Mark Bennett: Hall of Fame weekend stirs hopes for baseball to right some wrongs

Jul. 22—I had no idea about the obstacles overcome by Tony Oliva when he signed my baseball in the summer of 1970.

As a 10-year-old kid, I knew Oliva could hit. I saw his name day after day among the hitters in the American League's Top Ten batting average list in the morning newspaper. I knew he was a perennial All-Star as the Twins right fielder.

And when Oliva walked up to the swarm of kids leaning over the railing beside the dugout in Anaheim Stadium on July 10, 1970, grabbed the baseball I held out and signed it, he became my favorite American League ballplayer — a significant connection for a lifelong Cincinnati Reds fan.

The rest of that night, I sat next to my dad, grandfather and brother rooting for Oliva against the home California Angels, clutching that baseball, bearing my first big-league autograph. Alas, California pitcher Andy Messersmith shut down Oliva and the Twins in a 2-1 Angels victory — a game I saw during a family vacation to visit my grandparents in Santa Ana.

Still, I kept following "Tony O" in the newspaper box scores from that day on.

Those box scores explained his exploits on the field, but not the difficulties Oliva and other Black and Latin players faced. I didn't know Oliva had to sit in the bleachers during his first spring training in 1961, unable to join his minor-league teammates on the field after arriving in the United States late from his native Cuba. He had to sit out because the Twins and other big-league clubs limited the number of Black players on spring rosters, Oliva said in an interview with On Cuba News last December. Two Twins employees with Cuban ties persuaded the club to give the kid a chance.

Discrimination didn't disappear when Jackie Robinson broke baseball's color barrier in 1947.

I didn't know Oliva spoke no English when he came to America. I didn't know his Cuban parents and siblings never saw him play during his 15 years in the majors. I didn't know how lonely such a situation could be.

I understand that now, more than a half-century after I first saw Oliva play. I was thrilled last winter when the National Baseball Hall of Fame announced Oliva had been selected for induction, along with six other greats. As a lifetime .304 hitter, eight-time All-Star and 1964 AL Rookie of the Year, Oliva — now 84 — deserves the honor he's awaited for so long.

So do the other inductees on a Hall of Fame induction weekend that conjures hopes of wrongs being righted. Chosen along with Oliva by the Hall's Golden Days Era Committee were Gil Hodges, Jim Kaat and Minnie Minoso. Bud Fowler and Buck O'Neil, two early 19th- and 20th-century greats denied the chance to play in the majors because of the color of their skin, were selected by the Hall's Early Era Committee. David Ortiz, a Twins and Red Sox slugger from 1997 to 2016, rounds out the 2022 Hall of Fame class. Only Oliva, the 83-year-old Kaat and Ortiz, 46, are living.

The ceremony begins at 1:30 p.m. Sunday at the Hall in Cooperstown, N.Y.

Fowler actually grew up in Cooperstown and a street there bears his name, but professional baseball hardly welcomed him during his career. He possessed plenty of talent as a pitcher and second baseman, who played barehanded for nearly two decades in the 19th century. He bounced from club to club in 22 states and Canada, never staying for more than a season. That nomadic career included a stint in 1888 with the pro minor-league club in Terre Haute. Fowler opened a barbershop downtown, as he did in every city, to earn extra money; drew "lavish praise" from local fans, as the Terre Haute Express wrote; then left town barely a month after arriving to join a different team in New Mexico.

Why such a transient lifestyle? Fowler was a Black man playing on otherwise all-white teams in that era. He was shunned, spiked and ridiculed by opposing players, managers and fans, and even his own teammates. So, Fowler, who died in 1913 at age 54, kept moving.

Fowler deserves his Hall induction this weekend, albeit posthumously. Fittingly, Fowler's image on his Hall plaque will show him without a cap of any particular club, said Craig Muder, the Hall's director of communication. O'Neil will be cap-less, too.

One name not on the Hall induction list this year that should be is Terre Haute native Tommy John. The lefty pitcher who won 288 games in 26 major league seasons from 1963 to 1989 has been bypassed in the general and special veterans committee voting for Hall induction since first appearing on a ballot in 1995.

Kaat's selection appears promising for John's future consideration, though. "Our records are about identical," John said by phone Thursday from his home in Sarasota, Fla.

Kaat played 25 seasons, John 26. Kaat won 283 games, John 288. Kaat's lifetime earned-run average was 3.45, John's was 3.34. Kaat was a three-time All-Star, John played four All-Star games. Both have a unique Hall variable — Kaat won 16 Gold Glove Awards for his fielding, John overcame an unprecedented elbow surgery that revolutionized sports medicine and now bears his name. He won 164 games after courageously agreeing to that first-of-its-kind surgery.

After Kaat's Hall selection last December, he graciously reached out to John. "The next day, Jim called me up and said, 'I just want to apologize. I should not be going into the Hall of Fame before you,'" John said Thursday. On that call, John praised Kaat as deserving of the honor and thanked him for the gesture.

John's next chance for Hall consideration comes in the fall of 2023, when its Modern Baseball Era Committee meets to select the induction Class of 2024. If chosen, John would be 81 years old at his induction.

"If I get in, I get in. If I don't, I don't. But I hope I get in before I die, because I'd hate to have a corpse up there," John quipped.

Seriously, Tommy John deserves to be a Hall of Famer, alongside Tony Oliva, Buck O'Neil, Bud Fowler, Jim Kaat and all those other greats.

Mark Bennett can be reached at 812-231-4377 or mark.bennett@tribstar.com.