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  • Writer's pictureRhymes Media Group

The Invisible Asterisk: Reflections of What Might Have Been

Written By Edward Rhymes PhD, CEO & Managing Editor

Note: This piece was written in 2005, a couple years removed from the comments made by Limbaugh. In this year's SuperBowl, for the first time we will see two teams led by Black quarterbacks: NFL MVP Patrick Mahomes for the Kansas City Chiefs and Jalen Hurts for the Philadelphia Eagles. Some of the observations made show how far we've come and the work that needs to continue.

I was extremely pleased when I read the list of players selected for the NFL’s 2005 Pro Bowl. For the first time in NFL history, all the quarterbacks for a Pro Bowl Team, in this case the NFC, are black: Duante Culpepper, Donovan McNabb and Michael Vick (making Rush Limbaugh eat crow – well, more like Jim Crow). However, my celebration was short-lived as I began to reflect on the history of blacks and sports in America.

I have always been a student of sports (especially football). I have studied the record books of the “Big Three” of sports (baseball, basketball and football) and some people have considered my knowledge of these encyclopedic – or annoying, depending on whom you ask.

Anyhow, the one thing that I have found extremely interesting in my studies is the asterisks next to certain records. There was an asterisk next to Roger Maris’s old single season homerun record, calling attention to the fact that his 61 homeruns were obtained in a 162-game season and Babe Ruth’s 60 occurred in 154 games. I have seen asterisks next to the names of Eric Dickerson, Barry Sanders, Terrell Davis and Jamaal Lewis because they surpassed 2000 yards rushing in a 16-game season, whereas the original 2000-yard rusher, O.J. Simpson, accomplished this feat in 14 games.

There was even an asterisk next to the name of Otto Graham when he was still amongst the top ten of the NFL’s all-time quarterbacks a couple of years ago. The notation for the asterisk stated that if the records from the All-American Football Conference (a football league that briefly rivaled the NFL from 1946 to 1949 – the two leagues merged in 1950) were counted then his place among the NFL’s all-time passers would have been higher. Nevertheless, on the official website for the NFL’s Hall of Fame, they’ve recognized his AAFC statistics – as a result, he now stands at No. 6 all-time. So, as you can see, there is an asterisk for just about everything.

I began to think, however, about all the places where asterisks should appear and don’t. With Barry Bonds closing in on Major League Baseball’s all-time homerun record and the NFL’s postseason well under way, I thought of those who were never afforded the opportunity to make their mark or realize their full potential.

I speak not of Lou Gehrig, Sandy Koufax, Gale Sayers and Reggie Lewis or of any of the great athletes whose careers were cut short by an injury or unforeseen tragedy, but of those individuals such as Josh Gibson, Warren Moon and Leroy “Satchel” Paige (and many more) whose full greatness was never completely realized because of discrimination and bigotry.

For example, the name of Josh Gibson is seldom or never mentioned when speaking of the single season and career home run records (and when Barry Bonds had the “audacity” to insinuate that Josh Gibson was a greater slugger than the American Institution Babe Ruth, sportswriters across America let him have it with both barrels).

In various publications, the 6-foot-1, 215-pounder has been credited with as many as 84 homers in one season. His Hall of Fame plaque says he hit “almost 800” homers in his 17-year career. His lifetime batting average was higher than .350, with one book putting it at .384, best in Negro League history. Gibson died of a stroke at the age of 35 in 1947 (three months before Jackie Robinson’s debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers) without ever receiving the opportunity or credit his talent deserved. Alas, there will never be an asterisk next to Babe Ruth’s legend.

Black college quarterbacks, for the longest time, were either ignored altogether or, when an opportunity came, got one shot. When they weren’t immediate sensations – and quarterbacks rarely are, black or white – they were shifted to traditionally “black positions,” (running back, defensive back and receiver) where their “natural athleticism” (old school NFL language for “black”) would serve them better.

“As a black QB, they are constantly trying to switch you to another position,” said James Harris in 1974, when he was the lone black NFL starting quarterback, playing for the Los Angeles Rams. His success was short-lived. “Blacks get two types of opportunities to play quarterback in the NFL: a chance and a ‘nigger’ chance," says Harris. "One mistake and you were gone.” The long-held belief in the intellectual and social inferiority of Blacks was the foundation that prevented and limited opportunities. The comments that Rush Limbaugh made concerning Donovan McNabb, just a year ago, tells us that traces of these beliefs still linger.

