Dick Allen’s (z”l) passing takes me back to Connie Mack Stadium watching games with my grandfather. When Dick Allen got razzed by Phillies fans, in a style that only Philadelphia fans can dish out, my grandfather was outraged. I couldn’t tell what my grandfather was saying when he chose to be an upstander, rather than a bystander, and shook his head and cursed at the other fans in Yiddish. But you didn’t have to understand Yiddish to tell that my grandfather had zero tolerance for the racist taunts that Allen received. He was glad that his team’s ace player was breaking barriers that he believed had no place in America in the 1960s – and he wanted impressionable kids around him to share his joy and his sense of justice, every time that Allen worked his magic as the Phillies’ most prolific power hitter. As young kids, we learn a lot watching how our parents and grandparents respond to events around us. I saw a lot of enabling and piling on. And I saw my grandfather take a stand.
Dick Allen had a unique style of showing courage and Making Courage Contagious. He was the first African-American player in the last American baseball team to include non-white players. Allen was no Jackie Robinson. He didn’t just take it, without fighting back or mouthing off. He was the first proud indigant joyful black star that most white or Jewish preteen kids saw in a Philadelphia that was still divided into ethnic enclaves. Allen’s courage was intimidating – not just because of what he did personally in the spotlight, when he was taunted, but because of what he ignited around him. Allen stood for Black Lives Matter, before BLM was a movement. He was the anti-Rizzo. He wasn’t just the star who got into fights defending himself and got his attacker fired or disciplined. He made us painfully aware of the anger and resentment lurking in the shadows. He paid a price for being such a controversial figure. And so did we. It’s a Colin Kapernick injustice that he didn’t live to see his induction into the Hall of Fame.
So, RIP, Dick Allen. And thanks. You did a lot to bend the arc of justice. You were fun to watch, every time you picked up a bat and came to the plate. Your joyful presence, your humor and your pride Made Courage Contagious. Your starpower and persona sparked many uncomfortable uplifting ennobling conversations – like the ones I saw my grandfather start, talking to people around him or talking to the radio or TV. Like many pioneers of your era, you’ve left us a lasting legacy. May we remember all you contributed, every time we look at your retired number – 15 – hanging as a tribute in the Phillies’ stadium. And may we do you proud, as you look down at us from above and cheer us rounding third base to score.
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Merom Klein PhD + Louise Yochee Klein PsyD are the authors of Make Courage Contagious, showing innovation leaders how to profit from turbulence by bringing diverse stars together and making the most of conflicting perspectives. Klein + Klein are business psychologists who head Courage Growth Partners, an innovation leadership consultancy for businesses who are stretching old boundaries and preparing high-potential leaders for transformational growth assignments.
