I was excited and mostly moved by President Obama’s participation in Major League Baseball’s July 2009 All-Star game. He didn’t just throw out the first ball. He spent time with the players and the media. All of which, I am sure, was a security nightmare for the Secret Service.

President Obama is clearly a favorite of many and for a variety of reasons. I am definitely a fan. What I am most attracted to is how genuine he is and how clearly he sees what is possible, not just for the U.S.A. but for all human beings.

This does not mean how to fulfill on that possibility. He doesn’t have all the answers. Nobody does.

I have a big concern that his popularity masks the racism that still exists. It is more dangerous now than ever because it has been driven underground. Political correctness prevents many from acknowledging their true feelings. There can be an appearance that all is well. It is certainly not the case. It is not just a black-white thing. It is racism across the board, pick your color or creed or ethnic origin.

I have heard, read and felt that the basic foundation for racism is economics. Is there enough to go around so that whoever we are can survive. With what we are going through right now I expect there could be more fear of anyone that we don’t know.

A very wise man once told me that the most dangerous enemy that you can have is the one that is undeclared. The one that looks willing to play with you, but is secretly against you.

My relationship with racism is through sports or more accurately said, competitive athletics. The span of my lifetime pretty well covers the black (colored, Negro) athlete. Athletics has always been a way for some to escape their circumstances. It is truly a small number that has such great visibility.

From 12 years old (1946) when my first exposure was seeing the Harlem Globetrotters play the local town team (Porterville CA) I have been a student of the black/white relationship. Very naively in the beginning and more involved as I grew up. The Trotters were the best black players in the world. This was the trotters of Marques Haynes, “Goose” Tatum, Sweetwater Clifton and Ermer Robinson.

I saw the mood of the crowd go from one of festivity and being entertained to dark and ugly when it was clear that the locals were no match for the Trotters. The “N” word began popping up all over the gym.

I was shocked. I was inspired by the Trotters who just kept doing their thing. I wanted to be like them as a basketball player. In fact, basketball became my favorite sport that night.

I know that at 12 years old I had no exposure to anyone of the Negro race. I was naïve in many ways. What I did know was that what happened that night was WRONG. I knew it in every cell of my body. It made me sick to my stomach.

I made it a lifetime pursuit to learn about the Negro culture from that day forward. I learned from Jackie Robinson, the Edison High (Fresno, CA) basketball team, Len Tucker and Wally and Robin Pounds. I learned from Len Brown, Leroy Mims, Odell Johnson, the great Bill Russell, K.C. Jones and Wilma Rudolph.

I know that many of these people you’ve never heard of before. There are many, many more. There are all the black players who played for me. My roomie Govnor Vaughn at Oakland in the American Basketball League. We were the first black-white roommates in professional sports (1963). I didn’t see that it was a big deal at the time. Gov was my favorite guy on the team. He had me see that it was a big deal with the black players in the league. Remember, Brian Piccolo and Gale Sayers weren’t roommates until 1967 and a whole lot of people thought that was a big deal.

In all of those experiences, too many to recount here, I learned one thing. Every single black, brown, white and any other colors you want to throw in woke up this morning wanting their lives to work, to live with dignity and be treated with respect. I guess that’s three things.

What I want you to think about in closing is this; has the success of a few covered up the problems of inequality, poverty and the daily activities in the “neighborhood?” Sports, painfully and slowly in the beginning opened many doors. Maybe the doors aren’t open wide enough and too few are able to pass through?