Give it up …

Posted: October 25th, 2007 | Filed under: Baseball | 14 Comments »

So here’s how I found out about the Hall of Fame honoring Buck O’Neil: I was in the Tokyo Airport desperately trying to figure out how to get to Sapporo for the Japan Series. I was beyond exhausted, of course, jet lagged out of my mind, and a certain airline had screwed up my ticket, and 57 very nice Japanese people were trying (and generally failing) to help me. The world cell phone I had ordered specially for the occasion was not dialing out (well, it was dialing, but I kept getting this recording of a Japanese woman telling me, “Oh no, you may not call out of our country, you silly American” — well, that’s what it SEEMED like she was saying).

And generally, I had this feeling that absolutely nothing was right in the world. People sometimes ask me what the worst part of my job is, and I always tell them that there is no worst part of being a professional sports writer, but that’s a bit disingenuous. Travel sucks. It doesn’t suck once you get to the place, but the actual process — dealing with screwed up airline tickets, canceled flights, last minute arrangements, lost luggage, hotel mix-ups, impossible-to-park situations, etc. — sucks because you are entirely helpless. One person’s incompetence can leave you sweating through your shirt in a Tokyo airport and furiously dialing your phone again and again into the recording of the peppy Japanese woman who is saying something you don’t understand but is definitely not letting you dial out.

So I tried to get on the Internet. You might think that Japan, being Japan, would have the greatest Internet access on earth. You might think that in a country this advanced you don’t even need a computer, you just think real hard and you get on the Internet. Well, it isn’t true. Wireless Internet, apparently, has not been a big priority here, which means that there’s only one wireless provider at the airport in Tokyo and it — let me speak technically here for a moment — doesn’t work. Well, it works for a minute, and then it goes off, and then it works again, then it goes off again. And every time the wireless comes back to life, it charges you several hundred Yen to get back on. So for a good 30 minutes or so, I had managed to spend about 200,000 yen and once almost made to my email account before the wireless died again.

You hear people say it all the time: How did we live before the Internet and cell phones? I’ll tell you how: We screamed a lot. All sorts of bizarre thoughts were rushing through my mind while I kept trying to dial out on my cell phone and kept trying to sign on to the Internet, all while the clock ticked and those nice Japanese women from the airline offered moral encouragement by way of smiling and mouthing, “I’m so sorry,” every time I looked over. The main thought was that I was going to die in the Tokyo Airport.

And then, finally, I broke through, Apparently there was some sort of Internet malfunction, and I was able to stay on line for a good 10 minutes before the signal faded out. That was all I needed. I furiously typed in about 900 different things, managed to single out where the screw up came from, isolated it, got my phone cleared, made some calls, got my ticket, I mean, seriously, I was like Ed Harris in Apollo 13. Work the problem, people. It’s amazing what a person can do when their flight in Japan is about to leave them behind — it’s sort of like the technical equivalent of the super-strength you are supposed to get when you find yourself crushed under an extremely large object such as a car or Jon Favreau.

(I kid Jon Favreau because I love the guy and, let’s be honest, he’s looking more and more like me every day. Look at this picture. Seriously add some glasses, maybe a few pounds … I’m wondering if I could get Heather Graham to dance).

Anyway, I got it all cleared up, raced to the gate, signed on to the Internet one more time because I had not spent quite enough Yen getting on the Internet, and that’s when I saw the email from my buddy Mike Vaccaro of The New York Post. It said, simply, “I assume you saw what they did for Buck tonight.”

Of course, I had not (I had also missed Game 1 of the World Series — real shame. I’m sure it was closer than the 13-1 score might indicate. Wow. I had already predicted that the winner of Game 1 would win the Series, and that if Boston won Game 1 then it would not go more than five games. Of course, as Joe Garagiola says, “Baseball is a funny game,” and as Joe Nuxhall says, “If you swing the bat you’re dangerous,” and as Bob Brenly says, “Warm up Oscar Villarreal again — no, I don’t care that he pitched the last five days.” In other words, anything is possible. But I think there’s a pretty good shot now that the Red Sox roll, and then we all remember one very important thing about the Rockies amazing streak … it was against National League teams).

So, I looked up the news on Buck and saw that not only will the Baseball Hall of Fame folks put up a statue honoring Buck, but they will take the advice that several of us have offered and create a new “Buck O’Neil Lifetime Achievement Award” that will honor people who made baseball a better game.

I was already pretty emotional before I saw the news. But when I saw the news, yeah, I felt a little bit like I do at the end of “Brian’s Song.” Good on ya, Baseball Hall of Fame.

You know, the Hall of Fame always wanted to honor Buck O’Neil. I know some people there, and I’ve talked with them, and I know they genuinely appreciated Buck’s impact as a successful player in the Negro Leagues, successful manager in the Negro Leagues, brilliant Major League scout, first African American coach in the Major Leagues, pioneer and spokesman for the game. Heck, he had been involved with the Hall of Fame for about 30 years. They got it. They appreciated him.

I believe this was the main reason that in 2005 they created a special committee of academics and historians to elect forgotten and overlooked Negro Leaguers into the Hall of Fame in the first place. Hey, the Hall of Fame is, above all else, a museum that celebrates baseball. They want visitors. They want attention. They want to make people feel good about the game. I don’t think, to be brutally frank about this, that they created that committee so that 17 dead people that America had never heard of would get their day.

No, I think they expected that Buck O’Neil would get voted in. And I think they got blindsided. The committee, of course, did not vote for Buck. That’s well-covered (and yet still mysterious) ground. They voted in those 17 dead — some very deserving, some not so much. There was some public outrage. But not from Buck. On the day of the induction ceremony in Cooperstown, who led the congregation in song? Who else? Buck O’Neil. That’s just the kind of guy he was. He was already sick by then. I don’t think I’ve written this before — maybe I have, I can’t remember — but the day after Buck spoke on behalf of the 17 Negro Leagues inductees in Cooperstown, I was master of ceremonies at an event in Kansas City. Buck — being Buck — was there.

I went up to give him a hug and to tease him a little bit. You know, Buck always began his speeches with the same bit, a shortened version which goes like this: “I’ve been a lot of places and done a lot of things that I liked doing. I hit the home run. I hit the grand slam home run. I hit for the cycle. I got a hole in one in golf. I shook hands with President Truman. I shook hands with President Clinton. And I hugged Hillary.”

That always got them laughing, Republicans, Democrats, Independents — the “I hugged Hillary” part was his guaranteed laugh line. Well, you may or may not have noticed it, but on that day in Cooperstown, he went through the bit only he said: “I shook hands with President Truman. I shook hands with, uh, er, that other President. And I hugged Hillary.”

So the next day, at the event, I said to Buck: “I cannot believe you forgot President Clinton’s name after all the times you’ve said that intro.”

He looked at me blankly, He had no idea what I was talking about. It was a scary look — the only time I ever saw it on the face of Buck. And that’s when I knew something wasn’t right. A week later he was in the hospital for the first time. About two months later, he was gone.

The timing of his death made a lot of people think that the Hall of Fame snub had something to do with it, and I just never bought into that. He was 94 years old, almost 95. He had lived. He had survived much greater disappointments. He had not been allowed to attend Sarasota High School. He had been turned away at restaurants and hotels for the first half of his life. He not been given the chance to play in the Major Leagues or (I think this bothered him) manage in the Major Leagues. He had more than survived.

But, the timing DID make you wonder what the Hall of Fame could do. On the day of his funeral, the Hall released a statement saying they would find a way to honor Buck. Those of us who were close to Buck — and I’m talking about hundreds of thousands of people, maybe millions — hoped they would do the right thing. It would not have been right to just induct him into the Hall, I don’t think. For one thing, it would have smacked of being some sort of celestial makeup call, which is the last thing in the world anyone wanted. Buck never wanted to be a token, and he never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him. Also, it would not have meant anything — the whole reason so many of us wanted Buck O’Neil to go into the Hall of Fame was so that Buck himself could know that feeling and hear the cheers. With him gone, a Buck O’Neil induction ceremony would have been like a wake.

The Hall of Fame folks, to their credit, realized this. It took a year, but they came up with a beautiful compromise. They will put up a statue in his honor. And it doesn’t matter if its not in the official “Hall.” In fact, it’s better that it’s not. Buck was set apart. People will see it, kids will see it, and his name will live on. That’s the point.

Then they will have this Buck O’Neil Lifetime Achievement Award to give to those people who have dedicated their lives to the game and deserve to be remembered and honored. I have, in my mind, a long list of scouts and coaches and writers and baseball lifers who deserve that honor. I’ll write about them sometime. For now, it’s worth just saying that — once again — something good will happen for people because of the good name of Buck O’Neil. That, to me, is the best way to honor the man.

I’m in Sapporo now, it’s 4 a.m. (jet lag’s killing me), and I’m getting ready to go watch the Japan Series. I wish my friend Buck was with me. He would get such a kick out of this. But, sappy as it sounds, he is with me.

The Soul of Baseball, I Was Right On Time, Hall of Fame Announcement.

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