Frank White: ‘I’m done with Royals’
by Bob Nightengale on Jul. 08, 2012, under USA Today Sports
Frank White’s statue stands gloriously in the center-field concourse at Kauffman Stadium. His retired number hangs on the wall of the Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame Museum in left field, joined by baseball Hall of Famer George Brett.
But White, who won eight Gold Gloves as a second baseman, made five All-Star teams and helped the Royals win their only World Series title in 1985, refuses to set foot in the place.
Baseball’s All-Star Game is in Kansas City for the first time since 1973, and while Brett is the local master of ceremonies this All-Star week, White refuses to be involved.
He’ll be around town, just not inside the stadium. He’s signing autographs for a few hours at baseball’s Fan Fest. He participated in a children’s literacy event Saturday at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum and was to be part of the tribute Sunday night for beloved former Royals owner Ewing Kauffman.
Yet the only time he plans to come near Kauffman Stadium — baseball’s epicenter with Sunday’s Futures Game, today’s Home Run Derby and Tuesday’s All-Star Game — is on his drive home to Lee’s Summit, Mo.
“I’ll never set foot in that place again,” White told USA TODAY Sports. “I’m done with the Royals. I just can’t do it.”
White’s departure leaves a proud baseball city saddened and confused. It has been painful enough to watch the Royals produce one winning season since 1994 and fail to return to the playoffs since their World Series title. Now, their hometown hero, raised in Kansas City, has publicly divorced himself from the team.
“This is a tragedy,” Royals general manager Dayton Moore says. “I can tell you that few days go by where I don’t think about it personally. I don’t know why Frank feels the way he does, but it’s been a complex situation.
“This isn’t what anybody wanted.”
‘It’s a horrible situation’
White, his hair flecked with gray and carrying extra weight around his midsection, steps out of his truck and walks into Gates Bar-B-Q on Brooklyn Avenue, near where he grew up.
Customers immediately recognize him. They walk up and shake his hand, talking about his defensive wizardry with the Royals. They also tell him they miss him, praying that one day there can be reconciliation.
“It’s a horrible situation,” says Bryan Krantz, 64, whose seats are behind home plate. “I don’t know what the inside deal is, but nobody is happy about it. They’re not going to have another All-Star Game in his lifetime, and for him not to be part of it is disheartening.”
Says season ticketholder Scott Asner, 61, the nephew of award-winning actor Ed Asner, “This is wrong, just flat wrong. You’re talking about a guy who’s as fine an individual the organization has ever produced.”
This is the first time in 42 years — outside of a three-year coaching stint with the Boston Red Sox— that White isn’t part of the Royals organization. He spent 18 years in the big leagues, was a first-base coach for four years, a front office executive for two years, a manager at Class AA Wichita for three years, a community relations executive for five years and most recently a TV analyst.
He was earning $150,000 in community relations and $1,800 a game as their color analyst.
These days, he’s earning $10,000 for the season as a first-base coach for the independent league Kansas City T-Bones, working mostly home games, with a side job as a roofing salesman.
It’s hardly glamorous, but White says this is the happiest he has been in years. He doesn’t second-guess his decision to resign from his community relations job in 2010 after the Royals told him they were cutting his salary to $50,000. He stayed on as the team’s broadcaster but was fired after the 2011 season. He was told by Royals officials that he was too negative on broadcasts, but he thinks it was payback for quitting the community relations job.
“I got to a point where I looked at myself in the mirror one day and didn’t like myself,” White said about his decision to resign from community relations. “I called my wife (Teresa) into the bathroom and told her, ‘I can’t take their crap anymore. I have to get away. If we have to sell everything we got, we’ve got to leave here, because I can’t put up with these people.’
“I gave so much, but they took so much away. You can’t compromise everything you believe in. In simple terms, they broke my heart.”
Royals owner David Glass and President Dan Glass declined to speak publicly about White’s departure, but Moore said it was not a personality conflict between White and the Glass family but an organizational move.
“At the end of the day, what you want from a leadership position is organizational harmony,” Moore said. “And that’s created in a lot of different ways. I don’t know what else to say about it, but no one is bigger than the game.”
White, 61, might have moved out of town if not for Chris Browne, vice president and GM of the T-Bones. Browne was a clubhouse attendant for the Royals from 1985 to 1991 and had always stayed in touch. When White was fired, Browne waited a month, then called. He offered him the first-base job.
“Frank talked about leaving Kansas City and moving to Arizona,” Browne said. “I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to keep him here in Kansas City. I hope one day he’s back with the Royals.
“I want our young fans to know who Frank White is and just what he means to this community.”
The T-Bones, who are having a Frank White Bobble-head Night on Aug. 14, announce White’s name with the starting lineup at each home game. When the players and coaches walk down a set of steps from the clubhouse, going through the right-field grass, to the field, no one is besieged as much as White.
“Hey, I’m a rock star here,” he says, laughing. “What Chris did was a lifeline. It kept me from totally blowing up.”
