Updated: April 26, 2016





Soul of the Shame

By Michael – Louis Ingram, Editor – in – Chief



PHILADELPHIA (BASN) Stop me if you’ve heard this before:


A person/persons/people are subjected to inhuman treatment…


After being mentally beaten into submission and their collective soul picked at like the harpies did on Prometheus’ azz, the magnitude of the guilt kicks in long enough – to offer up a weak – assed “apology” – with conditions, of course (they’re not feeling that guilty!)


Said apology offers no restitution for the damage done;


Said apology never properly punishes nor penalizes those responsible for the misdeeds (because, of course, it happened soooooooo long ago and we should just ‘get over it’)


And, most importantly, said apology obfuscates the true motive in presenting it!


All of the above notions were entertained in the pre-meditated murder of Jack Roosevelt Robinson.


Yeah, I said it.


It was murder most muthafuckin’ foul, because it killed two realities: that baseball is the national pastime (white supremacy is) and…


The brand of baseball played in the Negro Leagues was superior to that of its White counterpart – by far.


The decision by Brooklyn Dodgers’ owner Branch Rickey to White baseball was motivated by financial gain far more than any notion of humanity, real or imagined. Remember Rickey’s move was preceded by owner Bill Veeck’s desire to buy the Philadelphia Phillies and filling the roster with Black players before being cock-blocked by the racist fuck Kenesaw Mountain Landis into the League…


Years of disrespect in travelling on the road barnstorming, no place to eat a proper meal or sleep; being constantly called out of their names; those within the Negro Leagues then endeavored to resolve these issues by doing for themselves.


So the Birmingham Black Barons could eat and go to the fuckin’ bathroom without the added stress of being hassled for being Black While Taking A Shit…


The Baltimore Elite Giants could enjoy the local nightlife when they played The Black Yankees in New York City because there were places where they could fraternize and socialize in public – in a relaxed atmosphere.


All the cash – was safe! At home – as that dollar turned over in the Black community at a rate not seen since the days of Black Wall Street.


However, Rickey and all the other gangsters weren’t interested in doing straight business – why do business with folks you deem inferior?


So a feasibility study had to be done: which of these Black men could be best manipulated for the purpose of assisting in looting the Negro Leagues? The excellent brand of baseball notwithstanding, they also noticed the full stands – and all that green coming out of a lot of Black wallets!


Just as Black folks created policy (the ‘Numbers’ – which would lay the groundwork for the eventual state-sanctioned lotteries) the foundation to maintain their newly rewoven financial infrastructure would be taken apart; with the proper stealth weapon…


Robinson was college educated, ex-military, and in spite of his passionate nature, was more conservative leaning in his personal philosophy and lifestyle – he was definitely not Jack Johnson!


They needed assurance the first time an opposing player, fan or teammate would call him Nigger – he would not break his foot off in that cracker ass!


So in the guise of ‘integration’ Robinson set about his task, playing baseball with the same hard – nosed savvy and flava the Negro Leagues had instilled in his pedigree; and yes, he changed baseball.


With every stolen base, every crucial hit, Robinson destroyed notions while destroying the League that got him to where he was; and that knowledge had to do more damage than any redneck could.


After the so-called ‘trial period’ where he could not retaliate was lifted, other owners were sold – some quicker than others. Veeck was first to sign Larry Doby for Cleveland, while Rickey added players like Don Newcombe and Roy Campanella…


Little to no compensation was ever given for any Negro Leaguers who moved to the ‘majors’ – the talent was rudely snatched up – again because of the devaluation of the Negro Leagues and the lack of faith (or sheer ignorance) in knowing their style of play was better…


The acceptance factor also led to the acknowledgement of added stress, which is why I framed the title in this manner. Mr. Robinson went through all this shit likely knowing it would eventually but also speed up the process in killing him because of the stability of the Black economy’s eroding in the process.


Black – owned hotels weren’t as important anymore. Bars and restaurants? Who gives a fuck when you can go ‘Downtown’ now? Down there the ice is colder, the water’s wetter and the food is better – why? Because those white folks told you so!


The people who worked concession stands and all those avenues of ancillary revenue professional teams use now to strong-arm cities into compliance – gone faster than Jackie could run from first to third base.


All those factors helped to destroy Jackie Robinson and Black baseball from within; and no doubt significantly shortened his life span.


Which brings us to the release of “42” – where The City of Brotherly Love is once again exposed for the racist shithole it can be – in celluloid via Phillies then-manager Ben Chapman.


Once certain folks decided Philly wasn’t seen in a positive light, the city decides to offer ‘an official apology’ to Robinson – big fuckin’ deal.


The ‘apology’ costs them nothing.


It doesn’t state that Chapman was a piece o’ shit human cum stain whose only redeeming value to society was the color of his skin and the favor it brought him living in a racist society.


Nor does it moreover engage the reality MLB is pimpin’ off Jackie Robinson because of the same reason they did in 1947 not for breaking barriers – but for breaking cash money off of his Black ass!


The annual salute to Mr. Robinson is nothing more than a blatant cash – grab: buy your jersey, wear your jersey and be Jackie Robinson for a day – without being called a Nigger (or with – depending on who’s around you!)


No one would ever accuse Rickey as being an accessory to murder, but that’s the real reason why the bitch who stands outside the courthouse – is always wearing a fuckin’ blindfold!


Whenever I see the guilt take over for even the slightest of moments, I always think back to the words uttered by my aboriginal brother Noel from Down Under; after his Australian prime minister ‘apologized’ for the systemic genocide of his people and culture.


I think even Mr. Robinson, even if he had issue with the sting of Noel’s words, would understand:




Play fuckin’ ball.


Always outnumbered…never outgunned.


Copyright (c) 2016 Michael – Louis Ingram all rights reserved.



























































































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