The turmoil of the past few weeks has turned my thoughts back to Rod Carew, whose past life as the Minnesota Twin talks about current affairs in Minneapolis and the country.
In a tweet the other day, New York Times sports journalist John Branch (my former colleague, ever since I retired from the newspaper for 13 years) quoted something he had said on a panel discussion about race several years ago, that Obviously and chillingly found it pertinent to today’s news, in which black men are targeted by the police, from informal racial discomfort to murders.
Carew then reappeared with the news that the Twins’ management had decided to tear down the statue of former team owner Calvin Griffith in front of Target Field, the team’s stadium, due to racist comments he made in a speech in 1978.
Griffith had transferred the senators franchise from Washington DC to Minnesota for the 1961 season. “I’ll tell you when I get to Minnesota,” he said. “It was when we discovered that there were only 15,000 blacks here. Blacks don’t go to ball games, but they will fill a fight ring and make such a chant that it will kill you in fear. We came because you have good, hard-working white people here. ” Griffith then apologized for her comments.
I called Carew and found him magnanimous, as always, and also direct about Griffith and the current anti-racism protest movement.
It was clear that he was working on the news about Griffith. He had recently issued a statement, saying in part that he “understands and respects” the Twins’ decision to remove the Griffith statue, but also remembers “how supportive” Griffith was to him, a young rookie second baseman in 1967, and beyond. Carew wrote: “In 1977, my MVP year, I earned $ 170,000. When the season ended, Calvin called me into his office, thanked me for the great season, told me he had made a lot of money for the team, and gave me a check for $ 100,000. I could have been shot down. A racist would not have done that. ”
Carew, however, was still uncomfortable playing in Minnesota and, presumably, for Griffith, sought a trade that led him to 1979 with the Angels, in Southern California, where he now lives.
However, Carew recalls that when he was told that he had been elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1991, “the first person I called was Calvin.” He also reasoned: “While we cannot change history, perhaps we can learn from it.”
Now 74, Carew sounded loud. A few years ago, he received a heart transplant and a kidney transplant, both at the same time. “I recovered, they gave me a clean state of health,” he said, “and I feel great.”
Like most of the country, he has been deeply concerned about racial tragedies regarding white police officers and black men who have been recorded. He has experienced discrimination in both his native Panama and the United States, but he maintains a cautiously optimistic outlook.
“It is a way of life, but I think things will change, at least a little,” he said. “Almost everyone has a camera on their cell phones. Now, the police are being watched like never before. Personally, I have not had any encounters with the police in recent years, but I am still aware that you must be careful. “
He learned that lesson a long time ago..
When I helped Carew write his autobiography, “Carew,” which was published in 1979, he then said, “I was also annoyed by the white cops when they saw me drive a nice car,” adding, “They think you have to be a pimp.” . He recalled a particular instance that told me it was specific and that it characterized the general.
“After a Twins game at Met Stadium,” or Metropolitan Stadium, the former ballpark in Bloomington, Minnesota, “a few years ago, I was driving 35 W near my home and driving 50 in an area of 55 “Miles. Two cops on a patrol car stop me. You know the speed limit, boy? Do you think you’re going to burn down the road with this fancy car you drive?”
“They asked for my driver’s license. My first instinct was to tell them that I have my license in my pocket and if they want to get it. Among blacks, white cops have a reputation that as soon as you get into your pocket, they think you’re going to get a gun. They could jump me and get their weapons out and it’s all over.
“I told them my doubts. A policeman said, “Do it slowly.” When he saw my name, he started shaking his head and said, “Well, Rod, you’re crazy for exceeding the speed limit.” I said, ‘I know I wasn’t going to exceed the speed limit. I knew you guys were behind me. And I knew you were going to stop me. ” It ended without further incident. “I am Rod Carew, but the bottom line is that I am still black.”
That event happened over 40 years ago, but it looks like it could have happened yesterday.
There is a lot of growth in this country. We have come a long way. And we still have a long way to go.
Ira Berkow is a former columnist for Sports of The Times. His next book, “How Life Mimics Sports: A Sports Journalist Counts, Revives, and Has 50 Years on the Sports Pace,” will be released in August by Skyhorse Publishing.
