27 - April 1969

“Dad…”

“Byron, I don’t want to hear another word about it. It was just the luck of the draw.”

“I can’t believe I’m on the Phillies again. They’re are absolutely awful.”

“Not another word.”

Mr. Johnson fixed his gaze down upon Byron and Byron immediately zipped his lip. He knew now, that his father’s word, as always, was law. He also thought it was unfair that his father was the league president and he should be allowed to choose his own team name. To Byron, it didn’t matter if it was the Reds or the Tigers or even the Yankees. Anything would be better than being the Phillies – even the Seattle Pilots.

When that year’s uniforms were passed out, Byron was glad they were red with white numerals – at least until his mother did the wash. The red dye faded and stained the bright white numbers, turning the big white 5 on the back to bright pink. Mr. Johnson tried helping things by getting authentic Philadelphia Phillies ball caps for the boys, but the dark maroon just didn’t match the light red shirts at all.

Still, Byron didn’t say a thing.

In its second year, the League’s biggest problem wasn’t from within, but without. The league grew to 18 teams, which meant the meager two-diamond playground at Bond Hill Elementary wasn’t enough. Mr. Johnson had to return to the Council to make a brand new request.

“Good evening, Mr. Latimer.”

“Call me Walt,” said the Bond Hill-Roselawn Council President, “what brings you here?”

“I need more space.”

“More space?”

“The league is twice as big. There just aren’t enough baseball diamonds to go around.”

“Have you thought about splitting it into two leagues of eight teams each?”

“Guy and I talked about that, but that still leaves us with a few problems. Bond Hill Elementary is the only school with two baseball diamonds. Where would the second league play?”

“They could play in Roselawn.”

Mr. Johnson stopped and thought about it for a moment.

“I could even help,” said Mr. Lattimer, “I live in Roselawn, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Mr. Johnson motioned to Mr. St. Pierre.

“Guy, what do you think of splitting the league into two parts?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Maybe we could arrange for a set-aside to construct new diamonds until we can get public funds,” offered Mr. Lattimer.

“Between the three of us, we know enough people to help build new diamonds.”

“You’ll need to get permission from council first.”

“Then we’ll start there,” said Mr. Johnson.

The two men took turns presenting their case for the new diamonds in Roselawn. When the vote was taken for the set-aside, it was a unanimous ‘yes’ vote.

In the week following the April Council meeting, all three men and several members of the now-defunct St. Pierre and Maddux canvassed both neighborhoods, looking for volunteers. It wasn’t long until they ran into yet another obstacle.

“You can’t build there,” said a man.

“Why not?”

“That’s a football field. You can’t play football on a baseball diamond.

“The Bengals will be doing it.”

The man scoffed, “that won’t last long. Everyone will end up sidelined by injuries.”

The man was talking about the impending changes coming to the Bengals (and for that matter, the Reds, too). The Bengals had spent their first few years playing at Nippert Stadium – which belonged to the University of Cincinnati and the Reds had been playing at Crosley Field.

As with all municipal governments, the City of Cincinnati was faced with a tight budget and when the Bengals needed a home, the City of Cincinnati responded with a multi-use stadium.

That was the trend across the country. Stadiums like Three Rivers, the Astrodome, Busch, and Atlanta-Fulton County were constructed to host both football and baseball games.

These stadiums, however, were nearly identical. They were donut shaped and although they were practical for baseball, football fans had to sit in mobile bleachers to be close to the action. Otherwise, they just sat in the stands, far, far away. Meanwhile, the NFL used artificial turf to remedy the problem of dirt on the football fields.

Unfortunately, the village of Roselawn wasn’t willing to compromise. Most of the football boosters were up in arms over the proposed construction.

“Robert? It’s Walt Latimer. We’ve received a call from Cincinnati. Someone’s filed an injunction in Muni Court.

“Do we know who filed it?”

“Roselawn Youth Football…and Tom Meyer’s new firm is handling the case.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. What should we do now?”

“We’ll have to discuss it at the next Council Meeting.”

“That’s not for another three weeks. Tom would love nothing more than breaking up the league.”

“I know, but our hands are tied.”

“Maybe not.”

Mr. Johnson made a set of rounds to Roselawn businesses, in search of unused property. It was no time at all until he found an undeveloped lot.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he assured Mr. Weltner, the owner of a tool and die shop that had seen its best days during World War II. The lot behind the warehouse had been empty for two decades. It was overdue for some use.

There was a sprit de corps among the coaches and parents as they broke ground in the large, empty plot. There was also a major clean-up project, including the removal of metal wire, scraps, and iron filings.

