Inner cities face battle getting blacks on baseball field

The subject barely musters shock value now. Mention that the African-American baseball player is on the verge of extinction, and, at best, it inspires brief pondering. At worst, it prompts little more than an obligatory nod.

We already know he's dying. We figure there's little we can do.

This feels like a vigil.

"It's sad," says Dan Jurdy, the Rainier Beach High School athletic director. "It's really sad."

Only 8.2 percent of major-league baseball players are African-American, according to diversity expert Richard Lapchick's 2008 Racial and Gender Report Card. It's the lowest percentage in at least two decades. Some estimates have it as the lowest since the 1950s.

If a black baseball player falls in the outfield and nobody is around, does he make a sound?

Does his collapse get treated with similar resignation?

Despite some solid efforts by MLB and local youth-league programs across the country, the game cannot reverse this decline. America's national pastime, once a sport of salvation for black athletes, lies dormant in inner cities.

It has become accepted to cast the news as a consequence of the popularity of basketball and football. In truth, the issue is much more complicated. And the possible repercussions should be alarming.

"Pretty soon, it's going to be very difficult for us to even have a say that we want to play this game," said former Garfield star Jeron "Bookie" Gates, who played in the Arizona Diamondbacks and Colorado Rockies organizations before being released five years ago. "That's my fear."

Gates runs Chaffey Baseball Inner City, a local program attempting to solve this problem. The organization is only eight months old, but Gates has been encouraged by the early results. Chaffey Baseball has mentored coaches on how to properly guide their squads, and it has started two teams (13- and 15-and-under groups) that will play high-caliber competition.

It's just a nibble at the problem. But every bite counts.

"I don't want to look at it like we're reviving baseball," said Gates, not wanting to over-hype his program or have it confused with the MLB's RBI [Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities] initiative. "It is about providing an opportunity."

Like most cities, Seattle faces an overwhelming restoration project. To illustrate the challenge, consider that Garfield, Franklin and Roosevelt — three inner-city schools in the KingCo 4A conference — are a combined 7-44 this baseball season. Ballard, with an 8-10 record, is the only baseball team within the city limits that has somewhat of a chance against the powerful Eastside schools in that conference.

In the 3A Metro League, there's an equal disparity between the private and inner-city schools. Two of those Metro teams — Rainier Beach and Cleveland — have yet to win a game.

Rainier Beach has struggled to field teams the past few years. But Jurdy doesn't assign all the blame to a lack of interest.

"The kids want it," Jurdy said. "They want it bad. They don't have access to it."

By access, he means money. More than race, this problem involves cash. These days, being a standout American baseball player often requires thousands of dollars. It's not just about the equipment, which is pricey enough. It's about the cost of specialized instruction and the expense of playing on elite traveling teams. And unlike basketball, there are no shoe companies and few big-time sponsors offering to help with the tab.

"We're not even talking about poor kids here," Jurdy said. "We're talking about the middle class. They're getting priced out, too.

"The dilemma is the economics. It's not the will or the want of the kid. Baseball is now a big-money sport."

As with all sports, the parks and recreation leagues are becoming secondary to the select teams. The quality of baseball is declining in the inner city. And interest is at a dire low.

Last Tuesday, Rainier Beach was forced to forfeit a game against unbeaten Bishop Blanchet. The Vikings called off the game because they had no available pitchers. Their regulars had been overused in previous games. Bishop Blanchet was confused and wondered why Rainier Beach wouldn't just put one of the position players on the mound so that the game could be played.

"Some of our kids can barely throw the ball from the outfield to shortstop," Jurdy said. "Other schools, they could've said, 'Let's bring Joe out from center field.' Joe could get away with it because he has been throwing a baseball since he was 3. Some of our kids just started playing."

It's a tough world out there for inner-city baseball players. And it will probably get worse. Sixty-one years after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier, we need another Jackie.

It's not about opening the door anymore. It's about telling kids it's OK to enter.

"Kids, they can't even name African-American players anymore," Gates lamented. "Maybe Torii Hunter. That's about it."

If more people don't get proactive in this fight, the next generation won't even have a Torii Hunter to name.

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com. For his Extra Points blog, visit seattletimes.com/sports