Billy

Let’s go Dodgers. High fives all around.

Because this time, with the newest historical exhibit at Dodger Stadium, the team got it right.

Amid all the historical installations and tributes in the open-air museum that is the Centerfield Plaza, and just a few feet from a Fernando Valenzuela mural, a new display honors Glenn Burke and Billy Bean, two former Dodgers outfielders who were the first and second professional baseball players to come out as gay.

It’s not a fleeting mention on Pride night, it’s a permanent record. A static reminder of progress made — and still to be made. And a much-deserved thank-you.

A wall inside Dodger Stadium honors former Dodgers and LGBTQ+ pioneers Billy Bean and Glenn Burke.

(Ronaldo Bolanos/Los Angeles Times)

“It’ll be here tomorrow, it’ll be here on the weekend and if you come next month, it’ll be here,” said the Dodgers’ team historian Mark Langill, who pointed to a spot just down the hall where in 1976 he was an 11-year-old getting Burke’s autograph.

Baseball is steeped in such history. The personal, the statistical, the societal. And the Dodgers’ is incomplete without their stories — Burke’s and Bean’s.

But the Dodgers have not, of course, always gotten this stuff right.

In 1978, they did Burke wrong, trading him — he believed — after management learned he was gay.

In his three seasons in L.A., Burke had proved himself a capable reserve outfielder who was popular with his teammates.

As far as we know, in 1977, he was the first guy to initiate a high five — spontaneously reaching above his head to slap hands with Dusty Baker after the home run that made Baker the fourth Dodger, along with Ron Cey, Steve Garvey and Reggie Smith, to hit at least 30 home runs that season, a MLB first.

Glenn Burke, left, goes to give a high-five to teammate Dusty Baker after Baker hit a home run in 1977. It is believed to be the first instance a high five was exchanged.

(Los Angeles Times)

There’s a fantastic photo of the historic high five included in the tribute to Burke and Bean, which is situated on a hallway wall beneath the left-field bleachers, beside the “Dodger Dugout” augmented reality photo booth.

Burke was also the first guy in that Dodgers clubhouse to crack a joke when the team needed it, his former teammate Rick Monday said.

“When called upon, he could play really well,” Monday said before the Dodgers took the field against the Angels on Friday, when the Dodgers and many of their rainbow-sporting fans celebrated the team’s 13th annual LGBTQ+ Pride Night. “And when we needed a moment of levity, Glenn was not afraid to come forward and put a smile on people’s face.”

But shortly before he died of AIDS in 1995 at 42, Burke published an autobiography, “Out at Home,” in which he described the team’s management being “afraid of my sexual orientation, even though I never flaunted it. To this day, the Dodgers deny trading me because I was gay. But it was painfully obvious.”

“Oh, what he had to deal with and keep it hid,” said Joyce Burke-Henderson, one of Glenn’s sisters at Friday’s pregame unveiling, where family members of both players gasped and cried and cheered the installation’s reveal.

“But as time went on, people did know. And then I think he came to the point where he just didn’t care and he just told it like it was.”

Joyce Henderson, sister of Glenn Burke, speaks about her brother during a ceremony honoring the former Dodger and LGBTQ+ pioneer at Dodger Stadium Friday.

(Ronaldo Bolanos/Los Angeles Times)

Burke came out in 1982, three years after playing his 225th and final big league game, in an Inside Sports article, “The Double Life of a Gay Dodger.”

“We just appreciate that now people are opening their eyes and just trusting in the Lord,” Burke-Henderson said Friday, “that things will go forward and work out and everybody will be loved regardless of their situation.”

The Dodgers first honored Burke in 2022, at their ninth Pride Night.

The next season, they made a mess of the Pride festivities, inviting and uninviting and then reinviting the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, a group known for its work in support of AIDS patients and whose members dress in drag, as nuns.

In 2023, the Dodgers also invited Bean — who was MLB’s senior vice president for Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. He appeared in a pregame ceremony on the field while protesters gathered outside the stadium.

Bean died the next year, at 60, 11 months after being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia.

Greg Baker, husband of the late Billy Bean, wipes away tears during a tribute honor Bean as a LGBTQ+ pioneer at Dodger Stadium on Friday.

(Ronaldo Bolanos/Los Angeles Times)

Once a Northeast Santa Ana Little Leaguer, Bean became valedictorian at Santa Ana High, played for Loyola Marymount and went on to appear in 272 big-league games — including 51 for the Dodgers in 1989 — before abruptly walking away from baseball in 1995.

It got to be too much, he’d explain later, continuing to hustle to keep his baseball career afloat while keeping his sexuality secret, acutely aware of the blowback he’d get if it got out.

“For nine years,” he told the New York Times, “I felt as though I had one foot in the major leagues and one on a banana peel.”

