A Giant Cause
How the
By Natali Del Conte
It sounds like a cliche: A San Francisco organization hosts an
event to benefit HIV and AIDS organizations. But in 1994 it was anything but
cliche when the San Francisco Giants became the first professional sports team
to raise money to combat the disease.
The event was the first annual "Until There's A Cure" baseball
game. For every ticket sold that day in 1994, the San Francisco Giants donated
$1 to the Until There's A Cure (UTAC) foundation, which raises money to fund
services, education and advocacy to combat HIV and AIDS. In its inaugural year,
the game raised $115,000. On
The man largely responsible for the event is Larry Baer, Executive
Vice President and Chief Operating Officer of the San Francisco Giants. As Baer
remembers, "We had only owned the team for a year at that point, and we wanted
to come up with an initiative that addressed a big issue in our community and in
a way that no one could hide [from]." Not surprisingly, the big issue chosen by
the Giants organization was the AIDS epidemic. After researching a variety of
nonprofits and charitable organizations, the team selected Until There's a Cure
because the scope and flexibility of the foundation allowed them to address
different parts of AIDS epidemic each year.
UTAC was founded by Kathleen Scutchfield in 1993, just one year
before the Giants got involved. The organization concentrates on three areas of
HIV/AIDS advocacy: care and service for those living with the disease at any
stage, prevention and education, and vaccine research and development. This
broad, multifaceted approach was so appealing to the Giants that for the first
time in the team's history, proceeds from ticket sales were used to support an
event. But even more important than the money raised was the awareness created
by the Giants profile as a professional sports
team.
As Baer says, "In 1994, a professional sports team tackling-in an
assertive way-the issue of AIDS was not at all on the radar for anyone. It was
not the standard operating procedure. The perception was that there was an array
of dynamics against it, from teams with macho ballplayers to fans mirroring
that."
"We said, 'forget about all that.' We had a manager and a bunch of
players that were deeper thinkers, who understood what AIDS was and wasn't, and
had a community that was open to receiving that message from these players and
an organization that wanted to make an impact in something that could really
move the needle. Doing a standard benefit for a standard cause would not impact
people, but because AIDS was the least likely institution for us to tackle, it
made an impact."
"Quite honestly, we didn't know what to expect when we decided to
hold the [first Until There's A Cure] game," Baer told the Associated Press in
1995. "There were those who told me, 'You're taking a big risk. This is still a
very controversial and misunderstood issue in this community and communities
around the country.' But this team decided that this was something we couldn't
afford not to do."
True enough, other teams were muttering under their breath,
especially because part of the event calls for both teams to unite in formation
on the field to create the red AIDS ribbon. The plan also went against
baseball's established team protocols. Teams do not fraternize before or after
the game as they do in basketball or football. Teams uniting to create the
iconic red ribbon was unique and daring. And in the history of the event, only
one player has refused to be a part of the ribbon.
Naturally, Major League Baseball was nervous about the event, but
allowed the giants to move forward. A few years after the inaugural event, the
Atlanta Braves were the first team to follow the Giants lead. Other teams have
since followed suit. Now, "Until There's a Cure" day is not only a resounding
success for many Major League Baseball teams, it is one of the most anticipated
events in the gay and lesbian community. In fact, the event has been so popular
that several teams have recently created appreciation days and "Out at the Park"
events for gay and lesbian fans.
Undeniably, as the face of the team, the players were incredibly
courageous in those first years, but the real risk-taker was Baer. At 49, Baer
was willing to bring up the uncomfortable and the inconvenient to the sporting
community. He was willing to risk the reputation of the Giants in order to
spread the word that AIDS is a serious, highly preventable disease deserving
national attention. But he also was confident that baseball was a unique vehicle
for this issue. "I think that baseball is so core to [our] community that was
inevitable we would be first," he says. "You have ballparks in the city centers
and they are community gathering places. We find that [baseball] is
inter-generational more than any other sport. Sons and fathers and grandfathers
and others realize that baseball, at its core, is about team and family. The
game has a pace that allows time to reflect and share and talk. There is a
different rhythm than basketball or football. It's a spirit of old city centers.
When people come to these games they are more community
based."
As a Baer fourth generation San Franciscan and a lifelong Giants
fan, Baer knows what he is talking about. After finishing his bachelor's degree
at U.C. Berkeley, he joined the Giants in 1980 as the club's Marketing Director.
He left the team in 1983 to earn his MBA at Harvard. After graduate school, he
spent four years with Westinghouse Broadcasting in
Baer is also used to leading the Giants down controversial paths.
He was largely responsible for making the Giants the first team since 1962 to
privately fund their own ballpark at a time whenthe club was considering leaving
"We had to go out and aggressively figure out a way to keep the
Giants in
should pay for their own facilities."
The ballpark, which certainly did not come cheap, is now regarded
as one of the best in Major League Baseball. It got a chance to shine in the
national spotlight this summer when it hosted the 2007 All-Star
Game.
"We didn't really want to have the All-Star Game in year one or
year two or year three of our ballpark," Baer said. "Some teams do. We felt that
we would treat the All-Star Game as a second opening of our ballpark." In the
first seven years at
The title of COO was added to Bear's business cards in May of
1996. But in his heart he is first and foremost a fan. Says Baer, "One of the
things I enjoy at this job is the great satisfaction I get walking the upper
deck on a Sunday afternoon. I see fathers and daughters and families and friends
together in a communal environment. I have always liked that community
component. And with this team we have a chance to create positive change in a
community. [We] can use the power to leverage all that is a club: the team, the
park, radio and tv. It really is quite powerful."
Would Baer have done anything different that day in 1994? He says
quickly, "We got a lot of coverage, but frankly I would have done it in 1993 if
I could! But we also try to revitalize the event every year. We have added
fireworks and music over time to keep the event fresh." Baer thinks for a moment
and says, "But ultimately, our goal is to eliminate the program, because that
will mean there is a cure."