Tossing off light covers on an early summer “Morning,” poet Billy Collins buzzes around the house on espresso and anticipation.  “Maybe a splash of water on the face / and a palmful of vitamins.”  He sips, bare feet on a cool floor, looking out at old trees, laden clouds, a steamy lawn.  Dictionary, music, typewriter.  A new day.       

Is this small-town news?  Yes, Newbern, Alabama.  Is it more than small-town news?  Yes, it’s as big as the United States.    

This report from Democracy Docket should be a 4-minute documentary leading every newscast: “Black Mayor in Alabama Finally Allowed to Lead His Town Following Settlement Agreement.”  In July 2020, volunteer firefighter and community activist Patrick Braxton was elected mayor in the 80%-Black town of Newbern.  No elections had been held for the past 60 years in Newbern—the current white mayor appointed the next white mayor and the rest of the white council.  After his victory, Braxton endured harassment and intimidation—a secret white election successfully barred him from office in October.  “It hurt my heart because I couldn’t do what I wanted to do.  We had some plans to do some work in Newbern.”  Braxton and his council secured legal assistance from the NAACP in 2022, finally winning a June 2024 court judgment that the white minority violated both the US Constitution and the Voting Rights Act.  “I’m fighting for all the younger generations coming up behind me.  They can do the same thing and be successful in this town.  You don’t have to move away from your hometown just to accomplish something.  We finally got the door open for me, so y’all can come in.”    

Is this a baseball story?  Yes, two Hall of Fame ballplayers.  Is it more than a baseball story?  Yes, it is the story of the United States.   

I settled in to watch the June 20th Major League baseball game between the St. Louis Cardinals and the San Francisco Giants at Rickwood Field in Birmingham, the oldest professional ballpark in the US.  Joe DiMaggio and Stan Musial played here as did Ernie Banks and Hank Aaron.  Growing up near Rickwood, 16-year-old Willie Mays played centerfield for the Birmingham Black Barons, the 1948 Negro League champions.  The Black Barons could rent the park on Sundays when the white team played an away game.  Tonight’s ballgame salutes the surviving Negro League players—they will take the field one more time.    

Willie Mays planned on attending, later saying that he would watch the televised game at home.  The Say Hey Kid died two days before the game.  Reggie Jackson, like Mays a baseball Hall of Famer who also played at Rickwood, did attend.  Mays and Jackson knew each other.  They knew how to use their uncommon skill on the field.  They knew prejudice.  They knew how to play while enduring it.   

Patrolling his grassy expanse in centerfield, #24 Willie Mays finished his long career, interrupted by two years of Army service, with 660 home runs, 3,283 hits, and 300 stolen bases.  Elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1979, Mays thrilled spectators, both at the ballpark and at the beginning of televised baseball, as a five-tool threat: he could hit, hit for power, run, field, and throw.  Unmatched in flair and durability, he was elected to 24 All-Star teams.  24!  A mentor to young players during his career and for the rest of his life, Mays was honored in 2015 with the Presidential Medal of Freedom.  He endeared fans and other players with his pure thrill in fulfilling such rare talent.  Greeting most everyone with a “say hey” while trying to learn their names, the Say Hey Kid’s celebration will be tomorrow afternoon at his San Fransisco Giant’s ballpark.     

Elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1993, Reggie Jackson marveled when interviewed at the Rickwood Park game, proclaiming that Willie was “Baryshnikov on the baseball field.”  Not only was he the most-skilled player but also the one with the best instincts. “I wanted to be like Willie,” Reggie enthuses, “I wanted to wear my uniform like him, play with his love of the game.”  

Rightfielder Jackson, nicknamed Mr. October for raising his already high bar in postseason play during his 1967-87 career, homered in his most memorable at bat in the broadcast booth at Rickwood.  “Coming back here is not easy.  I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.  I’d never want to do it again.”  Steady and articulate expressing the raw hurt he endured at Rickwood in 1967 while playing for minor league Birmingham, Jackson spoke to stunned announcers and the country.  Watch him detail the virulent racism he encountered as a ballplayer slapped repeatedly with the “n-word.”  You can’t eat here.  You can’t stay in this hotel.  Birmingham teammates housing and defending Jackson dealt with threats of burning down their apartments.  Reggie explains that he and Willie competed while intentionally suppressing their complaints, cautiously refraining from speaking out—silence their ticket allowing them to play ball.  Mr. October puts feel-good storylines on hold.  Until.  Unless.  

more than baseball stars 

Willie Mays, Reggie Jackson

human hall of fame     

Stuart Dybek can’t wait for his childhood after-dinner game.  He admires the ballpark below—a strewn gathering of clothespins fallen from four stories of clotheslines.  “I once hit “Clothespins,” the poet brags, batting for his hometown Chicago Cubs.  Look, there’s Willie Mays “pounding his mitt.”  Fans cheer as young Dybek smacks a clothespin off the fence for a triple.  A shattered clothespin, “Foul Ball!”  Is this a boy’s dream?  Yes, but “the bat was real.”     

Feeling his grandparent’s spirit and wearing a Black Barons jersey, Jon Batiste provides electrifying pregame music and dance at Rickwood.  “We honor the memory of Willie Mays and celebrate the original Negro League players, the pioneers.”  Batiste grooving from guitar to piano to saxophone, singing and dancing, shaking hands and hugging the players.  “Everything gonna be all right.  Everyone make some noise.”  Musicians on piano and bass complement dancing pairs in matching shoes.  Batiste riffs on his “I Need You,” adlibbing that Willie Mays knows his “Master Power.” 

“Oh, put me in, Coach / I’m ready to play today,” John Fogerty begs.  He claims he can play “Centerfield,” but not like the exuberant centerfielder wearing #24.  A video clip of sweet, sunny memories accompanies the song.  “Hey Willie” plays street ball with children, makes his famous catch and throw in the 1954 World Series, claps and jumps as he rounds the bases and heads for home.

Please.  “Someone to understand each little dream with me / Someone to take my hand, to be a team with me.”  What an infectious arrangement of “Summer Samba” by Téke and New Bossa.  Hear the joy that the musicians’ faces wear—samba in summer and all the way through life with me.  Oh, the solos—piano, trumpet, bass.  Revel in Téke’s last soar.  “So n…i…c…e….”    

breathing and loving 

grabbing that master power

practicing dance moves

Do we face problems in the United States?  Yes, incalculable problems.  Are there solutions?  Yes, once shock and despair give way to wisdom and courage.