“When he left baseball suddenly, I knew something was wrong,” Bean’s mother, Linda Kovac, said Friday, pausing to wipe away tears. “He was playing very well, it wasn’t like he was kicked out or anything. And it just didn’t make any sense.”

When Bean finally told his family he was gay, in 1996 — three years before clueing in an unsuspecting public via a Miami Herald article — none of his loved ones blinked. That included his stepfather, Ed Kovac, the homicide cop and former Marine who’d had a partner on the force who was gay.

“He worked with someone that he respected, side by side, on criminal cases,” Linda said. “We’re still friends with that guy.”

Linda and Ed Kovac, parents of Billy Bean, hold hands in front of a tribute dedicated to their son at Dodger Stadium on Friday.

(Ronaldo Bolanos/Los Angeles Times)

Knowing someone — or of someone — who is gay or lesbian has long tended to dispel falsehoods and quell fears that might exist.

“One of the most important things any one of us can do in our community is be out, to be proud,” said Greg Baker, Bean’s husband. “The fact that someone can be out in a world that typically doesn’t have a lot of role models of the same ilk, it’s a brave thing to stick your neck out. It’s also very important.”

And it’s not a surprise, Baker said, that more athletes aren’t out in sports like baseball. Not with Gallup polling released last week telling us that with public acceptance of same-sex marriage and relationships in the U.S. has flattened after two-plus decades of growing support — down from 71% to about 65%.

“I want to thank the Dodgers organization,” Baker said. “It’s brave of them in this day and age to spotlight someone in our community when other organizations are trying to erase us.”

The Dodgers have done the opposite, putting up a permanent marker. A long time coming, a tribute to last.

“Being so close to a childhood dream of mine, to play in a World Cup, and now it has been taken away from me with an injury. It’s been a tough one to get my head around.

“Your support and kind messages over the last few days mean the world to me and haven’t gone unnoticed, so thank you so much.

“I’ll see you all back doing what I love again soon, but until then, let’s get behind the team and cheer them on. Come on Scotland!”

Scotland have qualified for their first World Cup finals since 1998.

Head coach Steve Clarke and his squad left Glasgow for the United States on Sunday and face Bolivia in their final warm-up friendly on Saturday in New Jersey.

Scotland start their Group C campaign against Haiti on Sunday, 14 June before playing Morocco and Brazil.

When the late and great Times sports columnist Mike Downey decided years ago to write about jockey Billy Shoemaker, he did so perfectly. His lead sentence:

“Billy Shoemaker was born 2 pounds 6 ounces and it was the only edge he ever needed in life.”

That remains noteworthy now, because when they run this year’s thoroughbred classic at Churchill Downs on May 2, it will mark 40 years since “Billy The Shoe,” still the third-winningest rider in the sport’s North American history and perhaps its most memorable, won his fourth and last Derby aboard a 17-1 longshot named Ferdinand.

In 1986, Snow Chief was the 3-1 Derby favorite. He was trained by colorful and often grumpy Mel Stute, who was, like Shoemaker, a fixture at Santa Anita. His jockey was a young Alex Solis, who came from Panama, was still struggling with the English language then and had quickly dazzled the Southern California racing world with his talent.

Jockey Bill Shoemaker smiles as he holds a large plaque presented to him at Santa Anita on Jan. 1, 1953, in recognition of winning 484 races. He promptly added to the total by winning the first race of the day.

(David F. Smith / Associated Press)

It was an era in sports somewhat less contentious, more inclined to celebrate its history and its moments and less inclined to look for more. A few weeks earlier, Jack Nicklaus had won the Masters, at age 46. It was a hugely popular outcome, just as Shoemaker’s would be. It was quite the time for legend building, those few months in 1986.

The Derby network telecast brought the comfort of an easy chair. Jim McKay, who had done it for years, took viewers through the likely race scenarios. Al Michaels, whose racing chops were notable well before he asked the world if it believed in miracles and well before the NFL hustled him away to greater fame and fortune, pitched in on the telecast with thoughts on the pageantry and some race angles. A young Michaels, with thick black curly hair and the same distinctive voice, broadcast from the track and touched on the interesting elements of Shoemaker’s presence.

“Ferdinand is at 17-1,” Michaels told the audience. “A few years back, you couldn’t get 17-1 with Shoemaker if he was riding Mr. Ed.”

Shoemaker was already a legend and had already won the Derby three times by then. But any mention of his Derby expertise was, and always would be, sprinkled with a disclaimer about his 1975 ride on Gallant Man, when he misjudged the finish line while leading on the home stretch, pulled up his horse and lost a race he had pretty much won.

In ‘86, that was all soft peddled by the media, which mentioned it more out of duty than reportorial necessity. Ferdinand was, after all, a 17-1 longshot, easier to downplay or ignore. Also, Shoemaker was 54, not exactly an age to be looked upon as a contender. No jockey that age had ever won the Derby — and still hasn’t. There was respect for his seniority, but mostly an assumption that he was the past, not likely the present. He had led North American racing in victories for 29 years, finally totaling 8,833. But much of that happened prior to 1986.