Disconnect with the inner city
White, whose only daily remnant to his Royals days is his blue shaving kit, drives around his old neighborhood at 29th and Olive. The folks in this part of town don’t care much these days about the Royals. They care about White, a pillar in the community.
“I was the black face on the TV that people could identify with in the inner city,” White says. “But by letting me go, it’s like they’re saying they don’t care. There’s such a disconnect between the Royals and the inner city now. They really made a huge mistake.”
The inner city is where White played every day at Spring Valley Park and crafted his baseball skills at Parade Park, where two fields recently were named in his honor. They would play every day and night, and on Sundays he and his friends would grab fries and soft drinks at Arthur Bryant’s BBQ, sneak into the left-field stands and watch Bert Campaneris and their favorite Kansas City A’s at old Kansas City Municipal Stadium. The A’s moved to Oakland in 1968, but Ewing Kauffman purchased the expansion Royals a year later and invited White to the Royals Academy in 1970.
“My parents didn’t have enough money to send me to college, and I was married with a son,” White said. “Had it not been for the academy, I never would have been in pro baseball.”
White was making $100 a week working as a shipping clerk at Truman Metals Protection plating company. The Royals offered him $50 a month to get his education and play baseball at their academy. He sought the advice of Bob Motley, the last living umpire of the Negro Leagues, who worked for the Royals.
“I told Frank to drop everything he’s doing, go to that academy and never look back,” Motley says. “He became our local hero. He stayed true to his community and was a true role model.
“That’s why I hate to see what happened. He needs the Royals, and the Royals need him.”
White still goes to his old neighborhood, where his brother Vernon and sister Mona live, and mows the yards of all the vacant lots each week. He still attends Morning Star Baptist Church, which his parents joined when they moved from Mississippi in 1955.
“They can take away my statue,” White says. “They can give away my number. It won’t matter. What they can’t do is take away my reputation.”
Says Hal McRae, White’s former longtime teammate, who will be in Kansas City this week, “Frank has been such a big part of the team and the city, we all hate to see what’s happening. I figured Frank and George would be part of the Royals organization for life.”
Teresa White wipes away tears, surrounded by Frank’s memorabilia in the basement of their home. Maybe one day, she says, “in a perfect world,” everyone can forgive.
“Eventually, there will be reconciliation,” says Steve Fehr, White’s former agent and a Kansas City-area native. “Frank is too important to the community and the history of the franchise. It would be nice if it happened when everybody is still alive.”
by Bob Nightengale on Jul. 08, 2012, under USA Today Sports
Frank White’s statue stands gloriously in the center-field concourse at Kauffman Stadium. His retired number hangs on the wall of the Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame Museum in left field, joined by baseball Hall of Famer George Brett.
But White, who won eight Gold Gloves as a second baseman, made five All-Star teams and helped the Royals win their only World Series title in 1985, refuses to set foot in the place.
Baseball’s All-Star Game is in Kansas City for the first time since 1973, and while Brett is the local master of ceremonies this All-Star week, White refuses to be involved.
He’ll be around town, just not inside the stadium. He’s signing autographs for a few hours at baseball’s Fan Fest. He participated in a children’s literacy event Saturday at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum and was to be part of the tribute Sunday night for beloved former Royals owner Ewing Kauffman.
Yet the only time he plans to come near Kauffman Stadium — baseball’s epicenter with Sunday’s Futures Game, today’s Home Run Derby and Tuesday’s All-Star Game — is on his drive home to Lee’s Summit, Mo.
“I’ll never set foot in that place again,” White told USA TODAY Sports. “I’m done with the Royals. I just can’t do it.”
White’s departure leaves a proud baseball city saddened and confused. It has been painful enough to watch the Royals produce one winning season since 1994 and fail to return to the playoffs since their World Series title. Now, their hometown hero, raised in Kansas City, has publicly divorced himself from the team.
“This is a tragedy,” Royals general manager Dayton Moore says. “I can tell you that few days go by where I don’t think about it personally. I don’t know why Frank feels the way he does, but it’s been a complex situation.
“This isn’t what anybody wanted.”
‘It’s a horrible situation’
White, his hair flecked with gray and carrying extra weight around his midsection, steps out of his truck and walks into Gates Bar-B-Q on Brooklyn Avenue, near where he grew up.
Customers immediately recognize him. They walk up and shake his hand, talking about his defensive wizardry with the Royals. They also tell him they miss him, praying that one day there can be reconciliation.
“It’s a horrible situation,” says Bryan Krantz, 64, whose seats are behind home plate. “I don’t know what the inside deal is, but nobody is happy about it. They’re not going to have another All-Star Game in his lifetime, and for him not to be part of it is disheartening.”
Says season ticketholder Scott Asner, 61, the nephew of award-winning actor Ed Asner, “This is wrong, just flat wrong. You’re talking about a guy who’s as fine an individual the organization has ever produced.”
