“Willie Stargell gave you amphetamines?” Renfroe asked.
“Yes, when he played for us,” Berra responded.
Stargell told the Washington Post, “It’s not true. That’s about all I can say about it.” Madlock refused to respond, saying, “I don’t have anything to say about anything like that.” But he added, “A lot of those guys up there are trying to get some people mentioned to take the monkey off their back.”29 Two days later, Dave Parker—Stargell’s former long-ball protégé—also testified that Stargell and Madlock provided him with amphetamines. Stargell referred to the allegations as a “dead issue.”30
On September 20, the jury of nine women and three men found Strong guilty of selling cocaine three times each to three players—including Parker, who was then with the Cincinnati Reds—and twice to former Pirate John Milner. The jury acquitted Strong on one count each of selling to three players, and two other counts were dropped at the request of U.S. Attorney J. Alan Johnson. In October, another defendant, Shelby Greer, pleaded guilty to seven drug trafficking charges. All told, seven men either were convicted of or pleaded guilty to selling cocaine to players.
The hits kept coming that fall for Stargell. On October 2, a public-private partnership assembled by then–Mayor Richard Caliguiri announced it had reached a deal with the Galbreath family and Warner Communications to buy the Pirates for $22 million, assuring that the club would remain in Pittsburgh for the near future. The partnership announced that Malcolm “Mac” Prine, president and board chairman of home-building giant Ryan Homes Inc., would serve as the team’s president and chief executive officer. Ryan Homes was one of a dozen or so groups involved in the partnership, which outbid a group that included Tanner. The Pirates skipper expressed disappointment at the time but said, “The final thing is the team is staying here.” Tanner said he would talk to the new owner and that his future with the club would be “dictated by what the new owner says to me.”31 Within a week, Tanner was gone—a decision he described as mutual. “They didn’t want me, I didn’t want them,” Tanner said. “I didn’t want to come back. We’ve resolved the issue and I’m happy for that. They could have kept me on hold and I appreciate that he (Prine) didn’t do that.”32 Stargell publicly expressed an interest in Tanner’s old job as manager, but within two days of Tanner’s departure, the Pirates announced that they had ruled out Stargell as a possible new skipper after the former slugger met with interim GM Brown. “He told me that he hoped someday to be ready but that, at present, he was not ready to manage,” Brown said of Stargell. “He has not applied for the job and I would be amazed if he did.”33
Within a week, Stargell had himself a new job—serving as first-base coach and specialized hitting instructor under Tanner, who agreed to a five-year contract to manage the Atlanta Braves. The first time Stargell would pull on a Braves jersey would be the first time he donned the uniform of another organization besides the Pirates. That fact was not lost on Stargell after the announcement became public. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have mixed emotions, because I’ve been here for so many years,” he told the Atlanta Constitution in an interview from his Pittsburgh home. “But I have the chance to be with someone I admire and respect, Chuck Tanner. I want to do everything I can to help him with a new organization. I had some other calls, but I wanted to stay with Chuck.”34 He told John Clayton of the Pittsburgh Press that leaving the Pirates was “like going through another divorce. The city and the people here mean a lot to me. It’s a real love affair. It is something a grown man has to deal with. As I’m departing, I will take a towel with me and be loyal to Chuck Tanner, just like I was loyal to the Pirates.”35
