Local Opinion: How Mexico helped end segregation in US baseball

Most newspaper stories are ephemeral by nature, holding our attention briefly before being relegated to obscure archives somewhere in the digital cloud. Once in a while, however, readers may find a story that leaves a more lasting impression. I came across one of those last month in the Arizona Daily Star headlined “Story of the Underground Railroad to Mexico gains attention.”

In the article, professor Ron Wilkins notes that there has been a long but little-known history of mutually beneficial collaboration between the African American and the Mexican/Chicano communities, adding, “If we knew this history, we would come together and strengthen that solidarity.”

His comment reminded me of another part of that little-known history, a part that involves the game of baseball. In Eric Nusbaum’s marvelous book, “Stealing Home,” we learn that baseball was most likely introduced to Mexicans by U.S. soldiers during the war between their respective nations. Nusbaum goes on to detail the consequences of that introduction, pointing out that by the 1930s, baseball was as beloved in Mexico as it was in the United States. That’s when Mexican billionaire Jorge Pasquel “saw the sport’s transformative powers” and “dreamed of a true World Series: one between the Mexican champions and the American champions.”

Pasquel began forming his own baseball club — los Azules (the Blues) — and then started visiting U.S. ballparks and, according to Nusbaum, studied the game with the same kind of keenness he used to develop his business empire. He recognized that players in the Negro Leagues had as much talent as those in the majors, and he used wildly generous contracts to sign such stars as Josh Gibson and Cool Papa Bell. He even made an unsuccessful bid to sign Jackie Robinson, who had just joined the Brooklyn Dodgers minor league organization.

Of course, for African American ballplayers there was an added benefit: in Mexico they could eat in any restaurant they wished and could stay in any hotel they chose. In other words, they were treated like human beings. On the other hand, they also had to put up with Pasquel’s peculiar personality.

Because Congress had granted the league an exemption to state and federal antitrust laws, even white ballplayers had no bargaining rights and were barred from acting as free agents. After the end of WWII, Pasquel offered them an escape into the Mexican Leagues and soon signed on more than a dozen major leaguers, including players from the Cardinals, Dodgers and Giants.

In its heyday, the Mexican League drew players from across Latin America and the U.S., and achieved a level of competitiveness that appeared to challenge the majors for a brief time. Although the league had disbanded by the mid-1950s, Nusbaum maintains that its existence had a lasting effect on American baseball and indirectly on American society. He concludes his chapter on the Mexican Leagues with the observation that Pasquel’s “ambitious recruitment of players black and white had helped make the case to the racist and fearful lords of U.S. baseball that integrated ballclubs could play together.” Today, roughly one-third of major league players are people of color, predominantly Latinos.

Given the dangerously divisive situation our country faces today, Wilkins’ comment about how we can “come together” by better understanding history struck a nerve with me. The thrill of discovering fascinating details about such lesser known episodes in our history can leave us with a sense of wonder and cause us to reflect on our shared humanity. Reason enough, I’d say, to keep digging into our past.