Hey BCS fans!
The season is over, but the work continues.
In preparation for the release of the Bull City Summer book and exhibit at the North Carolina Museum of Art in February, we are in production on a documentary film about the project. The documentary needs a soundtrack, and that’s where we could use your help.
We’re looking for the fastest pitcher we can find in order to create a chorus of music from the sound of baseballs hitting a mitt.
Want your name in the Bull City Summer book, to be released February 2014 by Daylight Books? Today’s your last chance to contribute before the book goes to the printers! For the full list of rewards for your donation, go here.
We want to thank you for your support throughout the season. The book and our exhibit at the North Carolina Museum of Art are both taking shape, and we couldn’t be more thrilled with the results!
With Hank Willis Thomas’s work to document the season’s final home stand now received, all Bull City Summer’s documentary work is completed and assembled. We believe we’re close to achieving something unique.
We can use your help now to make this project soar in 2014.
Donate by the end of this month and you can receive a copy of the Bull City Summer book with an acknowledgment for your donation printed in it. The book goes to the printer November 1.
Photo by Alex Harris.
This is part 2 of a series by Howard Craft about the decline of African-Americans in baseball. Part 1 is here.
I began my career as a Red Sox, finished as a Yankee, and retired at thirteen a champion. Mini Well Park, Little League champion — it was a big deal. We didn’t celebrate with champagne, but my grandfather owned a corner store so we had two fruit punch Capri-Suns or one orange Gatorade apiece waiting for us after our win behind the dugout.
(Coming soon, an update on BCS with details of what’s coming in 2014 and a chance for you to join our team and be acknowledged in our book. But for now, a brief West Coast detour).
In September I spent a week in Eugene, Oregon, my first visit there. One day, while driving down Willamette St., I passed an old, wooden, apparently abandoned baseball stadium and I did an instant double take: Whoa, what is that?