The Courage of his Convictions

In December, the “Golden Days Committee” will vote to add former players who performed between 1950 to 1969 to the Hall of Fame. The late Curt Flood, a perennial all-star on three pennant winning St. Louis Cardinal teams, should top the list. At a time when true heroes remain hard to find, Flood’s selfless fight against injustice that ultimately changed the game of baseball deserves belated recognition

Ten years ago, HBO’s documentary “The Curious Case of Curt Flood” began the crusade when it told the story of the man who placed principle over principal, who took on the establishment to fight for what was right when no else dared. HBO hit the mark when it showed the high cost Flood paid when he sacrificed a well-paid career to take his case all the way to the Supreme Court only to lose when the court erred in logic and justice.

But HBO whiffed in its title, for Flood’s case was courageous rather than curious. The story’s aftermath remains sadly ironic, with an ending that demands re-writing by his posthumous induction into the Hall of Fame.

Yet, many view Curt Flood as a pariah, a symbol of greed, the creator of the free agency and the destructor of baseball’s golden age. How-ever, he did not initiate his lawsuit so that he could leave St. Louis to offer himself as a free agent to the highest bidder. Rather, he objected to a cartel — baseball’s owners — unbridled right to sell or trade players like commodities to the highest bidder.

When the Cardinals traded him to the Philadelphia Phillies, Flood received no warning, nor was he offered any input on where or for whom he could earn his livelihood; this despite the fact that he was employed by the Cardinals for 12 years and his family and business resided in St. Louis. Go where we say, when we say or forfeit your right to earn a living playing baseball.

Hence, Flood’s motivation was not to enrich himself, but rather to have a say on where he might live and earn a living. The owners — who made their fortune in America’s cherished free enterprise system — denied the same to its ball-playing employees by the so-called reserve clause that bound a player to one team owner until such time that the player was sold to another owner. Hence, Flood’s ill-received remark that a well paid slave was nonetheless still a slave. His suit was motivated by fairness, not greed.

Flood risked all and lost all when the Supreme Court ruled against him in a dubious 5-to-3 decision, the court’s conservative wing ruling in the owners’ favor. Justice Harry Blackmun tipped his hand in the opening paragraphs of the decision, which set forth a long list of baseball immortals whose ghosts somehow justified a romantic view that Major League Baseball was not a business and therefore exempt from the country’s underlying principle of free enterprise presumably safeguarded by duly enacted anti-trust laws.

The aftermath of Flood’s story is well-chronicled and the irony unabated. Flood lost his battle, but the players who followed in his wake won the war. His clarion call against a basic injustice fortified the players in their labor stands against the owners. Free agency was ultimately achieved for ball players who now earn salaries unimaginable back in 1969. Conversely, Flood was broken financially.

The only thing lonelier than losing is losing alone. No active players offered to help him carry the banner. Flood lived in self-imposed exile in a far-off Mediterranean island, his life a Greek tragedy as financial straits and drink crushed him. But he rallied after years of suffering. He overcame alcoholism, reunited with his family and found peace with himself. His dignity remained intact, but the battle took its toll. He died a few days after his 59th birthday.

Irony like history oft repeats itself. Despite his imprint on the game, Flood’s memory recedes while others less worthy receive recognition. In 2008, sportswriters selected baseball’s late former commissioner Bowie Kuhn into the Hall of Fame.

The consensus seemed to be that Kuhn loved the fans and protected the game’s integrity and that he presided over baseball’s rise in popularity during his long reign. But more than any other person or event, Bowie Kuhn’s name is forever intertwined with Curt Flood’s when he served as baseball’s titular head in that epic lawsuit.

The selection of Kuhn for induction into the Hall of Fame while ignoring Flood reveals a sentiment that the commissioner was a white knight while Flood represented the ills of free agency. Kuhn’s ineptitude in subsequent labor battles with Marvin Miller hastened the reality of free agency.

So the Hall enshrines Kuhn’s name while Curt’s fades from memory. But who is the more worthy candidate? Unlike the commissioner, Flood actually played the game. He hit over .300 six times in a pitching-dominant era, and one could project 2,500 hits had he finished his career. Curt played with panache, winning seven gold gloves in center field, running the bases with a flourish and performing as a consummate team player with a major role on three Cardinal pennant winning teams. Such a career stands near par with Red Bird Hall of Famers Enos Slaughter and Red Schoendienst.

The Hall stands for something more than a palace for statistical achievements. It also memorializes and celebrates broadcasters, writers, umpires and executives for their contributions and historical impact on the game.

Commissioner Kuhn falls in that category, as does the merciless executive George Weiss who built championship teams for the Yankees in the 1950s while putting the screws to the players who won them. So why not Flood, a man who helped win championships on the field, and who historically helped loosened those same screws?

Curtis Charles Flood had the courage of his convictions and stood by them when the bullets flew. For that, he stands like Gibraltar, a mensch among men.  Indeed, his life transcends a “Hall” that glorifies fame, but not necessarily “honor”.    The time has come enshrine his noble name to the scrolls of Baseball’s Hall of Fame. Major League players past and present stand unanimous in their approval.