The Home Run Race - was it about race?

Sosa vs. McGwire: It's a Race, but Is It Also About Race?

Bill Dedman

Baseball

First published September 20 in The New York Times.

With McGwire leading Sosa by just one run, and the winner certain to have the all-time record, people were wondering if there was anything in Sosa's Carribean background and McGwire's rust-belt history.

Will an immigrant, an American citizen, be considered by everyone an American hero if he wins?
All across the country, Americans are talking baseball and home runs. Or more specifically, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. Take a seat at the bar in Denver, or at a hamburger joint in Los Angeles. The questions are simple: Who are you rooting for in the home run race? And why?
The answers are not so simple. It does not take long for the vexing issues of race and national origin to creep onto the field. In Atlanta or Boston, in Houston or Miami, awkward pauses and disagreements renew the long, uncomfortable relationship between the national pastime and the national enigma.
With only one week to go in the Home Run Derby of 1998, with two players already past Roger Maris's record of 61 home runs in a season, the overwhelming reaction of sports fans and nonfans has been delight at the simple joy of the competition. McGwire of the St. Louis Cardinals, who had 64 home runs going into yesterday's games, and Sosa of the Chicago Cubs, who had 63, are seen as embodiments of power, sportsmanship and grace.
And yet a fact remains, mentioned frequently by fans: one of the sluggers, McGwire, happens to be a white, red-headed Californian, a European American. The other, Sosa, is a dark-skinned, Spanish-speaking Dominican, a Latin American.
In dozens of conversations in 10 cities in recent days, the complexities of race emerged from the simplest questions about the home run race. The answers raise more questions, unsettled and unsettling: If it is a matter of pride for Latinos to root for Sosa, why would many consider it racist for whites to root for McGwire because he is white? And how precise are the racial labels anyway? Which group may claim Sosa as a hero? And what of citizenship? Will an immigrant, an American citizen, be considered by everyone an American hero if he wins?
There is no question that many people of all races and backgrounds are rooting for each player regardless of race. Both players have received standing ovations in every city. Their memorabilia fly off the home shopping channels.
Fans love McGwire for his powerful physique, for his on-field hugs of his son, the part-time bat boy. He is Big Mac, or Paul Bunyan in Cardinals red with a white-ash bat instead of an ax. Nearing his 35th birthday, he has been hitting home runs longer than Sosa, and hitting longer home runs than practically anyone.
Fans love Sosa for his exuberance, for the kisses he blows to his mother, wife and four children. He is Slammin' Sammy, a fairy-tale figure rising from poverty in the Dominican Republic to the 55th floor above Chicago's Lake Shore Drive. Nearly 30, he is the underdog having a career year for the Cubs, who are scrapping for a spot in the playoffs.
Fans love both players for their humility and friendly competition. To some, their hugs and smiles, without a taint of animus, are signs of the country's progress in race relations. From fans there is little of the rancor, and no talk of the threats that accompanied the last assault on a home run record when Hank Aaron went through the trauma of death threats as he passed Babe Ruth's career mark in 1974.
"You have a rich kid from U.S.C., and a shoeshine guy from Puerto Rico," said Don DeLew, a 49-year-old artist in Los Angeles. DeLew, who is white, is a bit off on Sosa's homeland, but he is rooting for the two players to finish in a tie. "It's beautiful. It's America."