Worst for Shoemaker, he had drawn the No. 1 hole, the starting spot closest to the infield that is usually a death knell for Derby horses. The gate opens and the entire field dashes for the rail, all coming down on top of the 1-hole starter. Shoemaker and Ferdinand held ground for a while, but by the time they got to the back stretch, they were dead last. They were still there as the field got to the top of the home stretch.

Then the cavalry charge to the finish began and Shoemaker went with the crowd, to the outside. At one point in the home stretch run, he was six horses wide.

Then, he made one of those moves that made William Lee Shoemaker “Billy The Shoe.” He saw an opening to his left, squeezed through it and soon had Ferdinand almost to the rail — and in full gallop. Before anybody could analyze what had happened, Ferdinand, carrying a jockey who probably never weighed 100 pounds in his career — thanks to the birth advantage Downey so aptly pointed out years later — was cruising past the leaders and sailing home a winner.

Ferdinand, ridden by Billy Shoemaker, heads down the homestretch to win the Kentucky Derby on May 5, 1986, in Louisville, Ky.

(John Swart / Associated Press)

The victory made legendary trainer Charlie Whittingham a Kentucky Derby winner for the first time. He was 73 and had disliked running young horses in a pressure race such as the Derby. The Triple Crown races are only for three-year-old thoroughbreds. Whittingham won another Derby three years later with Sunday Silence. He trained into his 80s.

Shoemaker’s career rightfully was topped off by that Derby victory, as well as his win in the Breeders’ Cup Classic in 1987.

The aftermath of that 1986 race was less kind, although nobody could take away what Shoemaker had accomplished. The jockey who finished last in the ’86 Derby was Laffit Pincay Jr., who later passed Shoemaker’s North American victory total with 9,530 wins. Pincay’s total was topped by Russell Baze, who took 12,842 wins, but in a riding career that featured wins at lesser tracks against lesser competition. When Baze broke his record, however, Pincay was there to offer his congratulations.

By the time Shoemaker won the 1986 Derby, he had little left to achieve. He not only won 11 Triple Crown races, but he also had won, to mention a few prestigious races, the Hollywood Derby, the Hollywood Gold Cup, the Oak Tree Stakes, the San Luis Obispo and the Santa Anita Derby.

Jockey Billy Shoemaker smiles as he rides Ferdinand, the 1986 Kentucky Derby winner, at Hollywood Park after winning the Breeder’s Cup.

(Bettmann Archive via Getty Images)

Each one eight times.

Shoemaker moved into thoroughbred training after he stopped riding. He was a fixture around Santa Anita, as he had been as a jockey. His success was mixed, certainly less than he had as a jockey.

On April 8, 1991, after a day of golf in the Inland Empire, Shoemaker was headed west on the 210 freeway in San Dimas. The road at that point includes an exit to the right for the 57 freeway south and under the 210. Shoemaker swerved right off the 210 and rolled his Ford Bronco down the embankment, about three stories high, and onto the 57 freeway. Police confirmed he was intoxicated during the crash. Shoemaker suffered a broken neck and spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, from which he continued as a trainer for several years.

Billly Shoemaker is in the winner’s circle at Santa Anita in March 1976 after winning his 7,000th race.

(Associated Press)

Shoemaker eventually sued the state of California because there was no guard rail at the site, the Ford Motor Co., to whom he alleged that the Bronco was a rollover risk, and Glendora Community Hospital for alleged incorrect treatment when he was bought in. Ford paid him at least $1 million, after agreeing to do so if he received no money from the hospital. There is no record of him getting any money from the state of California.

Shoemaker died in October 2013. He remains third on the North American jockey career win list with his 8,833.

Ferdinand was sent to stud in 1989 and sold to a breeding farm in Japan in 1994. In 2002, reports surfaced that Ferdinand had been sent to a slaughter house in Japan, where he became food for either humans or pets, or both. Racing’s indignation over that, as well as that of anger in the general public, prompted the formation by Congress of a bill that would ban the slaughter of horses in the United States.

It never passed.

Billy Donovan has resigned as head coach of the Chicago Bulls, ending his six-season tenure, after missing out on the play-offs.

The Bulls wanted to retain Donovan’s services despite parting company with vice president of basketball operations Arturas Karnisovas and general manager Marc Eversley on 6 April.

Donovan, 66, held an option in his contract for next season but has decided to step down to allow a new coach to rebuild.

“After a series of thoughtful and extensive discussions with ownership regarding the future of the organisation, I have decided to step away as the head coach of the Chicago Bulls, to allow the search process to unfold,” Donovan said.

“I believe it is in the best interest of the Bulls, to allow the new leader to build out the staff as they see fit.”