HONOR BUCK, BUT DON'T PUT HIM INTO THE HALL NOW
By John Landsberg
November 2006
Should John “Buck” O’Neil be put into baseball’s Hall of Fame posthumously?
Shortly after his death last month the question started to be heard in sports
circles.
My quick answer: “No.”
Earlier this year a special committee of baseball historians inducted 17 people
from the Negro Leagues and pre-Negro Leagues. They originally had selected 94
candidates, then whittled it down to 39, and then ended with 17.
When you toss in reliever Bruce Sutter, the 18 folks put into the Hall
represented the largest group ever inducted into the HOF. Seventeen of them were
dead. One was a reputed racketeer. One was a woman whom a sportswriter said had
“dubious accomplishments.”
Buck O’Neill was somehow not on the list. Adding insult to injury, the HOF asked
Buck to speak at the induction ceremony. Can you imagine what a slap in the face
that might have been?
As expected, folks, particularly media folks, in Buck’s hometown of Kansas City
went berserk. “How could they not induct Buck?” “Buck was THE Negro Leagues!”
“For all the many stupid things the Baseball Hall of Fame has ever done... This
is the worst,” cried Keith Olbermann, who added a national reflection on the
topic.
Now that Buck has gone to the big, big league, many people are saying he should
now be inducted into the Hall of Fame. To me, it’s too little and way too late.
Buck O’Neil’s greatness—and real legacy--- truly shines in the way he handled
the Hall of Fame rejection. He handled it the way he handled everything in his
life: with dignity and class.
I fully admit that if I were in his shoes I would have lashed out at the
committee. I might have even dropped the “race” card on them by questioning how
two white folks (owners) were selected over me. Oh, and that invitation to speak
at the induction ceremony? Shove that where the sun don’t shine.
But, as folks in Kansas City very well know, Buck didn’t do that at all. He
stood tall:
“God’s been good to me. They didn’t think Buck was good enough to be in the Hall
of Fame. That’s the way they thought about it and that’s the way it is, so we’re
going to live with that. Now, if I’m a Hall of Famer for you, that’s all right
with me. Just keep loving old Buck. Don’t weep for Buck. No, man, be happy, be
thankful.”
My wonderful father-in-law, Tony Dans, recently met Oscar Rio, former manager of
the Cuban Giants, who had seen Buck O’Neil play during his hey-day. Rio said
Buck certainly had the tools to be the first African-American player in major
league baseball. He could have, but by the time Buck returned from serving his
country he was considered too old. Was Buck bitter that he could have been an
icon the rest of his life? No.
People around the world are mourning the loss of Buck O’Neil. People who know
nothing about baseball feel bad to lose such a positive, upbeat spirit. People
like Buck O’Neil happen once in a lifetime—if we are lucky.
In Kansas City we are scrambling trying to find suitable ways to honor him. And
we should. Name buildings, roads, schools, awards, etc. after him. The more the
merrier. Keep his memory alive.
But folks who are now saying that Buck should be put into the Hall of Fame under
some special exemption or another should drop it. Putting Buck into the Hall
through the back door under some newly created reason just wouldn’t be right.
Buck O’Neil should have entered the Hall of Fame through the front door. Or not
at all.
