Sometimes you feel as if you know a lot about someone when you really don’t.
I had the good fortune to meet Edward Elliot Whitehead a few years ago while covering both the Indiana Pacers and the Indianapolis Colts for the Indianapolis Recorder Newspaper. Whitehead was an integral part of the statistician crew for both teams, and was down to Earth, yet sophisticated in his conversation. We would often talk sports in the press room, especially baseball.
He overlooked the fact that I am a staunch Pittsburgh Pirates fan, while I forgave him for his steadfast support for his beloved Los Angeles Dodgers. We shared the same disdain for the designated hitter and the Wild Card playoff format, and our conversations were never less than interesting and often quite lively.
He passed Sept. 10 at the age of 77, and it took the loss of this wonderful man to fully bring into focus for me how much he had accomplished and what he endured to get there.
I knew he retired from the banking industry in 2000 after a distinguished 30-year career and that he cherished his wife Paula and his children more than anything, but I had no idea Whitehead was the first African-American to play baseball at Indiana University in 1955.
Yes, it took his leaving this Earth for me to learn of how this humble man played the position of catcher at a very high level despite our nation’s history of segregation.
He once told my former colleague Gary Knight about missing a road trip to Florida during his college days, as certain schools were unwilling to allow Black students to participate.
These policies of racial discrimination prompted then Indiana University President Herman Wells to establish a schedule that only included teams that allowed all players to compete.
But that Florida incident cut Whitehead deeply.
It was a long time before Mr. Whitehead returned to the Sunshine State to enjoy the spring training circuit, and in the process, displaying forgiveness to those who had treated him with such blatant disrespect.
Through our friendship, Whitehead always had a kind word for this Jimmy Olsen wannabe, asking how I was and if I was managing to behave.
We both loved to joke with his beloved daughter Dana, who worked alongside of him at the games. When I hugged her at his funeral service, I told her how much I would miss hearing him hold court regarding baseball and we shared a smile.
The Mr. Whitehead I knew at his passing was obviously quite successful and just as influential as the one that stood tall in his athletic prime in 1955. Although he knew as much about baseball as anyone I ever met, it is his kindness and pleasant demeanor I remember and miss the most.
I hope to see you again some day on the other side Mr. Whitehead, but until then, please know I am rooting for my Pirates to beat your Dodgers. You may have played your last inning, but to me, your spirit will always be behind home plate.
Danny Bridges, who wants to be like Mr. Whitehead when he grows up, can be reached at (317) 578-1780 or at Bridgeshd@aol.com.