Fans love both players for their humility and friendly competition.
For those who are picking a champion, race often seems to play a role. Latinos, whites and blacks speak of choosing "one of our own" or "someone like us." This allegiance causes some to flinch, and fills others with pride.
In Latino neighborhoods across the country, Dominican flags are flying, and Latinos of every origin are soaping Sosa's name and uniform No. 21 onto windows. In South Florida, Cuban radio stations have been preaching that all Hispanics should support Sosa.
Sara Rodriguez doesn't need to be talked into it. "I want the world to know that who they see in the newspapers and the evening news is in fact a good, positive Latino man," she said. Rodriguez, who was born in Puerto Rico, is a 32-year-old executive administrative assistant in Belmont, Calif., in Silicon Valley. She said she cried with pride when McGwire broke the record. But of Sosa she said: "We've taken him as our hero. Why do we do that? Because, in this country, unfortunately, Latins -- a lot of Latins -- fear success."
In San Diego last week, 12-year-old Armando Flores 3d went to a Padres-Cubs game to see Sosa. "I've never hit a home run, so I like to look up to Sammy and see how he does it, how he feels hitting a home run," said Flores, a Mexican-American. "My team won the district, and I'm a shortstop, and I want to be a major league player. I think because he is the same color of skin as me, I like that. I don't have the same feeling for Mark McGwire. I don't hate him or like him. I would like Sosa to take it."
In Denver, live jazz and racial identity were on tap at the Mead Street Bar and Grill. Carolyn Butterfield, 49, who remodels homes, said she is rooting for McGwire. "I'm cheering for the hometown guy, the white guy," she said. "I grew up in New York, the Brooklyn Dodgers, and I think of all the American sports, baseball is the one that reflects our heritage."
She grew cautious at this admission, and felt the need to explain. "I think Sammy Sosa is a wonderful person, but I'm going to be 50 in a few weeks, and I grew up in America. I think it's natural that we relate to whites as our heroes, that Hispanics relate to their own. It's an affirmation of all of our heritage."
The bass player, Dave Randon, 43, was taking his break. "I think it's bad to align like that," said Randon, who is black. But his fellow musician, 35-year-old Paul Musso, who is white, said: "I think it's inevitable that more whites will be in McGwire's corner, and Hispanics in Sosa's corner. What it comes down to, though, is two guys who love to play baseball. It's cool."

I think because he is the same color of skin as me, I like that.
"Race has nothing to do with it," said Phillip Santos, 19, a pre-optometry student at the University of Houston. Santos, who is a Philippine-American, said he admires both men, but is rooting for Sosa, because he is Dominican. "I think it's just natural for people to support someone they relate to more closely," Santos said.
And in all precincts, nationality is up for grabs. McGwire is often referred to as "the American," and Sosa as "the foreigner." Hardly anyone seems to know that Sosa has been an American citizen for three years.
"Personally, I pull for McGwire because he's an American," said Ethon Vivion, 27, a black man, director of health and fitness for a Boys Club in Atlanta. "Sosa's a brother, and I'm a brother. But McGwire's an American."
In Arlington, Tex., at a bar near the Ballpark, Bob Nab is backing McGwire. "Americans made the record, and Americans should break the record," Nab said. "I'm not racist. I've got black and Hispanic friends," said Nab, 29, a white man who works as a plumber in Longview, Tex.
Some of his friends, he said, call Sosa "a no-American. They don't like him even being there or having a shot at it."
Against this backdrop, there has been talk for three months that Sosa was being denied his due, or in street slang his "props," or proper respect. That talk smoldered at the convention of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists, in Miami in June, during Sosa's magical month of 20 home runs. At the start of the month, he trailed McGwire, 27-13, and was not a threat to break Maris's record.
By the end of the month, Sosa trailed McGwire by only four, 37-33, and both were leaps above a record-setting pace.
Still, the national press corps did not fill the clubhouse of Sosa's Cubs until mid-August. By then Sosa trailed McGwire by only one home run, but McGwire's media cloud remained four times as large.
The talk of neglect ignited last Sunday, when Sosa's 62d clout seemed to sneak up on baseball. Five days earlier, when McGwire broke Maris's record, there was a huge celebration. Chagrined, Major League Baseball has said it will honor both sluggers, no matter who ends up with the most home runs.
It is understood by most sports fans that McGwire's 62d and Sosa's 62d were not quite equivalent. After all, Sosa had merely tied a five-day-old record. (If anything involving 62 home runs can be mere.) As of yesterday, there had not been a morning this season when Sosa had awakened with sole ownership of the home-run lead.
"There's no prize for second," said Jamal Smalls, 20, a Sprint employee in Boston, a black man squarely in McGwire's camp because of his hitting dominance.
Sosa is seeking no pity. "Mark was there first," he said last week in San Diego.
But the question rests uneasily on the minds of many fans, whatever their race. "I don't want to see it as Sosa didn't get the same treatment because he's Hispanic and he's black," said Joe Someillan, 29, a native of Cuba, who works for a Miami hearing aid company. "I guess you want to try and ignore it. But it's there."
In Chicago before Friday's game at Wrigley Field, two white men, Cincinnati Reds fans, batted the topic around as they waited for Sosa to hit a batting-practice home run toward them.

Sosa is seeking no pity. "Mark was there first," he said last week in San Diego.
"I don't think it's right," said E.J. Nemeth, 45, a builder from Detroit. "Where's all the fanfare for Sosa? Because he's not white?"
"No," said his friend, Ron Weitz, 44, an iron worker from Cincinnati. "I think it's because McGwire got there first."
"I don't know," Nemeth said, "maybe he's right. The bottom line is, Sammy deserves his due. Maybe it's not all race, but it's time we dissolve this color issue."
In the event, McGwire won the race, 70-66; Sosa took the NL MVP award, as his homers helped the Cubs advance to the play-offs for the first time since 1154 (or something like that).

