Singled out The true story of Glenn Burke

Review by Booklist Review

Ever high-fived anyone? If so, you have former Major League baseball player Glenn Burke to thank, for he invented the gesture in 1977. His "invention" might be considered a footnote to history, but a more enduring contribution is Burke's having become the first Major League baseball player to come out as gay. Maraniss' excellent exercise in narrative nonfiction tells Burke's dramatic and ultimately tragic story. At age 19, the preternaturally gifted teen signed a contract with the Los Angeles Dodgers and spent the next 6 seasons working his way up through the ranks, debuting as a Major League player in 1976. Highly extroverted, funny, and charismatic, Burke was a favorite with his teammates, who had no idea that, when away from the team, he was leading the life of an openly gay man. As this gradually became an open secret among his teammates, however, rampantly homophobic management essentially drove Burke out of baseball and into an early grave. Maraniss does an extraordinary job of recording this memorable life in black-and-white photographs and fluid, compelling writing that is both biography and de facto history of gay rights and the depredations of homophobia. This valuable resource is further strengthened by generous back matter, which includes carefully detailed notes, a list of sources, a bibliography, baseball statistics and charts, and a gay-rights time line.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up--A pioneering athlete's life is examined through the intersection of gay rights, race, and Major League Baseball. Glenn Burke rose to acclaim in the 1970s as part of the L.A. Dodgers. Charismatic, popular, and phenomenally talented, Burke, who was Black and gay but not out, worked his way through the team's farm system. He longed to reconcile his image with his true self, and in 1982 Burke, who is credited with inventing the cultural phenomenon of the high five, came out in a magazine article and a Today show interview. Burke struggled with drug addiction and eventually fell on devastatingly hard times, at times incarcerated, unhoused, and unemployed. He died of complications from AIDS in 1995. By looking at the social and political climates and incorporating the history of gay rights and activism, Maraniss shows what the world was like for gay people in the 1970s and 1980s, with no openly gay athletes, a homophobic sports world, and the AIDS crisis taking hold. Short sections, photographs, and quotes from Maraniss's many interviews keep the deeply immersive story moving. Extensive back matter proves to be as essential reading as the main text. Detailed source notes provide more information on people quoted, events of the time, issues in MLB, and explanations of references. A bibliography, baseball statistics, a gay rights time line, selection of Black American LGBTQ people to know and study, and an index round out the work. VERDICT This remarkable tribute to a trailblazer is narrative nonfiction at its finest.--Amanda MacGregor, Parkview Elem. Sch., Rosemount, MN

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Burke was baseball's first openly gay athlete -- but he didn't come out publicly until after homophobia had ended his fledgling major league career. Maraniss follows the African American athlete's rise and fall from his Berkeley, California, childhood; to playing in the minor leagues and for the LA Dodgers; to drug addiction, homelessness, and HIV/AIDS. Sports writer Maraniss's compelling narrative weaves together sports action, social history, and first-person reflections for a rich biography of a talented yet troubled figure who was forced to lead a double life to chase his dreams. The extensive back matter includes a list of interviewees, bibliography, stats, "U.S. Gay Rights Timeline," an annotated list of other "significant Black American LGBTQ figures," and an unseen index. (c) Copyright 2023. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

The story of a baseball player whose life serves as testimony to where we've come from and how far we still have to go. In 1977, Burke was a gay Black man playing center field for the Los Angeles Dodgers in the World Series; by 1995, he would be dead at 42 due to complications of AIDS. Maraniss meticulously charts a path from Burke's Berkeley, California, upbringing as an all-around athlete through his relatively brief but significant MLB stint to San Francisco's Tenderloin District, where he struggled through addiction, incarceration, poverty, housing insecurity, and sickness in the final chapters of his life. The author presents a critical interpretation of Burke's life, juxtaposing interviews with contemporaries with accounts of 1969's Stonewall uprising, Anita Bryant's anti--gay rights campaign, and Magic Johnson's 1991 HIV announcement. This creates a compelling narrative, offering helpful context for young readers in a complicated account of race, sexuality, and a dream deferred, yet it pushes Burke from the foreground, centering the national media and sports establishments that used and critiqued Burke's body and what he did with it. Not exactly a biography, this is a meticulously researched history of the ways queer culture in the '70s intersected with baseball, Blackness, and larger culture wars, with one man at their center. Burke was so impressive a figure, his story so gripping, that this book holds unquestionable merit. (notes, interviews, bibliography, baseball statistics, timeline, Black LGBTQ+ individuals, index) (Nonfiction. 12-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Chapter 1 Joy And Pain Bobby Haskell had learned not to be surprised by anything he encountered on the blustery streets and alleys of San Francisco's Tenderloin district. In the early 1990s it was his job to scour these places, looking for the people most of society preferred to ignore, the drug addicts, sex workers, and runaways, the sick and the dying. As a therapist and homeless advocate for the Tom Waddell Clinic, Haskell's mission was to find these men and women, to earn their trust, and to educate them on the health care services available to them through the clinic, to offer a human connection in a world in which they felt all alone. Haskell has never forgotten the day he walked into one of the many cheap hotels in the seedy Tenderloin in search of a homeless man his boss had asked him to track down. To call these places hotels was a stretch; they weren't national chains that offered free breakfast, a pool, and cable TV. Instead they were the kinds of dingy hostels that locked the fire escapes to keep people from skipping out on their bills. A bar of soap was a luxury. But for the men and women who could scrape together enough money (typically less than $10 a night), a room here was a step up from living on the street, even if just for a month, a week, or a day. Haskell found the room he was looking for and knocked on the door. Even by the dismal standards of the Tenderloin, this was the barest room he'd ever seen. No furniture; just a mattress in the corner. And on that mattress was a Black man, curled up in the fetal position, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. The man was sobbing and soaked in sweat, crying tears Haskell recognized from years on the streets: tears of hopelessness, fear, and drugs. Haskell sat cross-legged on the floor, not preaching, not judging, only offering conversation and information about his clinic's social and medical services. Gradually the man stopped crying. There was a spark in his eyes and the hint of a muscular, athletic body. In this godforsaken place, he still exuded charm and charisma. The man on the mattress spoke with the ease of someone accustomed to meeting new people. He began to share the story of his life, telling tales of athletic feats on the playgrounds of Berkeley, California, of a professional baseball career that had carried him to the game's highest peak, of the brief but joyful days of freedom and light when he was one of the most popular men in town. Bobby Haskell had heard all kinds of bizarre stories from people on the streets. One man had insisted that the FBI had planted radios in his thumbs; another claimed to be a Vietnam veteran suffering from PTSD, though he was far too young to have served in that war. But Haskell was savvy enough to know the difference between lies and schizophrenia and the strange but true. So when the man sitting across from him said he had once played for the Los Angeles Dodgers, had started in center field in Game 1 of the 1977 World Series, and had even invented the high five, Bobby believed him. The man on the mattress? His name was Glenn Burke. Excerpted from Singled Out: The True Story of Glenn Burke by Andrew Maraniss All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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