In “The Black Ball,” John and his son’s conversation about the white and black balls represents the constant risk that bias, suspicion, and misinterpretation pose for Black people under Jim Crow. After a white boy throws John’s son’s ball into the building manager Mr. Berry’s office, Berry threatens that John will end up “behind the black ball” if his son plays in the front yard again. This phrase has multiple layers of meaning. Berry is referencing blackballing—banning or firing someone, often for prejudiced reasons. This phrase is also an earlier version of the saying “behind the eight-ball,” which means to be in a difficult position. Lastly, “eight-ball” and “black ball” were also common racial slurs in the early 20th century.
John’s son doesn’t understand Berry’s threat. He naïvely points out that his ball is white, not black, and asks if he will get to play with the black ball in the future. John cynically thinks that his son is already playing with the black ball (facing racial exclusion and injustice) but will only later learn the game’s rules (how racism works). Clearly, this misunderstanding represents how young Black people must learn to safely navigate interactions with white people under Jim Crow. But readers can interpret the precise meaning of the white and black balls in different ways. One version is that, while John’s son knows that the ball is white (that the white boy threw the ball into Berry’s window), Berry ends up talking about the black ball instead (or blaming John’s son). Another is that John’s son thinks in terms of the white ball—the rules that apply to white people—because he doesn’t yet understand racism, but he will soon learn to fear the black ball—the different rules that apply to Black people.
The White and Black Balls Quotes in The Black Ball
“Well, if I ever see him around here again, you’re going to find yourself behind the black ball. Now get him on round to the back and then come up here and clean up this mess he’s made.”
“Will I play with the black ball, Daddy?”
“In time son,” I said. “In time.”
He had already played with the ball; that he would discover later. He was learning the rules of the game already, but he didn’t know it. Yes, he would play with the ball. Indeed, poor little rascal, he would play until he grew sick of playing. My, yes, the old ball game. But I’d begin telling him the rules later.
My hand was still burning from the scratch as I dragged the hose out to water the lawn, and looking down at the iodine stain, I thought of the fellow’s fried hands, and felt in my pocket to make sure I still had the card he had given me. Maybe there was a color other than white on the old ball.