Harry Edwards' indelible impact stretches beyond Bay Area. Who will follow in his footsteps?

San Francisco Chronicle​

14-05-2025

Where is the next Harry Edwards?
For almost 60 years, Edwards has been a voice of truth, a force for racial and social justice, a provocateur who will challenge and change you, provoke and enlighten you.
And in these regressive times, when forces are working to undo decades of the progress and purpose to which he has devoted his life, Edwards — 82 and battling two forms of cancer — is 'just trying to get as much done with the time that I have.'
Edwards, who will be inducted into the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame on Thursday night, was at the forefront of the civil rights movement in the 1960s and has continued his work ever since. Though he is revered around the world, and his influence reaches far beyond the Bay Area, this has been home since 1960, when he ended up at — what he called at the time — 'San Jo-zy.'
'This is my home,' said Edwards, who has lived with his wife in the same home in Fremont for 55 years. 'Any time you are honored at home, it's tremendously humbling.'
Who will be the next Edwards?
'Each generation molds and gives voice to the leaders of that era,' Edwards said. 'We've never been able to see these people coming. Nobody saw (Muhammad) Ali coming. Nobody saw Bill Russell coming. Nobody saw Barack Obama coming.
'We can't see these movements, these leaders, coming. But one thing history teaches us emphatically: They are on their way.'
No one saw Edwards coming. Raised in East St. Louis, Ill., he came to California in hopes of playing football at USC, inspired because the Trojans had a Black quarterback (Willie Wood), a Jewish lineman (Ron Mix) and an assistant coach (Al Davis) who stood up publicly for them in the face of hate. But Edwards didn't have the grades and had to go to community college.
He ended up at Fresno City College but couldn't handle the valley heat. A San Jose State coach also from East St. Louis — boxing legend Julius Menendez — recruited Edwards north. Edwards, figuring the climate would be more temperate, headed to the Bay Area. When he arrived, he met the 1960 Olympic boxing team that Menendez was coaching, which included a brash, trash-talking youngster Edwards' same age named Cassius Clay.
'I thought he was nuts,' Edwards remembers of Clay's animated manner. 'I had no idea the relationship we would have, that we would be involved in this much broader struggle.'
Edwards played basketball and ran track for the Spartans and experienced firsthand the racism that Black athletes faced. After completing his degree, Edwards enrolled in a Ph.D. program at Cornell. He headed back to San Jose State to complete his dissertation, and began publishing books and teaching a sport and society class. The course was popular with athletes, including SJSU's famed Speed City track stars. The rest is history.
Edwards' imprint is all over the Bay Area. There is a statue at San Jose State depicting John Carlos' and Tommie Smith's Black Power salute at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, a protest born from Edwards' Olympic Project for Human Rights. Nearby on campus is the Institute for the Study of Sport, Society and Social Change, which Edwards launched, the embodiment of an academic discipline that Edwards single-handedly created.
Up the road are the San Francisco 49ers, where Edwards has served as a consultant since he was brought on by Bill Walsh in the mid-1980s. Together he and Walsh created the Bill Walsh Diversity Fellowship coaching program that has mentored many NFL coaches and continues to this day. Edwards has been a confidante of Colin Kaepernick and advised NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. Edwards has consulted with other teams and leagues, including the Golden State Warriors, to advance minority involvement in management. His work with Major League Baseball to increase management opportunities for Black candidates resulted in the San Francisco Giants hiring Dusty Baker.
But perhaps Edwards' greatest impact on the Bay Area can't be linked to a specific team or sports moment. It was his 30 years as a sociology professor at UC Berkeley, teaching his extremely popular Sociology of Sport class, which packed students into large lecture halls. There was a saying that if you had gone to Berkeley and hadn't taken Doc Edwards' class, you hadn't really gone to Berkeley.
Captivating tens of thousands of students over the decades, he opened eyes and minds, informed and provoked, inspired and ignited. Edwards' lectures poked holes in conventional wisdom, tore down sports iconography and argued forcefully that sports not only reflects what America truly is but is also a powerful force for change.
Cal athletes were warned not to take Edwards' class, because 'it will turn your head around,' Edwards remembers. But then he would look up into the lecture hall seats and see Jason Kidd or Ron Rivera or other prominent Cal Bears. Edwards said the university deliberately tried to schedule his class during what were practice windows for athletes, but they still managed to enroll.
Would the Trump administration be targeting Edwards' discipline, the very epitome of an argument for diversity, equity and inclusion?
'Oh, I know what they'd think about my class,' Edwards said. 'Because I know what they think about the National Museum of African American History and Culture. They want to shut it down. And the largest exhibit in that museum is the leveling of the sports field.'
Edwards' work is featured prominently in that museum, which is part of the Smithsonian Institution. In March, President Donald Trump issued an order targeting funding for programs he claims promote 'divisive narratives' and 'improper ideology' — specifically singling out the acclaimed and popular African American history museum in Washington, D.C.
'We are fighting battles that we thought were won,' Edwards said. 'We're fighting again over terrain we thought was conquered. Like Roe vs. Wade, like voting rights, like justice and equality under the law.'
'I feel extremely positive about this generation,' he said. 'Social media — which has a lot of problems, a lot of false information — is also a tool of organization and mobilization that movements have never had before.'
Edwards changed his mind about getting treatment for his cancer, deciding to undergo grueling radiation therapy at the urging of his family. He has completed a documentary series called 'The Last Lectures.' He continues to work with the 49ers regularly. He spends as much time with his grandchildren as possible.
'What do you want to do with the time that you have?' he asks himself. 'Continue to contribute.'
We don't know where the next Harry Edwards is. But this one has changed the world.