[SelzShoes]

The bus pulled up to the former military training complex, a canvas and wood city in the middle of nowhere, Arizona. After a brief tryout camp, the hundreds of Negroes who had shown up for a chance to be scouted by Major League teams had been whittled to these 80. Hours ago they had watched friends and teammates turned away after only minutes to show their abilities. Even in this moment of triumph, there was no joy to be had.

Blues manager Clyde Sukeforth, who had scouted many of these same men during the tours of late 1945, addressed the bus. Seven Pacific League and seven Continental League teams-the Yankees abstaining; Larry MacPhail saying "To give tryouts to players whom you do not intend to employ is sheer hypocrisy"-- would be looking for players to sign. There were no guarantees of a contract. They would spend the next month, working out with coaches from the various clubs and play ball. Each player would receive $500 for the month; food and boarding would be at the military training facility. No radio, no movies, no music; just baseball all day long. "We don't just want to know what kind of players you are, we need to know what kind of men. We want to know who wants it most."

"This isn't good Buck," veteran Willie Wells whispered to Buck O'Neill. "Tell a man the only chance he has is at the expense of his friends."

O'Neill nodded, "Still, they wouldn't go to all this trouble not to sign anybody. Each one of us that gets a contract out of this makes it easier for the next one. Besides, I think they would rather have us fight each other than some of the southern boys on those teams." The men grabbed their bags and slowly exited the bus. As they exited, Sukeforth pulled Buck to the front seat.

"Buck, we want you to act as team captain for one of the squads," Clyde started. "You know these players, you know how to use them in a game." Sukeforth leaned closed and scanned the empty bus to be sure no one else was in earshot. "Baltimore is looking for someone who can advise Ruth, help him along but," Sukeforth paused.

"But what Clyde?" O'Neill bit his lip, knowing what was coming next.

"But they don't want someone who will undermine his authority," Sukeforth felt sick to his stomach saying those words. "They don't think the team would respect a Negro enough to undermine Ruth's position." For the first time that day Sukeforth could look Buck O'Neill in the eyes. "I'm sorry Buck. Sorry it has to be that way." After months of watching the Monarchs grind out game after game with limited resources and substandard conditions, Sukeforth knew he was sitting with one of the five best managers he had ever seen.

Buck O'Neill extended his hand. "Clyde, it's not how it should be; but it is the best I got right now. And I'm not going to turn it down because it's not perfect. I'll be waiting too long for that day."