KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Precious and fickle and fleeting as our memories can be, sharing them through storytelling is a way to fortify, preserve and even enshrine them.
That has been lovingly demonstrated for more than 30 years now at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, which still radiates the spirit of the veritable poet laureate of the Negro Leagues (and, in fact, baseball itself) Buck O'Neil ... even 15 years since his death.
Between that ongoing mission and the NLBM's perpetual energy seeking to further engage the public, it perhaps was a natural for the NLBM to launch a campaign asking fans to share their favorite baseball memory on social media using #MyBaseballMemory — an enterprise it announced on Wednesday with a panel discussion featuring Kansas City Mayor Quinton Lucas, Jackson County Executive Frank White, former Major League Baseball star Joe Carter (who was signed by O'Neil with the Cubs 40 years ago) and former Chiefs star Deron Cherry.
Prompted by NLBM president and Buck protege Bob Kendrick, a compelling colossus of the romance and folklore and history of the game in his own right, each shared his favorite memories of the game and of Buck ... after Kendrick primed the pump by invoking what he knows to be one of Buck's favorite memories:
Opening day with the Kansas City Monarchs on Easter Sunday 1943 in Memphis, Tenn., where O'Neil hit for the cycle for the first and only time and introduced himself to a woman in a restaurant who would become his wife of 51 years, Ora Lee Owens.
Thus cued, Lucas recalled as a child how present and accessible Buck was and the inspiration he provided in fulfilling his seemingly far-fetched dream of the NLBM, something Lucas said promoted the sense that "we can be somebody; we can be something."
For his part, Carter thought of how Buck "never had a bad day in his life" and how his stories were so mesmerizing that "you would be upset when they stopped."
But no one could provide a more insightful and moving memory of Buck than Kendrick, who had a galaxy from which to select.
And his choice was perhaps particularly apt for a day on which we could commemorate O'Neil more widely, consider again his sheer majesty in the shattering hour of his snub by the National Baseball Hall of Fame months before his death in 2006 ... and, gulp, even revive hope that this could be the year that abominable outcome is overcome.
Because there's a real chance.
In a statement to FanGraphs in August, Jon Shestakofsky, the Hall's vice president of communications and education, clarified that the "The Hall of Fame's Early Baseball Committee, which is scheduled to meet for the first time this December, will consider 10 candidates comprised of players, umpires, managers and executives/pioneers who made their greatest impacts in baseball prior to 1950. Negro Leagues candidates will be eligible for consideration as part of this ballot."
We'll come back to whether we dare actually get our hopes up that the right thing at last will happen ... even if it would be a matter of better late than ever than "right on time," as Buck liked to say he was.
But first let's turn to the prologue, and enduring example, in Kendrick's fondest memory of Buck.
"It's bittersweet, but I think my favorite memory was the day that he didn't get in the Hall of Fame. Even though it was devastating," he said, standing on the museum's Field of Legends after the event. "But to be there that day to watch how this man handled such great disappointment with class, grace and dignity, I think it may have been his finest hour. And it came in defeat.
"And so while it was devastating for me personally and professionally, I grew so much as a result. I learned so much as a result ...
"That's the moment in time that I think will stay etched in my mind for as long as, as my mother would say, that I'm in my natural mind. Because it was just an amazing display of strength of character. And that will stay with me forever."
Not that this particular memory doesn't still pierce Kendrick ... and, surely, tens of thousands of others who either had occasion to know Buck in person or by extension either at the NLBM or through his ascension to superstardom as a fundamental part of Ken Burns' 1994 documentary miniseries, "Baseball."
He burst through the screen then, as Kendrick put it, a charming and gentle man with a twinkle in his eye and smile that lit up the screen, a man who'd been telling the same stories for 40 years to considerably less notice before people were properly introduced.
But the anguish of feeling Buck's pain is wrapped in the reminder of his response to it, part of what Kendrick is thinking of when he says he always tries to be more "Buck-like" even if he still considers himself a work in progress.
That's why he still talks to Buck every day, even if Buck doesn't always talk directly back.
Because he knows he can draw from Buck in so many ways.
And perhaps most of all by remembering that it's not what happens to you but how you handle it that is what's most meaningful ... and memorable, for that matter.
That mentality has sustained Kendrick and the museum through the pandemic, and he can think of no finer example of resilience than what happened after Buck was passed over:
He went to Cooperstown, nonetheless, to give testament on behalf of the 17 Negro Leagues enshrinees each being honored posthumously.
"And there he was, being their voice," Kendrick said. "And I still say to this day that it was the most selfless act in American sports history. That's what I cling to; that's what I draw inspiration from."
It's also why he's both allowing himself to hope but girding himself for disappointment at the prospect of another opportunity in December.
"There's something poetic about this if it does (happen); of course, it all remains to be seen," he said. "But I've got my fingers, arms, toes and everything else crossed that it might happen."
He added, "How special would it be for Kansas City and the baseball world if it does indeed happen?"
Special enough that it suddenly would be a new favorite baseball memory for many and add an entirely new dimension to this endeavor.