The season didn’t begin until late May and all of the new diamonds were rough in shape. None had backstops and team benches were constructed from railroad ties and scrap wood. There were six diamonds in all. It must’ve been something to see.

With all the extra teams, there was also a new load of equipment to purchase. On a Saturday afternoon, Robert and Guy made the road trip to the sporting goods store and came home with a full load of bats and balls and catcher’s equipment, all stuffed into duffel bags.

“I can’t keep all this stuff at my house,” said Mr. Johnson.

“I can’t either. Maybe we should build an equipment shed.”

They checked with Mr. Weltner. He was happy to oblige the men and even included a supply of fresh lumber. When Walt Latimer visited the warehouse site, he wasn’t happy about it at all.

“Guys, you know you still need a building permit, even if it’s private property.”

“So, we’ll get one tomorrow.”

“As long as you do that, I guess it’ll be fine.”

However, neither of the men took the time to make the journey to downtown Cincy to get any of the necessary permits.

As Mr. Johnson’s Phillies faced off against Mr. St. Pierre’s Cardinals on a regular Thursday night game, they spent most of the game standing side-by-side behind home plate while their boys played ball. However, they were in for a surprise as a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Robert…Guy, how are you two doing?”

It was Tom Meyer.

“Hello, Tom.”

“I heard your little project was taking off. I just had to stop by and see for myself.”

“”Yeah, we’re managing just fine without you.”

“I see you’re making all kinds of changes. You’ve even got new diamonds and storage sheds.”

Mr. Johnson nodded.

“I wonder how city council feels about this.”

“Walt knows about this.”

“I don’t mean your little neighborhood group. I mean the City of Cincinnati.”

“Oh, come on, Tom, you’re being intractable and infantile.”

“There you go again.”

“What?”

“Whenever you’re on the defensive, you start using big words.”

Mr. Johnson glanced at Mr. St. Pierre. Guy just rolled his eyes. Both men folded their arms and returned their attention to the game and Mr. Meyer stormed off in a fit.

“What is wrong with him?” said Mr. Johnson.

“What isn’t?”

That night, both men received a call from Walt Lattimer. The next day, Mr. Johnson did as he had promised nearly a month earlier, making the rounds through downtown Cincinnati and collecting all the necessary paperwork. With all that complete, it was time to get back to baseball.

Since they had six diamonds all in one place, the Bond Hill League unofficially became the Roselawn League. It contracted from 17 to 16 teams just before the season got underway. The teams played every Saturday from May to August. The AL Division played in the mornings and the NL (which included the Phillies) played in the afternoons. Mr. Johnson, Mr. St. Pierre, and their two sons were there all day long. Sometimes their wives were there, too. Of course, that meant Erica (who was just 6) was there, too.

“Stay near, dear.”

“Okay, mother.”

Erica found other kids and they found a million ways to keep themselves occupied. They played tag and made yellow dandelion tattoos. Everything was fine until Erica ventured down the first base line. The batter hit a foul ball that skittered along the ground and popped up as soon as it hit a patch of grass. The ball pounded Erica in the chest and knocked the little girl to the ground.

All four games were suspended as the ambulance rumbled between diamonds and through the grounds.

“Guy,” said Robert, “We’ve got to go. Can you take care of Byron for us?”

“Don’t worry, I have it all under control.”

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson hopped into the ambulance and away they went. Mrs. Johnson plugged her fingers into her ears as the blurting sirens filled the air. It was overwhelming to her. She thought to herself that she should’ve been used to it by now.

Meanwhile, the paramedic calmly attended to Erica.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling a little wheezy.”

“She’s got Sickle Cell,” said Mrs. Johnson.

The paramedic rubbed the stethoscope on his pant leg and placed it on her chest. Her breathing was raspy, but not unusual.

“Everything sounds fine, but we’ll have the doctor take a look at you just to make sure.”

The ambulance rolled into the E.R. receiving bay and the paramedics wheeled the gurney past receiving and directly into a room where she was treated immediately.

“Good afternoon, Erica. How is the pain on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Just a two or a three.”

“Strong constitution. Let me give you a complete check-up and we’ll go from there.”

After the check-up, the attending physician ordered a full set of chest X-rays. Meanwhile, Mrs. Johnson filled out the paperwork and waited with Mr. Johnson in the lobby.

 “I should’ve been more careful.”

“She came out just fine. It could’ve been much worse.”

“I know it could’ve been worse and it was all my fault.”

“It was nobody’s fault. Accidents happen.”

“I’m never letting her get that far away again.”

“You can’t keep her locked up inside the house all day. She’s going to get bumps and bruises. It’s human nature.”

