If the spring sports season had unfolded as normal, Donta’ Williams likely would be a professional baseball player right now.
The UA center fielder was on pace to set career marks in just about every category when the coronavirus pandemic brought everything to a halt. The junior unquestionably would have been selected in the MLB draft if it hadn’t been shortened to five rounds.
“I totally believe that,” Williams said. “But things happen. It’s all in God’s plan.”
Williams has big plans for himself and his sport. It’s possible the cancellation of the final three quarters of the 2020 college baseball season will better position him to achieve them.
When the Arizona Wildcats return for the 2021 campaign — pandemic permitting — Williams will be one of the team’s headliners. Not only will he be penciled into the top of the lineup, Williams will be in a prime position to further what has become his life’s work — to help change both the game and society.
Williams was the only African American on the ’20 UA baseball team — hardly an unusual circumstance in the sport. In 2019, according to the NCAA’s demographics database, only 6.2% of Division I baseball players were Black. That figure was up slightly from recent years but remained considerably lower than the percentages in football (48.7) and men’s basketball (56). It also fell in line with MLB’s opening-day rosters in 2019 (7.7).
“Donta’s in a great situation,” said Justin Wylie, Williams’ teammate in ’19 and a fellow African American. “He has a voice that can be heard. Because of the (current) social climate, people are eager to listen and to help.”
Williams, 21, has something to say. A lot actually. His message mainly is geared toward kids who look like him and have similar ambitions. Williams’ advice: Go for it, no matter how marginalized you might feel at times.
“If you want to make a difference, you have to dream about it and work to get to that (point),” Williams said. “It may feel uncomfortable sometimes; it may feel weird that you’re the only Black person out there. But at that point, it’s not about yourself. It’s about paving the way for people, other young Black athletes coming up.”
Williams wants to be a leader in that endeavor. He wants to be a role model. He wants the African American community to reconnect with baseball – the game he loves and misses dearly.
Frustration and support
Arizona’s promising season ended March 8. Williams was batting .348 at the time with a .527 on-base percentage — tied for team-high honors with first-round draft pick Austin Wells. The Wildcats’ leadoff hitter had almost twice as many walks (15) as strikeouts (eight).
“All that is a reflection for the type of person that he is,” UA coach Jay Johnson said. “He’s worked himself into becoming a really good player.”
Williams was supposed to participate in the Sun Belt College Baseball League with UA teammates Jacob Blas and Tony Bullard. But the league was canceled in mid-June when a player tested positive for COVID-19.
“It’s heartbreaking,” Williams said of not being able to play ball. “But at the same time, it gave me a chance to sit back and just think about the real issues in life.”
Those thoughts became serious conversations in late May. On Memorial Day — which might have normally been a joyous occasion for the Wildcats had they made the NCAA Tournament — George Floyd, an unarmed Black man, was killed while being arrested by Minneapolis police.
The incident spawned protests, a nationwide social-justice movement and frank dialogue in the Williams household. Donta’ is the middle of three children. Their father, Harry, is a neighborhood outreach specialist for the city of Las Vegas. Their mother, Cheryl, is a pastor.
“Everywhere we go,” Dante’ and his siblings were reminded, “we have to act like there’s a target on our back.”
“There was a lot of frustration going on at the time, a lot of emotions,” Williams said. “It was just like, ‘We’re tired of it. Enough is enough. Things like this can’t keep happening.’”
After video of the Floyd incident went viral, the first person Johnson called was Williams. Johnson has known Williams since he began recruiting the speedy outfielder as an eighth-grader.
Johnson, who is white, wanted to let Williams know that he was “fully supported” by the baseball program. Williams wasn’t surprised to see Johnson’s name pop up on his cell phone.
“I don’t think words can (describe) the way I feel about our relationship,” Williams said. “What we’ve built to this point is something that can never be taken from the two of us. It’s just like loyalty, honesty — just being there for each other from Day 1.”
Williams said he feels a similar connection with his fellow Wildcats, most of whom are white. He referred to them multiple times as “my brothers” during a 35-minute phone interview this week.
“I had so many text messages, calls from teammates when George Floyd got murdered,” Williams said. “It was just nothing but support.”
Williams’ teammates backed him as he had them earlier in the year. When he found out the season was going to be canceled after just 15 games, Williams thought about two things: the team, which was just starting to click; and the team’s seniors, whose college careers seemingly were ending.
“At that point,” Williams said, “you take the focus off yourself and give them your attention — show that you’re there for them and care for them.”
Three of those seniors were Williams’ roommates: relief pitchers Nate Brown, Preston Price and Vince Vannelle. Price and Vannelle will be back with the club next season.
Access and mentorship
Arizona will add a second African American player to the roster when freshman Chase Davis arrives on campus. The UA had two during Williams’ freshman year — Williams and outfielder Matt Fraizer. The Wildcats had three in 2019 when Wylie joined the team as a graduate transfer. Fraizer, Williams and Wylie started together in the outfield on March 16 of that year against Utah, an occasion they commemorated with a photo before the game.
NCAA demographic data is available from 2012-19, and last year’s 6.2% participation rate for African Americans was the highest over that span. The Pac-12 Conference had between 12 and 19 Black baseball players annually during that time, an average of less than two per school.
Williams played other sports as a youth, but baseball is the one that stuck — even though he sometimes was the only African American on his team.
His favorite player was Ken Griffey Jr. — like Williams, a Black, left-handed center fielder. Williams admired Griffey’s “swag” and his swing.
“He had the shoe game,” Williams said. “He carried himself like a champ. Who wouldn’t want to be in that position?”
Judging by the numbers, not many African Americans. Black participation in MLB peaked in the decade before Griffey was drafted in 1987, hovering around 18%. It has been in single digits since 2005.
Griffey addressed the issue last April, telling USA Today: “We have to find a way to get these kids back. We lost them to football. We lost them to basketball. … People don’t see how cool and exciting this game is.”
Wylie, who produced a podcast series for his master’s thesis on the challenges African American student-athletes face in society, said the biggest deterrent is cost.
“A lot of players don’t have the money to spend on batting gloves, helmets, tournament fees,” Wylie said. “A lot of kids in the inner city, they need funding, scholarships, foundations to help with those costs.”
Wylie believes MLB and the NCAA should provide more financial support. He suggested, as many others have, that 11.7 scholarships per team for baseball isn’t enough.
“Kids from the inner city need a full scholarship,” Wylie said. “They choose basketball or football because they can get that full support.”
Williams’ parents always encouraged him. He describes them as hardworking and admires their no-quit attitude. They provided for him what he hopes to impart to others who might want to pursue his path: mentorship.
Even if it’s just a conversation or a lunch, Williams wants aspiring Black ballplayers to know he cares about their journey. Even if they’re the only African American on their team, Williams wants them to know they’re not alone. In that way, he can be an agent of change.
“Being a good example,” Williams said. “Showing people our worth as Black individuals, not just in athletics, but in the real world, in society. Standing out in the community. Just doing everything that my mom and dad would want me to do.”
Williams isn’t Griffey, who hit 630 big-league home runs and entered the Hall of Fame in 2016. But if he can inspire even one kid to try to be the next Donta’ Williams, he’ll have accomplished something.