I am a huge baseball fan. I’m talking crazy, obsessed, can’t get enough, nut-type of fan. In fact, when the Chicago Cubs finally won the World Series in 2016, I lost my freakin’ mind … seriously, it was both scary and comical at the same time. I get lost in the sport, emotionally, and totally invested.
It’s really the only television I watch. Even this year, I was craving my “hit” so badly that I decided to pay for the MLB app to watch spring training rather than hold off until opening day.
I mean, my dog’s name is Ernie Banks, if that tells you anything!
You see, baseball is in my blood … it is deep within my family blood lines, literally and figuratively.
Since I was a little kid, from about the age of five years old and on, baseball has been a form of communication, a love language actually, within in my family. Sports, in general, really. I can remember sitting in my grandparents’ rec room with my mom, Mom-mom, and Aunt Clem.
It was a weekend ritual. Even as I got older, I used to carry a radio around with me to make sure I could catch the games. I love the sound of the announcers giving the play-by-play … it just always made me feel like I was part of the game, at the field, with the smell of hotdogs and pretzels and popcorn wafting through and filling the air.
And, for me, there was (and still is) no place like Wrigley Field.
My family on the other hand, were all Philadelphia Phillies fans. Me, being me, as stubborn as a mule, and always determined to blaze my own path, chose my team at the age of five. