by Michael Ceraolo
When I was pitching in the minors
I threw the pitch that killed Charles Pinkney
I was very much affected by it:
it showed me a baseball career, and even life itself,
isn’t guaranteed to anyone,
and also led me to fight for what I believed in
I pitched little more than an inning
for the Red Sox in 1912 and was ineffective,
so they sent me out to Jersey City
A couple months later Boston wanted to sell me
to a different minor-league team in Denver,
but said I would have to negotiate a new salary
Denver wouldn’t pay me what I was due under my contract;
I said I would accept the lower salary
only if Boston would make up the difference
They refused to do so, and also refused
to let me buy my release,
after first agreeing to let me do so
I refused to report to Denver and,
with the assistance of the Fraternity,
sued for the balance of the salary due me
It took many years, but I finally won,
by which time, through interest and penalties,
the amount I had originally sought
had grown to a considerably larger sum
And that wasn’t my only fight
I got back to the bigs in 1914
and pitched decently but was traded during the season
The second team refused to pay me
the $240 bonus promised in the contract
I again went to the National Commission
and again they ordered the promised payment
Those two challenges were two strikes against me;
baseball didn’t give me a third strike:
I was never again offered a major-league contract
I don’t begrudge the current players:
having to deal with those who run major-league teams,
they earn whatever they get
