NINETEEN
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURIAs soon as he plodded to the mound under the steamy, overhead sun to pitch the second game for the Kansas City Monarchs, the fans came to their feet and cheered.
He was the drawing card of n***o ball, a cult hero, a pro for twenty years of the segregated game. He had played year-round since 1929. Spring, summer, fall, and winter, answering the alluring call of the almighty dollar throughout the United States, Canada, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Mexico, and South America. He was the richest colored player, commanding a salary better than most white major leaguers. An odd physical specimen, he was built like a broom, six-foot-three and one hundred and fifty pounds. He wore size fourteen shoes. He had an assortment of pitches that mesmerized fans and players. He was bra