Warren Moon, one of the most prolific passers in NFL history (the most in Professional Football when his CFL statistics are considered) had to begin his career in Canada because of the bigoted notions of many in the NFL during this time. When Moon graduated from Washington, black quarterbacks in the NFL were rare and generally unsuccessful. Willie Thrower, Marlin Briscoe and Joe Gilliam had tried before him. Doug Williams was treated like a trailblazer when he was chosen in the first round by Tampa Bay in 1978.

A few teams, particularly in the South, probably feared a fan backlash as well. So Warren was urged to become a running back or a safety. At 6'3", 210-lbs., he had the right size for either one; but he refused. He wanted to be a quarterback and when he was not chosen in the draft (which lasted 12 rounds back then), Warren signed with the Edmonton Eskimos of the CFL. He soon won five league titles. In NFL career passing statistics,

Warren Moon is: 3rd in attempted passes, 5th in total touchdown passes, 3rd in total passes completed and 3rd in total yards passing. Where would he stand in the annals of NFL history had he not been discriminated against? We are left only to guess without a single asterisk to guide us.

Satchel Paige did not reach the majors with the Cleveland Indians in 1948 until he was in his forties. Before that time, it is reported he pitched 50 no-hitters and surpassed Cy Young (Major League Baseball’s winningest pitcher, with 511 wins) in games won. Sure, the baseball aficionados pay homage to Paige now, but where is his name in Major League Baseball’s all-time record book? Where would it be had it not been for institutional and systemic racism?

Cy Young’s legendary status remains unchallenged and yes – no asterisk. There is not adequate space or time to name all who have eaten the bitter fruit of racial discrimination in sports. For now, these examples will have to do.

Some might say that we will never know, so why bother? Others are quick to cite people such as Doug Flutie not getting a fair shake because of his height (or some other obscure or insignificant factor) – as if height discrimination should have equal footing with slavery and Jim Crow (the NAAVC – The National Association for the Advancement of the Vertically Challenged? Nah… Doesn’t work for me either).

I fully realize that life is filled with unanswered questions. That is one of the more interesting characteristics about sports, the all-consuming “what if.” What if Bill Buckner had snagged that grounder? What if Sandy Koufax had played longer? What would happen if the 1972 Dolphins played the 1985 Bears?

What if the Portland Trailblazers would have selected Michael Jordan with the 2nd pick instead of Sam Bowie, in the 1984 NBA Draft? What if Len Bias wouldn’t have died of a drug overdose? I am not disturbed by not knowing, but by the reason we do not know. The reason we do not know is ugly, hideous and unworthy to be counted amongst the attributes of a society that claims to be a shining example of fairness and equality.

Imagine this scenario: I am a teacher in a classroom and I’m administering a test to determine who the best student is. For no good reason, I excluded five students from taking this test. When the test is completed (by those who had been allowed to take it) I raise the hand of the student with the highest score; and in the presence of the excluded students, I proclaim this student to be “the best.” Now, by this gesture, what am I saying about greatness? What am I saying about equality?

I know there are some who may say that by my writing this article I am implying that legends such as Babe Ruth, Dan Marino, John Elway, Ty Cobb or Cy Young have not achieved or are not deserving of greatness. Nothing could be further from the truth. I too have marveled at their exploits (ESPN Classic is must see T.V. in my home). I call not into question their achievements, but the designations of “greatest” and “best.”

As I further pondered this issue of excellence achieved by way of exclusion, I began to think about my educational experience as a student. I rarely, if ever, heard the words “greatest” and “best” used in reference to a woman (the closest I’ve come to hearing it was with Amelia Earhart when she was called, not the greatest pilot, but the greatest “female” pilot). Not in my history, social studies, or English classes.

And I suppose that is the heart of the matter for me. How can greatness truly be measured when some are excluded? How absolute is the portrait of achievement when the colors we use to paint it are incomplete? Discrimination and prejudice have a way of obscuring true achievement and call into question our ideas about “greatest” … “unsurpassed”…“best.”

I humbly dedicate this composition to all whose dreams were thwarted not by a lack of talent, skill or determination, but by narrow minds and intolerant hearts. Cheers and asterisks to you.


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