Bryan Burwell

By now, I’ve lived long enough to know that the world is divided into two groups of folks: those who were lucky enough to know John Jordan “Buck” O’Neil and those who wish they did.

I’m proud to say I was one of the lucky ones. The last time I saw him, Buck O'Neil was strolling through the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum wearing this wonderful, gleaming smile that was as white as his silky hair. And of course he was talking baseball, telling all sorts of wonderful stories with a voice that would sway with the lyrical rhythms of a Southern preacher.

The last time I saw ol' Buck, we strolled through the halls of the museum that was his labor of love, and his large, expressive hands would clap like thunder and his wonderful voice would cackle, dance and hum. If this was indeed the voice of a preacher, then inside the walls of the Kansas City baseball landmark — or inside the confines of any ballpark — ol' Buck was in his church, and baseball was his religion.

A little more than a year ago, "Buck" O'Neil died at age 94 in a Kansas City hospital, and baseball lost its most precious living treasure. Though he never would admit it, I think he died of a broken heart. In February 2006, he learned that a group of soul-less historians and clueless pseudo-intellectual baseball researchers committed a high crime to the sport by refusing to include O’Neil among the historic class of 17 Negro League and pre-Negro League inductees into last summer’s Baseball Hall of Fame class.

“I’ll always remember that day in February ’06,” said Bob Kendrick, the assistant director of the Negro Leagues museum and one of O’Neil’s closest friends. “I remember how painful it was for me personally, and how hard it was for me to gather my composure and tell him the news. But you know what I remember even more? It was how strong Buck was. I was trying not to cry, and there were so many more people all over the country who loved baseball and loved Buck even more and we all couldn’t believe what they did to him. I know he was hurting inside worse than me. But he comes walking into the room full of folks and he wrapped his arms around a nation of baseball fans and said ‘It’s OK.’ ”

That was the day all of us wondered if baseball had lost its heart and soul. But today even the most casual baseball dilettantes who doesn’t know a hit-and-run from a fungo bat is a misty-eyed romantic who truly believes the sport has rediscovered its heart and soul.

Cooperstown finally found a way to open its gates to Buck O’Neil.

Led by baseball commissioner Bud Selig and a passionate group of true keepers of baseball’s flame, they’ve found a way to make amends for the miscarriage of justice done to Buck.

“When I first heard the news (in February 2006) that Buck wasn’t elected into the Hall, I thought it was a horrible mistake, or a cruel joke,” said Bob Costas, a noted baseball ambassador himself and one of those true keepers who helped right the terrible wrong. “I was so stunned because all I kept thinking was that if these people (who were chosen to the selection committee) were charged to only select one person, it had to be Buck,” said Costas. “The fact that they elected 17 and he wasn’t one of them was absolutely mind boggling.”

By now, most of us know Buck’s story, He was the grandson of a former slave and grew up in segregated rural Florida. He became a star in the Negro Leagues as a player, coach and manager, moved on to the newly integrated major leagues as a pioneering coach and scout, and finally through the past half-century of his life, he became baseball's ultimate homespun poet laureate.

Yet he died a year ago on Oct. 7, knowing that he had missed out on the Hall by two or three votes, which probably hurt him deeply, but because he was the most gracious man you’d ever meet, he never complained.

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But most of the baseball world did. Selig was visibly deflated. Hall of Famer Joe Morgan was angry. Costas and so many others like filmmaker Ken Burns (the man who made Buck famous in his 1992 baseball documentary) and Hall of Fame chairman Jane Forbes Clark, joined in and came up with something so wonderfully fitting — a way for Buck to not only join his peers, but to stand out among them.

The news came Wednesday evening and was lost in the commotion of Game 1 of the World Series. The Hall of Fame will honor the late baseball legend with the creation of the Buck O’Neil Lifetime Achievement Award.

So this summer, there will be a statue of Buck smack dab in the middle of the Hall, larger than life, and a plaque, too, and an award that perfectly captures what his life was all about. So the award will be given every three years to a “superior citizen of baseball,” which is precisely what Buck O’Neil was.

“Technically, he’s not a Hall of Famer,” said Costas. “But this elevates him to where he ought to be.”

When I talked to Kendrick on Thursday, he was planning a birthday party for Buck. “You know how much Buck liked a good party,” said Kendrick. “So we’re still celebrating his birthday even though he’s no longer with us.”