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This page updated December 7, 1998

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	Will an immigrant, an American citizen, be considered by everyone an American hero if he wins?	All across the country, Americans are talking baseball and home runs. Or more specifically, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. Take a seat at the bar in Denver, or at a hamburger joint in Los Angeles. The questions are simple: Who are you rooting for in the home run race? And why? The answers are not so simple. It does not take long for the vexing issues of race and national origin to creep onto the field. In Atlanta or Boston, in Houston or Miami, awkward pauses and disagreements renew the long, uncomfortable relationship between the national pastime and the national enigma. With only one week to go in the Home Run Derby of 1998, with two players already past Roger Maris's record of 61 home runs in a season, the overwhelming reaction of sports fans and nonfans has been delight at the simple joy of the competition. McGwire of the St. Louis Cardinals, who had 64 home runs going into yesterday's games, and Sosa of the Chicago Cubs, who had 63, are seen as embodiments of power, sportsmanship and grace. And yet a fact remains, mentioned frequently by fans: one of the sluggers, McGwire, happens to be a white, red-headed Californian, a European American. The other, Sosa, is a dark-skinned, Spanish-speaking Dominican, a Latin American. In dozens of conversations in 10 cities in recent days, the complexities of race emerged from the simplest questions about the home run race. The answers raise more questions, unsettled and unsettling: If it is a matter of pride for Latinos to root for Sosa, why would many consider it racist for whites to root for McGwire because he is white? And how precise are the racial labels anyway? Which group may claim Sosa as a hero? And what of citizenship? Will an immigrant, an American citizen, be considered by everyone an American hero if he wins? There is no question that many people of all races and backgrounds are rooting for each player regardless of race. Both players have received standing ovations in every city. Their memorabilia fly off the home shopping channels. Fans love McGwire for his powerful physique, for his on-field hugs of his son, the part-time bat boy. He is Big Mac, or Paul Bunyan in Cardinals red with a white-ash bat instead of an ax. Nearing his 35th birthday, he has been hitting home runs longer than Sosa, and hitting longer home runs than practically anyone. Fans love Sosa for his exuberance, for the kisses he blows to his mother, wife and four children. He is Slammin' Sammy, a fairy-tale figure rising from poverty in the Dominican Republic to the 55th floor above Chicago's Lake Shore Drive. Nearly 30, he is the underdog having a career year for the Cubs, who are scrapping for a spot in the playoffs. Fans love both players for their humility and friendly competition. To some, their hugs and smiles, without a taint of animus, are signs of the country's progress in race relations. From fans there is little of the rancor, and no talk of the threats that accompanied the last assault on a home run record when Hank Aaron went through the trauma of death threats as he passed Babe Ruth's career mark in 1974. "You have a rich kid from U.S.C., and a shoeshine guy from Puerto Rico," said Don DeLew, a 49-year-old artist in Los Angeles. DeLew, who is white, is a bit off on Sosa's homeland, but he is rooting for the two players to finish in a tie. "It's beautiful. It's America."
	Fans love both players for their humility and friendly competition.	For those who are picking a champion, race often seems to play a role. Latinos, whites and blacks speak of choosing "one of our own" or "someone like us." This allegiance causes some to flinch, and fills others with pride. In Latino neighborhoods across the country, Dominican flags are flying, and Latinos of every origin are soaping Sosa's name and uniform No. 21 onto windows. In South Florida, Cuban radio stations have been preaching that all Hispanics should support Sosa. Sara Rodriguez doesn't need to be talked into it. "I want the world to know that who they see in the newspapers and the evening news is in fact a good, positive Latino man," she said. Rodriguez, who was born in Puerto Rico, is a 32-year-old executive administrative assistant in Belmont, Calif., in Silicon Valley. She said she cried with pride when McGwire broke the record. But of Sosa she said: "We've taken him as our hero. Why do we do that? Because, in this country, unfortunately, Latins -- a lot of Latins -- fear success." In San Diego last week, 12-year-old Armando Flores 3d went to a Padres-Cubs game to see Sosa. "I've never hit a home run, so I like to look up to Sammy and see how he does it, how he feels hitting a home run," said Flores, a Mexican-American. "My team won the district, and I'm a shortstop, and I want to be a major league