This is the first time in 42 years — outside of a three-year coaching stint with the Boston Red Sox— that White isn’t part of the Royals organization. He spent 18 years in the big leagues, was a first-base coach for four years, a front office executive for two years, a manager at Class AA Wichita for three years, a community relations executive for five years and most recently a TV analyst.
He was earning $150,000 in community relations and $1,800 a game as their color analyst.
These days, he’s earning $10,000 for the season as a first-base coach for the independent league Kansas City T-Bones, working mostly home games, with a side job as a roofing salesman.
It’s hardly glamorous, but White says this is the happiest he has been in years. He doesn’t second-guess his decision to resign from his community relations job in 2010 after the Royals told him they were cutting his salary to $50,000. He stayed on as the team’s broadcaster but was fired after the 2011 season. He was told by Royals officials that he was too negative on broadcasts, but he thinks it was payback for quitting the community relations job.
“I got to a point where I looked at myself in the mirror one day and didn’t like myself,” White said about his decision to resign from community relations. “I called my wife (Teresa) into the bathroom and told her, ‘I can’t take their crap anymore. I have to get away. If we have to sell everything we got, we’ve got to leave here, because I can’t put up with these people.’
“I gave so much, but they took so much away. You can’t compromise everything you believe in. In simple terms, they broke my heart.”
Royals owner David Glass and President Dan Glass declined to speak publicly about White’s departure, but Moore said it was not a personality conflict between White and the Glass family but an organizational move.
“At the end of the day, what you want from a leadership position is organizational harmony,” Moore said. “And that’s created in a lot of different ways. I don’t know what else to say about it, but no one is bigger than the game.”
White, 61, might have moved out of town if not for Chris Browne, vice president and GM of the T-Bones. Browne was a clubhouse attendant for the Royals from 1985 to 1991 and had always stayed in touch. When White was fired, Browne waited a month, then called. He offered him the first-base job.
“Frank talked about leaving Kansas City and moving to Arizona,” Browne said. “I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to keep him here in Kansas City. I hope one day he’s back with the Royals.
“I want our young fans to know who Frank White is and just what he means to this community.”
The T-Bones, who are having a Frank White Bobble-head Night on Aug. 14, announce White’s name with the starting lineup at each home game. When the players and coaches walk down a set of steps from the clubhouse, going through the right-field grass, to the field, no one is besieged as much as White.
“Hey, I’m a rock star here,” he says, laughing. “What Chris did was a lifeline. It kept me from totally blowing up.”
Disconnect with the inner city
White, whose only daily remnant to his Royals days is his blue shaving kit, drives around his old neighborhood at 29th and Olive. The folks in this part of town don’t care much these days about the Royals. They care about White, a pillar in the community.
“I was the black face on the TV that people could identify with in the inner city,” White says. “But by letting me go, it’s like they’re saying they don’t care. There’s such a disconnect between the Royals and the inner city now. They really made a huge mistake.”
The inner city is where White played every day at Spring Valley Park and crafted his baseball skills at Parade Park, where two fields recently were named in his honor. They would play every day and night, and on Sundays he and his friends would grab fries and soft drinks at Arthur Bryant’s BBQ, sneak into the left-field stands and watch Bert Campaneris and their favorite Kansas City A’s at old Kansas City Municipal Stadium. The A’s moved to Oakland in 1968, but Ewing Kauffman purchased the expansion Royals a year later and invited White to the Royals Academy in 1970.
“My parents didn’t have enough money to send me to college, and I was married with a son,” White said. “Had it not been for the academy, I never would have been in pro baseball.”
White was making $100 a week working as a shipping clerk at Truman Metals Protection plating company. The Royals offered him $50 a month to get his education and play baseball at their academy. He sought the advice of Bob Motley, the last living umpire of the Negro Leagues, who worked for the Royals.
“I told Frank to drop everything he’s doing, go to that academy and never look back,” Motley says. “He became our local hero. He stayed true to his community and was a true role model.
“That’s why I hate to see what happened. He needs the Royals, and the Royals need him.”
White still goes to his old neighborhood, where his brother Vernon and sister Mona live, and mows the yards of all the vacant lots each week. He still attends Morning Star Baptist Church, which his parents joined when they moved from Mississippi in 1955.
“They can take away my statue,” White says. “They can give away my number. It won’t matter. What they can’t do is take away my reputation.”
Says Hal McRae, White’s former longtime teammate, who will be in Kansas City this week, “Frank has been such a big part of the team and the city, we all hate to see what’s happening. I figured Frank and George would be part of the Royals organization for life.”
Teresa White wipes away tears, surrounded by Frank’s memorabilia in the basement of their home. Maybe one day, she says, “in a perfect world,” everyone can forgive.
“Eventually, there will be reconciliation,” says Steve Fehr, White’s former agent and a Kansas City-area native. “Frank is too important to the community and the history of the franchise. It would be nice if it happened when everybody is still alive.”
