by David Fleitz

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Saturnino Orestes (Minnie) Minoso, as he appears on a baseball card in the 1961 Post Cereals set.

Here's a link to two of Keith Olbermann's blog articles on the recent Negro Leagues election.

Well, in case you missed it, the Baseball Hall of Fame decided a few years ago to do a complete and thorough review of the Negro Leagues from 1860 to 1960 and identify any forgotten and overlooked players and executives who deserved to be inducted into the Hall.  A panel of 12 Negro Leagues experts spent more than two years analyzing clippings and statistics.  First, they came up with a list of 94 Negro Leagues players and executives, and soon whittled that list down to 39.  Last week, they went through the list of 39 and voted yes or no on each name.  Any person with 9 out of 12 votes was automatically elected to the Hall of Fame.

I figured that they would come up with four or five electees.  I’m not exactly a Negro Leagues expert (other than the research I did on Willie Wells for my Ghosts in the Gallery book) but I figured that Mule Suttles, Biz Mackey (Wells’ mentor) and Cristobal Torriente would probably get in.  To my surprise, the committee came up with not four or five names, but 17!

A few hours later, Keith Olbermann, on his MSNBC “Countdown” show, threw a hissy fit on the air.  He’s upset that Buck O’Neil and Minnie Minoso, the only two living members of the list of 39 people under consideration, were not elected.

Olbermann said:

And at our number two story in the COUNTDOWN today, baseball might as well have told Buck O‘Neil to get lost. ...

Snubbing Minoso and O‘Neil apparently for all time is extraordinary enough, but only baseball could make it worse. In honoring the Negro leagues, it managed to exclude O‘Neil and Minoso, but it did elect two white people.  James Leslie Wilkinson was the founder of those Kansas City Monarchs, Jackie Robinson‘s team before he broke the color barrier with the Brooklyn Dodgers.  Wilkinson was a white businessman.

But just to twist the knife a little further into Buck O‘Neil, the special committee elected Alex Pompez, owner of the New York Cubans team in the ‘30s and ‘40s, also an organized crime figure, part of the mob of the infamous ‘30s gangster Dutch Schultz, indicted in this country and in Mexico for racketeering.  He‘s in the hall of fame for all time.  Buck O‘Neil is not.  It‘s not merely indefensible.  For all the many stupid things the baseball hall of fame has ever done, this is the worst.

On his radio show that afternoon, Olbermann went even farther.  He called for a boycott of the Hall of Fame and proclaimed that the 12 committee members told Buck O’Neil and Minnie Minoso to “drop dead.”  (That’s a particularly unfortunate choice of words, given that O’Neil is 94 and Minoso 83.)  Olbermann further suggested that Commissioner Bud Selig should threaten to revoke major league baseball's association with the Hall, and that Selig should simply install Minoso and O'Neil in the Hall himself, saying that Selig had the power to do so.  (He doesn’t, of course, but Keith was on a roll.)

Since at least eight of the 12 committee people are also members of SABR, Olbermann stated that the vote had "embarrassed" and "shamed" the organization.  If their votes were not made public, thundered Olbermann, he would quit SABR.

Gee, Keith, I’d like to see Gil Hodges in the Hall of Fame, but I’m not going to smash all my toys if he doesn’t get in.  For heaven’s sake, take a pill.

I like Keith’s show, mostly because he’s less of a blowhard than Bill O’Reilly and not nearly as hysterical as Nancy Grace.  However, he went way overboard on this issue. O’Neil and Minoso are fine gentlemen and made large contributions to the game, but there may be good reasons not to put them in.

Let’s deal with Minnie Minoso first.  He was a Negro Leaguer for a few years before he debuted in the majors with Cleveland in 1949.  Traded to the White Sox in 1951, he became one of Chicago’s most popular ballplayers.  He batted .298 for his career, with 186 homers.  His major league stats are a little short of Hall caliber, mainly because he was 28 years old before he became a regular.  He wasn’t a Negro Leaguer long enough to build a Hall-worthy legacy there, either.  Perhaps if you put both parts together, you’d have a Hall of Famer, but his omission is not, upon further review, such a gross injustice.  His candidacy is comparable to those of Gil Hodges or Ron Santo – close, but not quite there.

Buck O’Neil was a longtime Negro League player and manager who was the main source of Negro League information on Ken Burns’ nine-part film Baseball.  O’Neil did more than anyone else to keep the memory of the Negro Leagues alive.  He served on the Hall of Fame’s Veterans Committee during the 1990s and convinced his fellow committee members to induct Joe Williams, Leon Day, Willie Wells, and several others.  He was also the first African-American major league coach (with the Cubs in 1962) and helped develop Lou Brock, Ernie Banks, and others into stars.

However, it appears that his playing and managing accomplishments fall a bit short.  He was a first baseman who hit for average, but not much power.  Bill James labeled him as a Mark Grace or Wally Joyner-style hitter.  He won two Negro League batting titles (as Mickey Vernon and Willie McGee won two each in the majors) but no one is clamoring to put Vernon or McGee in the Hall.  O’Neil managed several pennant winners, but they came after the Negro Leagues went into sharp decline after Jackie Robinson broke the major league color barrier.

O’Neil’s greatest contribution to baseball lies in his tirelessness and determination in keeping the Negro Leagues alive in public memory.  That’s a fine legacy, but there does not seem to be a place in the Hall of Fame for that.  No one has ever been elected to the Hall based on lifetime achievement in promoting the game.  There are players, managers, executives, umpires, and one sportswriter (Henry Chadwick) with plaques on the wall in Cooperstown, but no one there for a lifetime of good works.

O’Neil’s Hall of Fame case is very similar to that of Lefty O’Doul, who had a good (not great) playing career, won two batting titles, was a popular raconteur and storyteller, was a minor-league manager of some renown, and did more than anybody to popularize baseball in Japan.  If Buck O’Neil deserves to be in the Hall, Lefty O’Doul certainly does as well.

So, Keith Olbermann, if you’re reading this, settle down, will you?  Buck O’Neil is a true gentleman and a credit to the sport.  I’d give him the Presidential Medal of Freedom any day.  However, his credentials for the Baseball Hall of Fame are less than overwhelming.