No Bats 2010 Memphis
Nineteen years ago I founded the No Bats Baseball Club. It never dawned on me No Bats would evolve into a tightly-knit group of guys who have raised and distributed $1.1 million for a wide variety of baseball-related charities plus the Wounded Warriors — Disabled Sports USA project. This past weekend we were in Memphis and handed over $55,600 — the largest donation the Memphis Redbirds’ RBI Program (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities) has ever received. It costs $86 to sponsor a boy or girl for six weeks of league play, safe transportation, a healthy lunch, uniforms, and equipment. By the time our last donor check hits the ledger, we expect to have helped sponsor 700 boys and girls.
Back when I started No Bats at Dodgertown (Vero Beach, 1991), all I really wanted to do was have a long weekend with a bunch of guys to play some ball and shoot the breeze. I was in my thirties then and could still play a little bit. Two decades later, the basepaths are a lot longer and the dream of a home run has been supplanted by the dream of a double. I run like a turtle with ingrown toenails, so a clean single feels pretty darn good.
For the first few years No Bats had no altruistic purpose and I nearly folded the club after five but one of the guys — Dallas real estate title executive Ted Darby — jumped in to help me out and keep it going. Darb managed the books and kept us solvent. He was so good at it we had a little left over one year and donated it to the host charity, Rickwood Field in Birmingham. Rickwood is America’s oldest ballpark, where Willie Mays played as a kid. From that contribution blossomed a higher purpose.
I’ve taken No Bats on the road ever since, visiting new cities and helping different causes. Guys joined who heard about us and wanted to be involved. Now I’ve got about 75 or 80 active members who are closer than brothers, most of whom have been with me ten years or more. Five have never missed an annual outing. We have grown old together, too quickly. The years have flown by faster than a Nolan Ryan fastball. Nolan, I’m proud to say, supports No Bats. His organizations have hosted us three times in different cities for different causes.
We’ve met a lot of great stars throughout the years and a lot of even greater people as a byproduct of what we do. No Bats has never been about the pursuit of meeting legends; it’s always been about the pursuit of helping people. We call ourselves “Global ambassadors for the good of the game.” My guys honor that description.
In the early years baseball organizations and stars with foundations always wanted to know our angle. What did we want from them? The answer was always, “Nothing. We’ll show up in your town, give you a bunch of money, and leave.” Some didn’t believe us because no one else in baseball does what we do. Those we have helped know otherwise.
My guys have enjoyed playing in big league stadiums and meeting Hall of Famers but far more important is how happy they are to see each other each fall and hand over the dough. We get together once a year but never miss a beat. For any of you who have ever been on a fun team, No Bats is like being on that team for two straight decades with no one being traded or leaving by free agency.
We have lost a few men over the years but keep going to honor their memory. We have weathered divorces, lost fortunes, lost jobs, and — by far the worst of all — lost children. But no man is ever alone. No man is left behind. Every one of the guys has dozens of brothers coast-to-coast right there to pick him up, dust him off, and lift his chin off his chest.
I used to think being old and turning gray was the curse of a Salem witch. I never wanted that to be me. But now that it is I am quite at peace with it. I’m still here, still engaged, still pushing the boulder up the hill, and quite content to keep doing so as long as I am able.
I do not know if any of the inner city Memphis kids will ever make it to the Major Leagues. I hope so; but far more important is rooting for as many as possible to build a strong enough self-image and self-esteem to escape the odds-against damnation of poverty’s frustration that sabotages too many inner city lives without hope.
Baseball is a team game played by a bunch of individuals. So is a family, a community, and a company. But so is a gang. Summer ball is a better alternative. Some of those 700 Memphis kids will prove me right. I hope the number is large.
No Bats has a quote we embrace and practice: “A man’s life means nothing, except for the impact it has on others.” I paraphrased that from an interview Jackie Robinson gave late in life. Jackie died early, at 53 from stress-induced diabetes. It was the price he paid for integrating baseball and changing society. Jackie’s hair was gray when he said it, the same shade mine is now. I’m three seasons older than Jackie and the mirror does not lie, but now I am okay with summer turning to autumn.
When a man or woman reaches a point in life where he or she is happy with who they are, they realize they have all they need. Helping others is not a burden, it is a privilege. Even greater is sharing good deeds with friends and strangers.
I am a richer man because of No Bats. The man in the mirrow insists I’ve grown older, but I’m trying to do so gracefully with a purpose, and I am indebted to all of those are helping me along the way. Thank you all very, very much.