While Stargell was getting used to the idea of being something other than a Pirate, he received some good news—in late February 1986, Commissioner Peter Ueberroth meted out punishment to those involved in the previous year’s Pittsburgh drug trial, suspending seven players, including Parker and Berra for a year, but allowing them to play if they donated 10 percent of their salaries to drug-prevention programs. Four other players were suspended for 60 days, but their suspensions would be held in abeyance if they followed specific guidelines issued by the commissioner.36 At the same time, Ueberroth exonerated Stargell of any wrongdoing, saying that he was “wrongly accused” of giving amphetamines to players. In a written statement, Ueberroth said “there is no wrongdoing on his [Stargell’s] part.” When asked if that meant criminal wrongdoing, Ueberroth responded, “I mean any wrongdoing. Willie Stargell had no wrongdoing. I looked at it eight ways from Sunday and somebody was out of line.”37
The next month, during spring training in Florida, Stargell was busy trying to get comfortable wearing that new jersey and working with his old boss, Tanner, who defended his decision to bring Stargell south. “They didn’t want Willie in Pittsburgh,” Tanner said. “On the last day of the season, I told him that he’d be with me. The new people there complained later that I took him. And I said I took Willie Stargell when he was unemployed in Pittsburgh. Now, he’s my first-base coach.”38 Stargell told the media during spring training that even though he had expressed an interest in the Pirates’ managing vacancy after Tanner left, deep down he knew he wasn’t ready, based on his half-season experience as a base coach under Tanner in Pittsburgh. “I’m dumb enough to know you have to be qualified and need to spend time doing these things,” he said. “I learned a lot last year.” He said he got a different view of the game from the dugout and from watching Tanner manage. “It was like falling in love again,” Stargell said. “I saw a part of the game that really intrigued me, got my curiosity going.” Media members brought up the Pittsburgh drug trials and in particular Berra’s claims that Stargell had provided him with amphetamines. “It was a tough year, and everybody tried to deal with it and go on with their lives,” Stargell said. “The only thing that really hurt me [about Berra] was that here was a guy I had gone to war with, accomplished so much with. For him to say that was mind-boggling. I’ll never understand that.”39
The 1986 campaign was a season of firsts for Stargell and one of the more surreal ones took place on May 26, when he trotted from the Atlanta dugout to the first base coach’s box at Pittsburgh’s Three Rivers Stadium, wearing the Braves’ uniform. His presence elicited a standing ovation from the crowd of 14,102. “I was absolutely moved,” Stargell said later. “Embarrassed again. When you have a day like that, it’s just tough to talk about. There isn’t a word to describe that particular moment. I didn’t know how to act. If I could have hugged every one of those fine people, I would have.” Seeing as how that would have been impossible, Stargell instead tipped his cap and took a bow. He admitted it wasn’t easy to go from the Pirates’ black and gold to the Braves’ red, white and blue color scheme. “I had to think about it a lot,” he said. “I’ll never forget what happened here. I’ll never forget the Pirates or the people here. But life is all about growing, and experiencing new things, and that’s what I’m doing.”40 Stargell said he would continue to root for the Pirates. “I enjoy those kids. That’s what I enjoyed most about last season, working with those young guys. That, to me, is what coaching is all about. If you want to give something back to the game, you go to the young players and say, ‘Here I am. I have a world of knowledge and I want to share it with you. Maybe I can help you enjoy your career as much or more than I did mine.’ That’s what I’ve tried to do.”41
A little less than halfway through the season, Stargell talked once again about his managerial aspirations, saying that he had been getting exposure as a coach to several key facets of the game that would come into play as manager—personnel meetings, contract meetings, etc. “It is like getting the necessary education before you graduate from college, before going on about your career,” he said. He addressed the idea that the upper levels of baseball management might not want a black manager and said he would be sad if that were indeed true. However, Stargell said he didn’t believe that was the case because of the quality of people in baseball.
