The Pennant Race

There was an article in The Washington Post recently that examined the commercialization of Black History Month, asking a legitimate question: is a month-long celebration of pride, family, and legacy diminished if certain retailers simply view it as an excuse to offer deep discounts on items such as corn bread and skin care products geared towards black consumers?

In my eyes, no more so than Christmas has been diminished by the sale of robotic Santa Clauses that dance to reggae versions of "Jolly 'Ole St. Nicholas." Or than St. Patrick's Day is diminished by every pub in the country offering $1-off shots of Bushmills on March 17. (I'm sure while converting his pagan countrymen to Christianity in the 450's, Patrick often wondered how much dye it would take to turn a pint of Murphy's Red into green party beer.)

While you can paint these gimmicks with a broad brush of cultural insensitivity, let's be frank here: there's also a certain amount of pandering involved. There's no question that a department store actually feels it's connecting with its African-American clientele if it puts relaxer on sale for a month.

It's the kind of pandering we saw at the Academy Awards this year. Chris Rock was selected as the master of ceremonies to attract both young adults and a sizable black viewing audience that otherwise might not be inclined to tune in to see if Martin Scorsese would finally be redeemed for Raging Bull's loss in 1981.

Rock's biggest flaw as Oscar's host — besides the shackles of good taste and broadcasting standards that restrained him — was that he didn't pander enough to the audience he was chosen to attract. When he did, he scored big, like with that hilarious riff about how black movies are always named after locations, like Barbershop and Car Wash. (Rock himself appeared in New Jack City.)

And in one of most inspired comedy set pieces in the show's recent history, Rock went to a Magic Johnson Theater and asked black patrons what they felt the best of picture of year was. (Resulting in the first, and last, utterance of the title Alien vs. Predator on an Oscar telecast until the Academy posthumously honors master thespian Lance Henrikson.)

When Rock strayed from his target audience, the wheels came off. Like, for example, when the producer and co-star of Pootie Tang called Jude Law a second-rate Tom Cruise. Swung on and missed, Chris.

You've got to know your audience. Look at the NBA All-Star Game. Destiny's Child singing before the player intros was a demographic dream -- eye candy whose look and material appealed to the Association's main constituency. And if you doubt who encompasses that constituency ... pardon the interruption, but I believe it was Michael Wilbon who once called All-Star Weekend "Black Thanksgiving."

As shrewd as showcasing Beyonce and the girls was, the NBA made the same mistake Rock made at the Oscars: forgetting whom it was supposed to be entertaining. Trying to bring too many spectators under the tent. Overreaching to the point of mind-numbing parody.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

"Big and Rich."

Dumb and Dumber must have had a prior engagement.

Seriously, what was the NBA thinking? Isn't thrusting a country rock act in the middle of the All-Star Game's halftime show akin to mandating a white guy quota in the slam dunk competition?

Oh, I forgot. Big and Rich isn't your Pappy's country act. No sir ... they have a black "rapper" named Cowboy Troy featured on some tracks. I'm guessing Troy has the street cred of Vanilla Ice after his appearance the second Ninja Turtles movie.

And they're all a part of some rebel sect of the genre called the MusikMafia, along with people called Mista D and Two-Foot Fred. Because, you know, if you're already going to insult your core audience with a country act at halftime, you might as well invite one that's indoctrinated in some sort of Southern-Fried pseudo-hip-hop posse. (The Wu-Twang Clan, anyone?)

I don't want to say having a country music act during halftime was a bad decision for the NBA, but the only way Charles Barkley could have looked more disinterested is if he was forced to discuss the intricacies of the NHL lockout on "Inside the Actors' Studio."

And would it have killed the NBA to have added a little color to the group of "fans" it allowed to swarm the stage during halftime? I haven't seen anything that white since the '49 Celtics.

Even with the influx of country music acts and European players with last names that resemble eye charts, the NBA isn't in danger of alienating its constituency of African-American fans.

Major League Baseball should be so lucky.

When Jackie Robinson received a posthumous Congressional Gold Medal this week, it served as a reminder of how far baseball has come ... and how far it still has to go.

Last season, in an April 18 article in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, writer La Velle E. Neal III pontificated on baseball's progress with African-American players and fans during the League's annual tribute to Robinson:

"Rachel Robinson, Jackie's widow, appeared with Commissioner Bud Selig at Shea Stadium in New York. Robinson pointed out that a lot still has to be done "in baseball and life." Selig was right there, nodding in agreement.

Funny, that same thing occurred in the same place in 1997, when baseball celebrated the 50th anniversary of Robinson's debut. I stood within five feet of Selig as he told reporters how things needed to change in baseball, how more African-Americans needed to be involved in the game, and how the league was going to reach out to black fans.

What has happened since 1997?

The Dodgers, the team Robinson played for, have two black players, both developed by other organizations.

There's one black starting pitcher in the American League, Cleveland's C.C. Sabathia.

I still see few African-American fans in the stands, at the Metrodome and across the country.

Should MLB be trusted to fix this problem? I have little faith."

Ouch.

There aren't many reasons for African-American fans to spend their time and money following Major League Baseball these days. The majority of the biggest stars in the game are either white or Hispanic. The most prominent black star in baseball has been labeled a liar, a cheater, and a fraud with a ferocity and scrutiny a certain Paul Bunyan-esque slugger in St. Louis never experienced.

Then there's baseball's ugliest little secret (that doesn't come in the "clear" or the "cream") — the fact that there are just four African-American managers in the Major Leagues this season. You have Washington's Frank Robinson, the Mets' Willie Randolph, the Cubs' Dusty Baker, and Pittsburgh's Lloyd McClendon. When the NFL cowed to Johnnie Cochran and his army of pressure groups in 2002 to create the "Rooney Rule," the league had two African-American head coaches.

So where's the outrage for baseball's minority hiring practices?

When I'm not making off-color jokes on the Internet, I cover community sports in Northern Virginia. I've seen plenty of youth baseball over the last few years, enough to make an informed — though regionally biased — observation: that there simply aren't a whole lot of African-American youngsters growing up on a baseball diamond.

Is it a trend? A skipped generation? I societal norm I just never picked up on until now?

Or is it a hell of a lot easier for young black fan to pick up a basketball when he or she sees 19 players on an all-star court than to pick up a bat and glove when there are 26 teams with managers who don't look like they do?

Of course, it's not just on baseball's administration to affect change. It's up to the African-American stars of today to enchant the African-American fans of tomorrow.

As President Bush said in Robinson's medal ceremony this week: "One person can make a big difference in setting the tone of this country."

Imagine if that one person in baseball was more concerned with being a cultural role model than with beating drug tests, grand jury testimony, and media conspiracies?

Greg Wyshynski is also a weekly columnist for SportsFan Magazine. His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].