I think historic League Park has no future as long as Councilwoman Stephanie Howse-Jones has a say.
What Howse-Jones knows about ballparks and baseball can’t fill a thimble. She made that fact plain to me last month at a community meeting in her ward. I asked her point blank what Parks and Recreation, the city department that runs League Park, has done to develop a plan to make the historic ballpark a destination like Rickwood Field or Hamtramck Field.
Flashing an empty smile, she proceeded to sidestep my question with the skill of a matador.
She said any plans for League Park would come from Alexandria Nichols, the director of Parks and Recreation. If I believe Howse-Jones—and I don’t—Nichols is tasked to develop a plan to create revenue for the ballpark without the councilwoman’s say.
I won’t call what Howse-Jones said a lie; instead, I’ll use the word fiction.
A year ago, Nichols told me a plan was near; she would have a someone (or some organization) in place to manage League Park shortly. Now, Howse-Jones is telling me Nichols has set a new timetable. In response to an email I sent her, the councilwoman wrote:
I am not taking any steps at this time to secure sustained funding for League Park, as Director Nichols has indicated it would take her and her team at least three years to assess and implement a plan
Three years?
Wow! So, meantime, League Park will sit seldom used, collect dust and eat revenue the city can’t afford to spend.
From talking to people elsewhere, the ballpark should be a destination, much in the way pre-1930 ballparks in other cities are. In discussions with those people, I’d argue Major League Baseball and the Cleveland Guardians should be interested in pitching in to make League Park vibrant. They have a stake in its history, certainly because of their so-called commitment to telling the story of Black baseball.
I reckon I should appreciate the honesty of Howse-Jones, but I know nothing happens in a ward unless the councilperson who represents it gives the go-ahead. League Park ought to be a higher priority for her and for Parks and Recreation.
I see so many ways to speed up the process, and here’s one place to start: Put somebody who knows a balk from a TedTalk in charge today and give the person the authority to guide the ballpark forward. The hire could be temporary—until Nichols and her team outline a longer-term strategy for it.
But three years?
According to the councilwoman’s email reply: This means that by next year, they will have a fully thought out and actionable plan ready for implementation in 2028.
League Park reopened August 23, 2014, so Parks and Recreation has had more than a decade to get Major League Baseball, the MLB Players Association, the Indians/Guardians, the National Parks Foundation, Cuyahoga County Council, Progressive Insurance, the Gund Foundation and local nonprofits to breathe life into the East Side ballpark.
Over those years, the anchor tenant, the Negro League Baseball Legends of Fame, Inc. DBA Baseball Heritage Museum, could have done a better job of establishing relationships with other museums that keep alive the history of Black baseball, a relationship that would have increased the profile of the ballpark.
Now, I’m not trying to throw rocks at the museum. Instead, I’m saying a decade has been long enough to make League Park work for the city and the baseball community. I guess I was wrong, because the ballpark remains a $6.3 million white elephant in the center of Black neighborhood, which seems not to bother Councilwoman Howse-Jones.
