100 Things Cubs Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die by Jimmy Greenfield

and Williams, who came into camp having settled for a one-year $150,000 contract well below market value, made his feelings known.
    “I’ve been a nice guy too long, and it has cost me money and endorsements,” he told the Chicago Tribune ’s Ed Prell. “I’m convinced it helps an athlete to pop off and that the fans don’t care if you’re right or wrong, as long as it’s controversial. You’ll get more attention than if you make eight hits in a row.”
    Players try out all sorts of new things in the spring before going back to their old ways, and it was the same with Williams. He remained the calm, thoughtful player he had always been, and history remembers him for his beautiful left-handed swing that brought him to the major leagues and carried him on to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1987.
    Plain-spoken and with a permanent twinkle in his eye, the kid from Whistler, Alabama, didn’t hit as many home runs as Ernie Banks, throw no-hitters like Ken Holtzman, or click his heels like Ron Santo. He just played and played, every single day. And along the way, he hit seemingly almost every day.
    From his first full season in 1961 up until 1973, Williams was practically slump-proof despite averaging 159 games and setting a National League record by playing in 1,117 consecutive games. He drove in at least 84 runs for 13 straight seasons and during that span averaged 29 homers and 98 RBIs.

    Hall of Famer Billy Williams addresses the crowd outside Wrigley Field after a statue of him was dedicated before a game between the Houston Astros and the Cubs on Tuesday, September 7, 2010, in Chicago. (AP Photo/Charles Rex Arbogast)

    When he retired in 1975 following two final seasons with Oakland, Williams had 426 homers and 1,475 RBIs to go with a .290 batting average. He also had his work cut out for him to get into the Hall of Fame. If it was possible to hit a quiet 426 homers, Williams had done it. Never playing in the postseason for the Cubs didn’t help, and neither did going 0-for-7 in his lone postseason appearance with the A’s in 1975. In his first year of eligibility, Williams only drew 23 percent of the vote and had to wait six years before his election.
    But on the day he was inducted Williams used his bully pulpit to speak out for the rights of African American players, coaches, and managers. He never forgot the virulent racism he encountered in the minor leagues that forced him to stay in different hotels, eat in restaurant kitchens, and put up with repeated chants of “nigger.”
    If it weren’t for legendary Cubs scout and coach Buck O’Neil, who went to Alabama in 1959 to convince the proud, angry 21-year-old Williams to return to his minor league team, Cooperstown would have had one less bust. And so on July 26, 1987, after finally getting elected in his sixth year of eligibility, Williams went to Cooperstown to speak up for himself and others. His induction came just a few months after Los Angeles Dodgers GM Al Campanis was forced to resign after saying on national TV that African Americans might not be suited for managerial and executive positions.
    “The next courageous step rests with the owners of 26 major league ballclubs. They can make the difference by not looking at the color of a man’s skin but by examining his ability, talent, knowledge, and leadership. If this is the land of opportunity, then let it be true to become the land of opportunity for all.
    “Questions have been raised in recent months by the media about the participation of blacks and other minorities in decision-making positions in baseball. The issue wouldn’t have come up if every job in baseball was open to every league, creed, race, and nationality. But this is not the case.
    “We minorities, for the past four decades, have demonstrated our talents as players. And now we deserve the chance and consideration to demonstrate similar talents as third base coaches, as managers, as general managers, as executives in the front