The St. Louis Cardinals and San Francisco Giants played at historic Rickwood Field in Birmingham, Alabama on Thursday night as part of Major League Baseball honoring the history of the Negro leagues in celebration of Juneteenth. The stadium was home to the Birmingham Black Barons from 1920-1960, as well as the Birmingham Barons and Birmingham A’s of the minor leagues, and each team wore uniforms honoring the heritage of the Negro leagues.
MLB also brought out many of the greatest Black players the league has seen to help pay tribute to the path paved by Negro league ball players, with recent stars like Barry Bonds, Ken Griffey Jr., and Derek Jeter (who was also covering the game for FOX) among those on hand. Reggie Jackson was also back in Birmingham, where he played for the Birmingham A’s in 1967 prior to getting called up to Oakland, and the FOX pregame show had Jackson come on to talk about his history at Rickwood Field and Alex Rodriguez asked what the emotions were like for him being back.
What transpired was one of the most raw and powerful three minutes you’ll ever see on sports television. Jackson didn’t offer platitudes about how nice it was to be back at one of the places his Hall of Fame career started. Instead, he gave viewers a lesson on the painful, violent history of racism in Birmingham and the other towns they played in in the Southern League, noting on a few occasions how he “wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Coming back here is not easy.”
Reggie Jackson shares his emotions of visiting Rickwood Field. pic.twitter.com/dSK7hmCJZd
— FOX Sports: MLB (@MLBONFOX) June 20, 2024
“Alex, when people ask me a question like that it’s like, coming back here is not easy. The racism when I played here, the difficulty of going through different places where we traveled — fortunately I had a manager and I had players on the team that helped me get through it. But I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. People said to me today, I spoke and they said, ‘Do you think you’re a better person? Do you think you won when you played here and conquered?’ I said I would never want to do it again. I walked into restaurants and they’d point at me and say the n***** can’t eat here. I would go to a hotel and they’d say the n***** can’t stay here. We went to Charlie Finley’s country club for a welcome home dinner, and they pointed me out with the n-word. ‘He can’t come in here.’ Finley marched the whole team out, and they finally let me in there. He said, ‘We’re gonna go to the diner and eat hamburgers. We’ll go where we’re wanted.’
“Fortunately, I had a manager in Johnny McNamara that, if I couldn’t eat in the place, nobody would eat, we’d get food to travel. If I couldn’t stay in a hotel, they’d drive to the next hotel and find a place where I could stay. Had it not been for Rollie Fingers, Johnny McNamara, Dave Duncan, Joe and Sharon Rudi — I slept on their couch three, four nights a week for about a month and a half. Finally they were threatened that they’d burn the apartment complex down unless I got out. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“The year I came here, Bo Conner was the sheriff the year before. They took Minor League Baseball out of here, cause in 1963 the Klan murdered four Black girls, children, 11, 12, and 14 years old, at a church here, and never got indicted. They were from the Klan, Life Magazine did a story on them like they were being honored. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. At the same time, had it not been for my white friends. Had it not been for a white manager, and Rudy, Fingers, and Duncan and Lee Meyers, I would’ve never made it. I was too physically violent. I was ready to physically fight someone, and I would’ve gotten killed here cause I’d have beat someone’s ass and you would’ve saw me in an oak tree somewhere.”
It was certainly not what FOX was likely expecting, but it was one of the most powerful segments we will likely see on sports television this year (or really ever) and one we likely wouldn’t have gotten from Jackson with a different panel on that desk. So often we are given a sterilized history of sports, where racism, if discussed, is spoken about in very broad, general strokes. What Jackson provides here is pointed and personal, a raw account of the horrific, dehumanizing things he endured in his time, while noting his appreciation for those who stood by his side as allies and helped get him through it. But this was not simply some tale of overcoming racism as a temporary obstacle. It’s a reminder that these are scars that Jackson will never fully heal from, as is the case for millions of Black Americans who endured the same thing. It’s also a message to the rest of us on the vital importance of genuine allyship, confronting racism while supporting those facing and enduring it.