“Once I get the qualifications for being a manager, should somebody tell me that because of the color of my skin they don’t feel they should hire me ... I’m going to be real disappointed with the game because of the commitment I have made to it,” he said. “I’ve studied the game from a player’s standpoint long enough to know, though, that you really have to be color blind.”42
Despite the optimistic start, all did not go well for the Braves in 1986, as they finished last in Tanner’s first year as manager with a 72–89 record. The next year was even worse, as Atlanta fashioned a 69–92 mark, including an abysmal 27–53 road record. The 1987 season also was marked at the outset by inflammatory comments made by Al Campanis, vice president of player personnel for the Los Angeles Dodgers, who on April 6 appeared on ABC TV’s Nightline to help observe the 40th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking baseball’s color barrier. The visit ignited a firestorm, as Campanis essentially told a national audience that blacks might not be qualified to serve in high-level baseball positions. “I don’t believe it’s prejudice,” Campanis said. “I truly believe that they may not have some of the necessities to be, let’s say, a field manager, or perhaps a general manager.” Campanis apologized for his remarks, but the Dodgers wasted little time in asking for—and receiving—Campanis’s resignation. The episode also served as a launching point for scores of people to weigh in on whether blacks were receiving a fair shake when it came to being considered—let alone being hired—for high-level positions in baseball such as field manager and general manager. Ueberroth said he believed strongly in bringing more blacks to front office positions and that he would put his job on the line if necessary to improve the situation. “We have blatantly said baseball needs to improve [on blacks holding front-office jobs],” Ueberroth said on ABC’s Nightline just two days after Campanis had appeared on the same show. “If we didn’t intend to do something about it we would have ignored it. We’re going to do something about it.”43
Frank Robinson, the former Orioles Hall of Famer who became baseball’s first black manager in 1975 with Cleveland, said Campanis merely “was saying what a lot of baseball people think, and I’m glad it’s finally out in the open. Black people have to take hold and keep it out in the open. They have to make sure it just doesn’t get swept under the rug. This is something I’ve felt for years and haven’t been able to say because I had no proof. But now that’s been said, it’s out in the open.” Madlock—Stargell’s former Pirate teammate who by then had moved on to the Dodgers—said periodically people would talk about the lack of blacks in coaching and managing positions in football and baseball, but then the talk would go away. “I hope this time it can take it a little further and really get down to why there are not blacks in higher echelon jobs in professional sports,” Madlock said.44
Two managerial vacancies occurred during the 1987 season, but Stargell—and every other potential black candidate—was bypassed for the jobs. Joe Morgan, Stargell’s old acquaintance from the Bay Area, was upset that his pal was overlooked. Morgan said Stargell would be more effective than the vast majority of managers. “I know how good he is, how deserving he is, but ... maybe baseball doesn’t deserve Willie Stargell,” Morgan said of Stargell. “When he was playing, Willie Stargell was respected by every player. Every one.... All 599 other guys had respect for Willie Stargell, and there have been a lot of managers who’ve been hired the last couple of years you can’t say the same thing about.” Morgan expressed frustration at the pace at which baseball was moving to bring blacks into more meaningful positions—Campanis’s statements notwithstanding. “When did Campanis make those remarks—April?” Morgan asked at the end of June. “Everybody’s been saying, ‘We’re going to see change, we’re going to change.’ Well, I don’t see any changes.”45 Stargell would not bring race into the issue, though. “Clubs have different needs at different times,” he said. “Some are looking for a fiery manager at a given time. Others may be looking for a pitching-oriented manager. When the time comes that you fit the needs of a club, you’ll get a fair appraisal.”46
Campanis’s remarks and the subsequent outcry prompted Stargell and several other minority players, former players, coaches and managers to band together and discuss the current state of affairs with regard to underrepresentation of minorities in baseball. During the next two years, the group—which became known as the Baseball Network and also featured the likes of Frank Robinson, Ralph Garr, Dusty Baker and Billy Williams—began meeting with the representatives of Major League Baseball to try to expedite the process of getting more blacks and minorities into meaningful positions both in the dugout and in front offices.
