I Was Right On Time

Not that I speak from want; for I have learned to be content in whatever circum- stances I am.( Phil 4:11)

I am reading a book entitled I Was Right On Time by Buck O’Neil, a baseball player in America during the days of segregation. Before Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier, baseball was divided into two distinct groups, the Major League as we know it today and the Negro Leagues, where Buck and his friends spent most of their careers.

It is an interesting read, full of colorful characters, poignant moments, and lessons of life for all. Some of the greatest ball players ever to play the game hit, fielded, and ran the bases on segregated diamonds. One of the best hitting catchers to ever grace home plate was Josh Gibson, of the mighty Homestead Grays. My dad tells me that his dad, my grandfather, watched Gibson and the Grays ( a team in the Pittsburgh area) a number of times. The guy reminds me so much of Bo Jackson, one of my Auburn alums. Buck O’Neil states that he heard a distinctive crash from a baseball bat hitting a ball only three times in his life, from the bats of Babe Ruth, Josh Gibson, and Bo Jackson. He described that sound like a small stick of dynamite going off.

I loved the comradery that the players had in those days; I am sure it was so necessary to lean on one another to make it in a segregated world. Buck speaks of his old friends like schoolyard chums, and the nicknames! A true term of endearment when someone gives you a nickname! Turkey, Mule, Fox, Ox, Piggy, Bunny, Possum, Groundhog, Rats, Frog, Burro, Early Bird and Goose. And most had some logic behind the name, Turkey, for instance, was a player named Norman Stearns who flapped his arms when he ran. What’s worse is that one nickname wasn’t enough, the 'nickname' for a turkey is a gobbler, so they called him Gobbler too!

I must go on, the names are just too good: Sea Boy, Gunboat, Skin Down, Popsicle, Suitcase and of course Satchel. Biz, Bullet Joe, Smokey Joe, Jewbaby, Copperknee, Ankleball, and my favorite, Cool Papa Bell.

Buck, as well, is a nickname for the writer himself, John Jordan O’Neil Jr., a man who lived in relative obscurity until Ken Burns developed the nine part epic masterpiece, Baseball, for PBS. Buck emerged as a ‘graceful, charming, fatherly voice of America’s national pastime, a living link from the early days of segregated baseball to the game we know today." (From the book sleeve). Buck dedicated his book to his wife of fifty years, "a cheerful and easy-to-love lady".

I think the reason I have so much respect for this great man is in the title of his book. From page 2:
The best thing about the film, (Baseball) though, was that it gave me a chance to tell folks about th Negro leagues, about what a glorious enterprise black baseball was, and about what a wonderful thing baseball is . Back in 1981, at a reunion of us Negro league players in Ashland KY, a young fellow from Sports Illustrated asked me if I had any regrets, coming along as I did before Jackie Robinson integrated the major leagues. And this is what I told him and what I’m telling you now:

There is nothing greater for a human being than to get his body to react to all the things one does on a ballfield. It’s as good as sex; it’s as good as music. It fills you up. Waste no tears for me. I didn’t come along too early–I was right on time.

I found this to be such a tremendous statement—I was right on time. It reminded me so much of the converted Saul, or Paul as he became known. A man who learned to be content in whatever circumstances. And I, too, have concluded that the past is gone, the future is unknown, and the here and now just cannot be wasted thinking about what could have been or what might be!

The writer of the Hebrews tells us: But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is still called "Today", lest any one of you be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. (Heb: 3:13)

If you have heard Buck O’Neil before, you know he is a man who hasn’t been hardened. It is a biblical principle he lives by, one that I think is a good one.

My life–I was right on time.... How about yours?

Steveo plants two tombstones at the plate, in one game!

Blessings,
Mark