player. I think because he is the same color of skin as me, I like that. I don't have the same feeling for Mark McGwire. I don't hate him or like him. I would like Sosa to take it." In Denver, live jazz and racial identity were on tap at the Mead Street Bar and Grill. Carolyn Butterfield, 49, who remodels homes, said she is rooting for McGwire. "I'm cheering for the hometown guy, the white guy," she said. "I grew up in New York, the Brooklyn Dodgers, and I think of all the American sports, baseball is the one that reflects our heritage." She grew cautious at this admission, and felt the need to explain. "I think Sammy Sosa is a wonderful person, but I'm going to be 50 in a few weeks, and I grew up in America. I think it's natural that we relate to whites as our heroes, that Hispanics relate to their own. It's an affirmation of all of our heritage." The bass player, Dave Randon, 43, was taking his break. "I think it's bad to align like that," said Randon, who is black. But his fellow musician, 35-year-old Paul Musso, who is white, said: "I think it's inevitable that more whites will be in McGwire's corner, and Hispanics in Sosa's corner. What it comes down to, though, is two guys who love to play baseball. It's cool."
	I think because he is the same color of skin as me, I like that.	"Race has nothing to do with it," said Phillip Santos, 19, a pre-optometry student at the University of Houston. Santos, who is a Philippine-American, said he admires both men, but is rooting for Sosa, because he is Dominican. "I think it's just natural for people to support someone they relate to more closely," Santos said. And in all precincts, nationality is up for grabs. McGwire is often referred to as "the American," and Sosa as "the foreigner." Hardly anyone seems to know that Sosa has been an American citizen for three years. "Personally, I pull for McGwire because he's an American," said Ethon Vivion, 27, a black man, director of health and fitness for a Boys Club in Atlanta. "Sosa's a brother, and I'm a brother. But McGwire's an American." In Arlington, Tex., at a bar near the Ballpark, Bob Nab is backing McGwire. "Americans made the record, and Americans should break the record," Nab said. "I'm not racist. I've got black and Hispanic friends," said Nab, 29, a white man who works as a plumber in Longview, Tex. Some of his friends, he said, call Sosa "a no-American. They don't like him even being there or having a shot at it." Against this backdrop, there has been talk for three months that Sosa was being denied his due, or in street slang his "props," or proper respect. That talk smoldered at the convention of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists, in Miami in June, during Sosa's magical month of 20 home runs. At the start of the month, he trailed McGwire, 27-13, and was not a threat to break Maris's record. By the end of the month, Sosa trailed McGwire by only four, 37-33, and both were leaps above a record-setting pace. Still, the national press corps did not fill the clubhouse of Sosa's Cubs until mid-August. By then Sosa trailed McGwire by only one home run, but McGwire's media cloud remained four times as large. The talk of neglect ignited last Sunday, when Sosa's 62d clout seemed to sneak up on baseball. Five days earlier, when McGwire broke Maris's record, there was a huge celebration. Chagrined, Major League Baseball has said it will honor both sluggers, no matter who ends up with the most home runs. It is understood by most sports fans that McGwire's 62d and Sosa's 62d were not quite equivalent. After all, Sosa had merely tied a five-day-old record. (If anything involving 62 home runs can be mere.) As of yesterday, there had not been a morning this season when Sosa had awakened with sole ownership of the home-run lead. "There's no prize for second," said Jamal Smalls, 20, a Sprint employee in Boston, a black man squarely in McGwire's camp because of his hitting dominance. Sosa is seeking no pity. "Mark was there first," he said last week in San Diego. But the question rests uneasily on the minds of many fans, whatever their race. "I don't want to see it as Sosa didn't get the same treatment because he's Hispanic and he's black," said Joe Someillan, 29, a native of Cuba, who works for a Miami hearing aid company. "I guess you want to try and ignore it. But it's there." In Chicago before Friday's game at Wrigley Field, two white men, Cincinnati Reds fans, batted the topic around as they waited for Sosa to hit a batting-practice home run toward them.
	Sosa is seeking no pity. "Mark was there first," he said last week in San Diego.	"I don't think it's right," said E.J. Nemeth, 45, a builder from Detroit. "Where's all the fanfare for Sosa? Because he's not white?" "No," said his friend, Ron Weitz, 44, an iron worker from Cincinnati. "I think it's because McGwire got there first." "I don't know," Nemeth said, "maybe he's right. The bottom line is, Sammy deserves his due. Maybe it's not all race, but it's time we dissolve this color issue."