at Seneca College.
Appreciation, as always, to my family including Cathie and our children Brad, Darryl and Karen.
I dedicate this book to the almost forgotten Bob Berry, champion rower, barred from competition in a Toronto Regatta, a bare month after Canada became a nation. Let this be a rebuke to the behaviour of small-minded men. Berry was a true Canadian and of that company, as described in Ecclesiastes, whose “bodies are buried in peace but their name liveth for evermore.”
I’ve got a high noon hook-up with a publisher who’s expressed deep interest in another book I’ve been working on. The rendezvous is to take place in downtown Toronto and, as usual, the Spider is running late. I check the clock on the kitchen wall as I’m cuttin’ out the back door. The big hand’s on six and the little one on ten, which allows approximately 30 minutes to make my 40-mile destination. In addition, I’ll have to find a parking spot in the heart of downtown Toronto! That’s kind of like searching for a wart on Tyra Banks’ face.
Just as I slam the door behind me, the phone rings! So it’s back inside and dash for the blower. “Hi Spider, it’s Bill Humber, you got a few seconds?” P-u-1-e-e-z-e! I’m running so late, a few seconds are like eternity. I’m getting ready to blow him off quicker than heaven gets the news. But before I get the opportunity, he informs me that he’s just completed his latest literary venture entitled A Sporting Chance…and now all he requires is the introduction I’d promised him.
Say What! An introduction! Sure, I was flattered when he approached me with the idea, but since then I’d taken on so many commitments that it had completely eluded me. Nevertheless, Humber is a special friend and someone who has always been conscientious and supportive in the fight for racial equality. Keeping this in mind, I left him with a promise the intro would be in his possession within a few days. First, I’d have to read the book. When I eventually laid it to rest in the wee hours of the following morning I was infinitely a wiser soul.
As an avid sports fan whose roots are deeply entrenched in Canadian history I can honestly say that A Sporting Chance is not only a historical treasure, but also an enlightening revelation into the African-Canadian sports culture. The book is loaded to the gills with countless inspirational stories and anecdotes about our nation’s greatest Black athletes. There are, of course, the exploits of Lennox Lewis, Donovan Bailey and Ferguson Jenkins, but also more recent heroes like Jarome Iginla, arguably the best all-round hockey player on the planet. He’s a perfect role model for Canadian youth of all cultures. And so is Perdita Felicien from my own community in Pickering, Ontario. She is Canada’s premier track and field performer and a world champion with a contagious smile.
Humber tells the stories of other distinguished female athletes like Sylvia Sweeney and Molly Killingbeck both of whom continued to provide leadership after their athletic careers ended. He reminds us of a generation of women who came to Canada as children after immigration’s doors were opened. They transformed Canada’s track and field identity in the 1980s and beyond.
Their feats have been well-documented in the sporting pages of our major papers. Unfortunately, numerous other great Black Canadian athletes have been grossly ignored, or pardon the pun, blacked out by the media. Perhaps this lack of acknowledgement is because of ignorance, bias or short-sightedness, which has grossly afflicted too many of our nation’s journalists. This is not my time nor book to debate such issues. With his broad knowledge, compassion and courage, Humber has succeeded in doing an admirable job of boldly going where few have dared to tread as he reflects on many of our nation’s forgotten athletes. He speaks with passion of their struggles against racism in a country that has long denied its existence.
Spider Jones is one of Canada’s most dynamic speakers with a story, now available in his book, Out of the Darkness (ECW Press, 2003). He hosts the ESPN Classic Series on boxing with his long-time pal George Chuvalo. Spider can be heard on Canada’s premier radio station CFRB where, in honour of his long ago days in the fight game, he seldom pulls his punches.
A Sporting Chance stimulated and resurrected many bygone memories for me, including Earl Walls, George Godfrey, Larry Gains and Clyde Gray, four of the greatest boxers this country has produced. Each was a genuine Hall of Famer. All were revered within Black communities. Yet the distinguished feats of these extraordinary athletes have too often faded into obscurity. Humber’s tribute to them conjures sweet memories of their past glory. But it also brings back painful memories of times when racial antagonism turned the dreams of many great African-Canadian athletes into nightmares.
Ever hear of Sam Richardson and Ray Lewis? They were two of Canada’s first great track stars. Long before Ben Johnson and Donovan Bailey emerged, these track and field pioneers experienced the foul winds of racism. Yet through it all they rolled with the punches of persecution, and they proudly carried the spirit of our nation into Olympic action. Valerie Jerome was another gifted competitor who toiled in obscurity at a time when female athletes of any colour were generally ignored.
Back in the late 1940s and early fifties, Fred Thomas was Windsor, Ontario’s, most beloved hero. Sadly, his is another tale of an extraordinary Black athlete whose road to glory was barricaded by racism. Thomas excelled in many sports including basketball. If not for the racial barriers of the day he would have been fast-tracked to the major leagues of several sports. In 1949 the Toronto Globe and Mail called him, “The best Negro athlete in Canada.” Their accolade fell short, however, for he was likely the best athlete, period.
Herb Carnegie is another story of broken dreams. Back in the 1950s he was a smooth skater and electrifying forward in Quebec’s elite professional league. Unfortunately some years before, Conn Smythe, owner of the Toronto Maple Leafs, was said to have rhetorically quipped that he’d pay anyone $10,000 if they could turn Carnegie white.
In this compelling book, Humber shares additional stories of athletes who suffered because of the social injustices of their day. Names like Robert Berry, a great rower at the time of Confederation, banned from competing in his home town’s annual regatta, or Sam Langford, pound-for-pound one of the greatest to lace them up, are now forgotten. Even George Dixon, the first Black man to ever capture a world boxing title seldom gets his due when sports pages exalt our nation’s past sports heroes.
A story that particularly evoked memories for me was that of a man whose name popped up in the barbershops and street corners of the Black communities of my youth in Windsor and across the border in Detroit. John Joseph Evans, better known as J.J., excelled in Negro league baseball during the forties. My father, who saw Jackie Robinson, Josh Gibson and Willie Mays, swore that Evans was in their class. He said only the colour barrier kept Evans from the majors.
A Sporting Chance is a revelation. It shares bittersweet tales of the human spirit’s victory over insurmountable odds. It’s a provocative and inspirational read that stirs both the heart and soul, even as it tells about salt poured into the wounds of racism. A Sporting Chance is a hard-hitting, eye-opening experience that had to be written. It’s a definite must on the shelves of every library and school across our country. My deepest regard to Bill Humber for the plethora of time and effort he’s devoted to this historical gem.
You are the man!
- SPIDER JONES