Ray Burris, who won more than 100 games in the big leagues as a pitcher during his 15-year career, was among those involved in the Baseball Network. Burris said the group’s purpose was to make Major League Baseball aware of individuals who were interested in becoming a part of the game’s decision-making process. Burris said Ueberroth showed a genuine interest in instigating some changes, and as a sort of pioneer in the area of improving minorities’ chances of gaining a foothold in baseball outside the lines, Burris was pleased to be a part of the process. That’s because, down the road, he hoped to work his way into a decision-making position within Major League Baseball. “With all the years I had played, I felt I had a lot to offer with regard to my knowledge of the game and the business side of the game,” he said. Burris said the group went in with realistic expectations and so while the Baseball Network’s efforts did not trigger a tidal wave of minority hiring, the group did make a difference—at least in Burris’s estimation. “We had a lot of common ground, but we also had some disagreements and different beliefs and thought processes and we had to work through that,” he said of those who participated. “It all started with a sharing of ideas and then we had to fine-tune things. We needed to determine exactly what we wanted to accomplish and that was how to get blacks in baseball positions. We knew we weren’t going to start at the general manager position or start as an owner. Let’s be real. But we knew we could start at some point in an organization and hopefully have the ability to elevate ourselves as time went on. That was our goal.”47
Looking back some 25 years later, Burris said he believed the Baseball Network did make a difference. He pointed out successful managerial runs turned in by minorities such as Jerry Manuel, who piloted the Chicago White Sox to a division crown and four second-place finishes in a six-year stretch, and Dusty Baker—who led the Giants to the National League pennant in 2002—as evidence that men of color have made their mark in high places. In the front office, Kenny Williams has had a solid run as the White Sox general manager, and Tony Regins enjoyed his share of success as the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim’s general manager from 2007 until he resigned in 2011. “When you look at baseball and the sporting world in general, there’s been a lot of overall improvement, from managers to general managers to coaches to farm directors,” Burris said. “You’ve had a lot of growth in these areas. But I would be a fool to think every club in major league baseball is going to hire a black to be a general manager. That isn’t going to happen. So what is the percentage that is going to satisfy me? Or would satisfy a Willie Stargell? I don’t know. But if there’s one or two, that’s better than none.”
In addition to working with Ueberroth, the Baseball Network also met with Dr. Harry Edwards, a professor of sociology at the University of California, Berkeley, who was working with the commissioner’s office. While Burris believed Ueberroth was sincere in his efforts to help increase minority representation in Major League Baseball, he wasn’t as impressed with Edwards, perhaps best known for helping to organize a black boycott of the 1968 Olympics. “To me, he was very vague in his presentation to us,” Burris said. “He never said point blank, ‘Guys, this is where it’s at.’ It was all of the rhetoric of what he was about and what baseball was about. We didn’t want a history of baseball. We had a history of baseball—we were part of that history. We didn’t need history—we nee
ded to know what we could do at that point to make things better and what his position was with the commissioner. I didn’t feel comfortable with what he was saying. It’s not that we were trying to discredit him, but we felt he was trying to discredit us.” Edwards told the Chicago Tribune after a meeting in December 1987 that both sides were moving forward “with some urgency and dispatch. People will look back on this year as the beginning of something significant and important. Not just for baseball, but for American society.” Edwards noted that minority hires in Major League Baseball had increased from 17 to 86 between April 17 and December 8 of that year. “But it’s another thing to be able to look at this process down the line—three years, five years, eight years and see 300 jobs and the situation still going strong because there is a solid base and a solid structure for progress there.”48
Burris said Stargell’s role with the Baseball Network was a critical one, as he served on the group’s executive board. “The thing I remember about Willie was his clear view on the mindset of baseball at that time,” he said. “I think we all had an idea but he had a better idea from the things he’d had a chance to witness—the things he’d seen going through the Pirates organization.” Burris said the Baseball Network was unable to remain intact because of scheduling and funding difficulties. “But for that short time, we were given the opportunity to have our voices be heard by the baseball establishment and the people we thought to be very important. We got a lot of press and a lot of awareness out of it. That awareness, I think, fueled over the long haul the opportunities for things to happen. I just wished we would have been able to stay in contact. But maybe that effort brought enough awareness at the time when things needed to be made aware of, so that people would start thinking about these things. If that’s what happened, then we served our purpose in that particular arena.”
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