Happy
Jackie Robinson Day! On April 15, 1947, Major League Baseball took the first
step toward integration. I tip my Giants cap to the Brooklyn Dodgers. I take
off my cap to Mr. Robinson for venturing over and the Negro League for playing
ball and surviving as long as it did regardless of what the racists did.
Brief
update on the 2012 Giants: The Giants came back from that 17-8 loss on
Wednesday to the Rockies to win the series and after last night they’re .500.
Today, they might even sweep the Pirates. Barry Zito has looked good in his two
starts. They’ve only played eight games but it looks like Brian Wilson will be
out for the rest of the season. Hold onto your caps, folks!...Oomph, they just
lost to the Pirates. According to Meatloaf, two out of three ain’t bad.
When I
wrote the following essay in the fall of 2012, I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, if
anything. I just felt I had to write it. I didn’t look at it again until last
week. Now, I see it as the first posting of Life in the Bleachers. I just wrote
it a year and a half early. Since it’s long and I’m overwhelmed with grading at
the end of the semester, I’m breaking it into two, maybe three parts. I’ll have
to write about Ozzie Guillen’s remarks about Fidel Castro, Tara VanDerveer’s
disappearing comments about sexism in sports, Bobby Petrino’s lies of omission/commission,
and more after the semester ends.
Part I
Some
thoughts about sports and society inspired by "A crowd of 45,929
whistling at Tim Lincecum the way a man whistles at a woman."[1]
I’ve
read about the Phillies’ fans whistling at Tim Lincecum in different articles
by writers from The Philadelphia Inquirer, Yahoo Sports, NY Times, and the good
ol’ SF Chronicle.
Not one
writer has mentioned the homophobia or sexism behind the whistles. I’ve read
enough sports articles and listened to enough sports radio programs to know
why: homophobia and sexism are accepted in sports. Just as they are in the rest
of society.
Lincecum’s
a man (assumed to be heterosexual). The men (assumed to be heterosexual) in the
stadium know he’s a man. The men in the stadium whistled. The photos show them
laughing and smiling. I’m sure they winked and nudged each other too: I’m
kidding. Kid-ding, bro!
Those
men whistling at Lincecum are presumed to be so not gay that they can act
gay (my
emphasis) and whistle at him. Huh?
“The
way a man whistles at a woman.”
You’ve
heard it. Growing up, I did every time I passed Hunt’s Donuts. Whistles, Hey
mami, Oye, mija. Hey baby. Girls, teenagers, women, grandmothers. Eight to
eighty (ok, slight exaggeration) you knew what to expect.
Maybe
you’ve whistled at a woman you didn’t know. Maybe you wanted to know her. Maybe
you whistled at a man you wanted to meet. It must work. That’s why folks do it,
right? Someone out there must like it or no one would do it, right?
For the
longest time, I didn’t know it was wrong. Or, I didn’t think it was wrong. I’m
sure there are some folks out there who think there is nothing wrong about it.
I remember an interview I read with Patrick Swayze. He said he met his wife by
slapping her ass. She was walking by. He liked what he saw. He slapped. She
laughed. They met, married, and lived happily ever after. I’m glad they had
their time together.
I can
believe that happened and happens. I understand flirtation between two people
doesn’t always appear “right” to outsiders. I know there’s something about
chemistry.
I knew
I didn’t like getting catcalled, but I didn’t know I could ask—I sure didn’t
think I could demand—that the whistles or comments stop.
One day
when I was a teenager, one of my uncles came back from a walk and told my
mother, “Damn, I went to the store to buy a paper. I saw this pretty dame so I
said, ‘Lookin’ good, baby.’ She told me to fuck off.” He was offended or just
sounded like it. I was shocked.
Not at
him. I knew he said things to women, honked his car horn at women, looked at
women through binoculars from second story windows. I grew up around my
mother’s five brothers and they all did those things. I don’t think they were
the kind of men who slapped unknown women’s behinds or did more invasive stuff.
But I’ve seen a lot of guys get real ugly real fast. I’ve seen it too many
times. And whoever and wherever you are, you probably have too.
That
woman told my uncle to get lost. I remember feeling bad for my uncle. I
understood that she didn’t like or appreciate his comment, but he was a good
man, a good uncle. I also remember being impressed with that unknown woman.
Tim
Lincecum cut his hair four inches recently. On Monday, he faces the Phillies
and another two-time Cy Young winner, Roy Halladay. I doubt anyone in the home
crowd will hoot at Lincecum “like a man [does to] a woman.” Hopefully, no one
will do it to Halladay either. If someone does, I hope someone
else—anyone—calls the person out.
I
believe baseball—and all sports—can be played competitively without demeaning
the opposition. I believe we can live in society without demeaning women. I
know we’ve made progress—today is Jackie Robinson Day and all the players on
all the teams are wearing #42!—I also know we still have a long way to go. In
the meantime, I’ll be in the bleachers grading papers.
In Part
II, I’ll look at football again.
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