Mrs. Johnson let go of a long, growling sigh. It penetrated the air. After that, Mr. Johnson remained quiet. Byron arrived with Andy and Mr. St. Pierre some time later. It wasn’t long after that when Erica was released.

“She’s just fine,” said the physician, “just get her a few days of normal bed rest and I’ll prescribe a run of penicillin and folic acid, just to be safe.”

“Thanks,” said Mr. Johnson.

“No problem at all.”

Within a couple of days, Erica was playing in the backyard with Byron. As the train whistles blew in the distance, it nudged Mrs. Johnson’s conscience.

“Erica! Byron! Get inside, the train’s coming!”

A collective groan came from her children, but that was always the only argument they’d put up. They came inside and waited it out. When they attempted to return, Mrs. Johnson stopped them cold.

“I don’t want Erica going outside with all that train soot lingering around.”

“Who’s going to feed the Jugs machine?”

“You’ll have to find something else. Besides, you shouldn’t be out there either.”

The children’s faces drew down in disappointment as they looked for an indoor activity to pass the time and Mrs. Johnson returned to her baking. However, it was only a short time until she changed her mind.

“Alright,” she said, “you can go outside and play, but no roughhousing and you take care of your sister, okay?”

Byron nodded and the kids immediately scrambled out to the far end of the backyard.

In Major League Baseball, there were a few unexpected surprises. Some were good and some were bad.

The majors added four new teams, all of them in somewhat unexpected places, including a Canadian team named the Montreal Expos.

The Kansas City Royals would replace the Kansas City Athletics, who moved to Oakland just two years before.

There were also two located on the west coast: the Seattle Pilots and San Diego Padres. Both cities were unlikely venues for baseball teams back then, although both had stable (if not always perfect) weather.

Seattle was an intriguing addition, mostly because Senator Symington from Missouri was up in arms because of the Athletics’ move west. For the first time since the 1880s, Kansas City was baseball-less. This was a city that had a history of fielding multiple teams at once, including the Kansas City Blues, Packers, Athletics, and the Kansas City Monarchs.

The Senator from Missouri pushed the Major League to return Kansas City to its former glory. He even threatened to introduce a bill in Congress overturning the League’s anti-trust exemption if no action was taken.

The Majors responded by adding Seattle. Although Seattle desperately wanted professional baseball, they didn’t have a proper stadium for the inclement coastal weather. Still, baseball was delivered to Seattle, and it only managed to last a single season. The Seattle Pilots were moved to Milwaukee.

Meanwhile, the anti-trust thing was bubbling to the surface in St. Louis. Centerfielder Curt Flood had been in negations with the owners, attempting to get an increase in salary, but the Cardinals organization wouldn’t budge. Instead, they traded him to the Philadelphia Phillies in early October.

While the Cardinals were making another World Series run, the Phillies were absolute cellar-dwellers, with one of the worst records in Major League Baseball, edging out newcomers Seattle, Montreal, and San Diego.

Flood refused to report to the Phillies, citing the lackluster surroundings in Philadelphia and racist Phillies’ fans. Instead, he penned a letter to baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn and mailed it on Christmas Eve of that year. In the letter, he stated he wasn’t property for sale or trade and although negotiations with the Cardinals fell through, he should have the right to seek new contracts on his own, irrespective of the reserve clause, which said that teams had the sole rights to players.

Kuhn denied his request. In January, Flood filed a suit against Major League Basebaall. It snaked its way through the court system, arriving in Supreme Court in March. After two months of deliberation, the judges decided in favor of Major League Baseball. Later that year, the owners had agreed on the 10/5 rule, which allowed any player who had been in the Major Leagues for ten years (and an additional, but restrictive, “five years with their current team” requirement) would be able to override the reserve clause.

After it was said and done, Flood sat out for all of 1970. When he returned to the Cardinals in September of that year, they traded him to the Washington Senators, where he played a modest 13 games during the 1971 season.

In an interview with sportscaster Howard Cosell, Flood expressed the reasons behind his actions:

COSELL: “For a man who makes 90,000 a year, which isn’t exactly slave labor, what is your response to that?”

FLOOD: “A well-paid slave, nonetheless, is still a slave.”

Feeling the presence of pro-ownership sentiment, Flood detailed his argument in his book “The Way It Is”.

Although Flood lost his Supreme Court case, Baseball Players’ representative Marvin Miller continued to work on the reserve clause and baseball’s anti-trust violations. In 1974, Miller pressed Kuhn and the owners. This time, the reserve clause was overturned and finally, free agency became the new way it was.

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