team due to racism. Welday appeared in only five games with Toledo, and Fleet had one of the highest averages on the team.

  Both Walker brothers were outspoken about equality and at times brought lawsuits against businesses that discriminated against blacks. In 1888, Welday wrote a letter to Sporting Life, decrying discriminatory treatment in the Tri-State League. His letter, published in the March 14 issue, was addressed to the league’s president, a Mr. McDermitt:

  Sir: I take the liberty of addressing you because noticing in The Sporting Life that the ‘law permitting colored men to sign was repealed, etc.’ . . . I concluded to drop you a few lines. . . . It is not because I was reserved and have been denied making my bread and butter with some club that I speak. . . . There should be some broader cause—such as want of ability, behavior and intelligence—for barring a player than his color . . . ability and intelligence should be recognized first and last.

  Jackie Robinson suffered through terrible harassment while playing baseball. But it barely compares with what Fleet Walker suffered during the one season he played with the Blue Stockings. Walker endured shouted insults on the field and racial discrimination off it. One of Walker’s teammates with the Blue Stockings, a pitcher named Tony Mullane, stated that Walker “was the best catcher I ever worked with, but I disliked a Negro and whenever I had to pitch to him I used to pitch anything I wanted without looking at his signals.” Despite being an asset to his team, he found it not uncommon for his teammates to not throw the ball to him or include him in the game, which only hurt the Blue Stockings. After Welday and Fleet Walker played their last games for Toledo, no other African American would play in the major leagues until Jackie Robinson, sixty-three years later.

  Well-known professional football teams didn’t have any black players until 1946, when Kenny Washington and Woody Strode, friends and teammates, played for the Los Angeles Rams, and Marion Motley and Bill Willis played for the Cleveland Browns, Motley as a fullback and linebacker. A versatile athlete, Motley dominated on both offense and defense. He was a well-rounded player who was large but also quick on his feet. Fellow Hall of Fame running back Joe Perry once called Motley “the greatest all-around football player there ever was.” A trailblazer, Motley was one of the first African Americans to play the professional game in the modern era.

  Frederick Douglass “Fritz” Pollard played in 1920 for the Akron Pros. Pollard was named after the abolitionist Frederick Douglass, who was born a slave. Pollard played in the NFL when it was still called the American Professional Football Association (APFA). Along with Bobby Marshall, Pollard was one of the first two African American players in the NFL in 1920. Pollard also serve
d in World War I. As a star athlete at Brown University, Pollard became, in 1916, the first African American ever to play in the Rose Bowl. He later led the Akron Pros to the APFA championship in 1920. In 1921, while still a running back, Pollard became the co–head coach of the Pros. The following year, he became the first African American coach in the league.

  Strode, Washington, and Jackie Robinson (a truly versatile athlete) were all backfield players for the UCLA Bruins in 1939. At this time, neither the league nor the fans were ready for integration, and these trailblazers were heckled and taunted as soon as they hit the field. Washington was also a decathlete who enlisted in the army air corps during World War II and later became an actor. In 1960 he was nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor for his role in Spartacus.

  The first black player drafted by an NBA team was Chuck Cooper, picked by the Boston Celtics in the 1950 draft. The Washington Capitols chose Earl Lloyd of West Virginia State. At about the same time, the New York Knicks signed Nat “Sweetwater” Clifton from the Harlem Globetrotters. Lloyd made his debut on October 31, 1950, becoming the first African American to play in an NBA game. Cooper made his debut a day later. Clifton, the first to sign a contract, played his first game on November 4, 1950.

  These trailblazers became activists by integrating their sport. Their battle beyond being allowed into the major leagues was then to change the hearts and minds of the fans, the members of the rival teams, and, quite often, their own teammates. Being able to focus on your game and getting support from your teammates and fans is as instrumental to an athlete as being in top form to play. I cannot imagine the type of determination, drive, and will to succeed that these stellar athletes had to have had during the early years of integrating sports. Well known or not, they all bore the burden of creating inclusion while changing history along the way.