...and Black Men are from Jupiter

A couple of things landed my mood in a particular team locker room today. You know what I mean, we all have teams. Some of us are golfers, some are recovering-whatevers, some drive faster than we should and some eat way too much garlic.

The point is we have identity markers that come and go and are either used or ignored until the next time they become relevant.

Some people make a living out of being on one team or another. A gay activist or Al Sharpton are examples of professionals in this sense. Recently one of my teams has come under a great deal of scrutiny and I don't mind telling you it is a very somber club house right now.

I won't mention the players that tend to give us a bad name. You know who they are. What I am moved to do here is remember a Golden Age. I want to remind you (and me) of the men who propped up a generation, several generations on broad shoulders and dared us to be better than what America was expecting. One of those men was Bill Willis.

I grew up calling this great athlete, scholar and cultural pioneer 'Uncle Bill' because he was one of my dad's best friends. Dad did not have much of a family growing up. Maybe that's why the family he and mom created was more important to him than anything. So he created a circle of friends, of brothers that stayed in close contact and helped each other every step of the way. That term, brothers, has become something of a team nickname that few understand. Bill Willis and Al Collins understood it. It meant being there, teaching and guiding. It meant doing what is right, period.

Bill Willis achieved great things. He is in several Halls of Fame and deserves every accolade. But what is not inscribed on the plaques is the contribution he made to another team: young men and women of color, and many who do not claim that distinction, who still walk along the path he cleared.

No matter what team you are on, we are all better because of men like these.