WE ARE THE SHIP: THE STORY OF NEGRO LEAGUE BASEBALL by Kadir Nelson, Hyperion/Jump at the Sun, January 2008, 88p., ISBN: 0-7868-0832-2

"We didn't really know how rough it was in the Negro Leagues until some of our guys went up to the majors. Play was a lot 'nicer' there. In our league, everything was legal. We would do whatever it took to win. Pitchers threw anything and everything. Spitters, shine-balls, emery balls, cut balls -- you name it. They cut that ball to pieces and had curveballs breaking about six feet! Throw a new white ball to the pitcher, and it would come back brown from all the tobacco juice and what-have-you. You never knew what the ball was going to do once it left the pitcher's hand. And throwing at the batter was common. The pitcher would knock you down just to mess with your head. Look up at the umpire, and he'd just say. 'Get up and play ball, son.' That's why the batting helmet was invented. When Willie Wells was just a rookie, he found the ball was making its way toward his head a little more often than he liked, so he decided to wear an old miner's helmet when he stepped up to the plate. Boy, did they laugh at him! But today, you won't find a ballgame played without batting helmets."

A lot of hurt resulted from the evils of segregation in America. But when it came to so-called "black" music and "white" music, wasn't it ignorant whites who got the short end of the stick if they failed to experience the music being created by Black Americans whether it be the musicians of the Harlem Renaissance or Marian Anderson or 'Train and Miles or the stars of Motown or George Clinton or Tupac?

"Oscar Charleston was a mean son-of-a-gun. He would just about go looking for trouble. One time he snatched the hood off a Ku Klux Klansman."

Sure, there were a host of indignities experienced by the black Americans who took the field in Negro League Baseball and then had to find places to eat, sleep, shower, and pee. Kadir Nelson does an excellent job of illuminating those difficulties. But after reading WE ARE THE SHIP, there is no doubt that -- just as with the music -- those who wasted opportunities to experience Negro League Baseball were the ones who was poorer for it.

WE ARE THE SHIP is a raucous, joyous, visual and textual celebration of Negro League Baseball that will leave its readers wishing that there was a stash of vintage film somewhere that we might all have a chance to view the long-ago hijinks and incredible skills of black ballplayers who were every bit as good and better than the white guys in the so-called major leagues. America did belatedly got a look at a number of veteran Negro League stars who were eventually permitted to join the majors. Unfortunately, in contrast to the few like Jackie Robinson and Roy Campanella who got to spend many of their prime years in the majors, the majority of the stars whom we meet in WE ARE THE SHIP were either too old to follow Jackie there or merely got to play out their final years, long beyond their best seasons and the heroics (and antics) that Kadir Nelson speaks of here.

"Umpiring wasn't always that great, either. Some of those guys wouldn't have known a strike from their left foot. At one time, the league had official umpires, but they couldn't travel with the teams. It was too expensive. A few of the umpires were former players. Pop Lloyd and Wilber 'Bullet' Rogan used to ump later on in their careers. Those guys were tough. They had to be, with guys like Oscar Charleston and Jud Wilson in the league. At one game in Kansas City, there were three umpires. Rogan was behind home plate, and the other two were at first and third. A play took place at third base, and Rogan ran down the line. He called the man out, and the base umpire called him safe. They started to argue and got into a fight. Bullet Rogan pulled out a knife, and the other guy panicked and took off running toward the center-field fence and climbed over it. The next day it was in the papers. Rogan had a bad temper. We wouldn't argue too much with him about balls and strikes. Whatever he called you, you would just let it go. He was old, but he'd fight you anyway. Some guys even played with a gun in their uniforms. It was a rough league."

Sure, I, myself, had read some book about the Negro Leagues back when I was a kid. I knew the names of Sachel Page and Josh Gibson. But Kadir Nelson truly brings the wild scene to life. WE ARE THE SHIP is a celebration that you must not miss.