baseball – Nomadic Noesis

Not Cooperstown, but Just as Important

Kansas City Monarchs baseball uniform in display case

Friday, I fulfilled a bucket list item when my husband and I visited the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City. As anyone who knows about baseball and American history is aware, the major leagues were segregated until Jackie Robinson started at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. Visiting this museum, we learned a lot about how Black players persevered anyway, improving our society along the way.

The website explains: The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum is the world’s only museum dedicated to preserving and celebrating the rich history of African-American baseball and its impact on the social advancement of America. The privately funded, 501 c3, not-for-profit organization was established in 1990 and is in the heart of Kansas City, Missouri’s Historic 18th & Vine Jazz District. The NLBM operates two blocks from the Paseo YMCA where Andrew “Rube” Foster established the Negro National League in 1920.

Some of the greatest athletes the game has ever seen are featured–Satchel Paige, Josh Gibson, Jackie Robinson, and more. We encountered Buck O’Neil almost right away, scouting a game:

Statue of Buck O'Neil in a Monarchs uniform — Buck O’Neil scouting a game

A short film condensed the history of MLB segregation and integration, including the shameful treatment of Black players who originally joined some of the very first teams, before they were officially banned. One influential player in particular is now known not for his skill or achievements, but just for entrenching racism in the sport. I am deliberately not giving him fame among my handful of readers. But imagine — the players he kept out went on to shine and give us so much. While his legacy is for all the bad he accomplished.

Poster announcing "Championship Negro Baseball with Satchel Paige."

Statues of baseball players on replica ball field.

Standing among the greats

A couple of interesting tidbits I learned:
*The KC Monarchs were the first team to install lights and play games at night.
*Several of the teams traveled and played ball in Japan in the 1920s and 30s.
*And of particular interest for Women’s History Month, there were some women who played professionally.

Bust of baseball player Mamie Johnson in front of cutout image of her. — Mamie “Peanut” Johnson

Bust of baseball player Toni Stone in front of cutout image of her — Mamie “Peanut” Johnson

I found a couple of their autographs among the vast collection of signed baseballs.

6 autographed baseballs. One says Toni Stone, another Mamie Peanut Johnson.

I can’t help thinking how discrimination and segregation harm everyone on every side. When we exclude others for no good reason, we are not only hurting them, we’re depriving ourselves of their talents and contributions. It makes no sense, yet it’s done too often.

I highly recommend experiencing this bit of baseball history if you get the chance. The woman who sold us our tickets said the museum will be expanding and moving into a new building soon, so that’s me planning to return in the future.

On Today’s Walk: Kindred Baseball Spirits

I often walk over a few blocks to see what these skeletons are up to, as their activities and costumes change frequently:

Fake skeletons in Royals baseball garb — A skeleton crew of kindred spirits

They’re as ready for baseball as I am, and we root for the same team.

A Royals baseball emblem -- "KC" -- on blue hoodie — Spirit Day!

The weather was windy and slightly cool, exactly right for wearing a Kansas City Royals hoodie.

Playing Ball

In honor of the baseball post-season and the fact that my hometown team, the Kansas City Royals, gets the award for most improved in the last few years, here’s a post about baseball. It’s a short memoir piece I wrote a couple of years ago. It originally appeared in Ducts.org.

Kauffman Stadium

Playing Ball

I’m five years old and there’s a baseball game in progress right outside my door. We live at the junction of Thompson and Askew. Our corner serves as home plate. The pitcher stands in the middle of the intersection. Very few cars drive by during a summer day in the neighborhood that Kansas City forgot. If a family owns a car, it means the father has a job, and the car is at work with him.

I watch the action from my front yard. Trudy, a teenager from down the street, invites me into the game. She asks if I’d like to take her turn at bat. She’ll help me. I hustle to the corner and take the unwieldy wooden club. I’m big for my age, but not enough to handle an adult-sized baseball bat. Trudy puts her arms around me, providing extra hands to hold the bat steady. Her long, wavy hair falls over my left shoulder. Continue reading “Playing Ball”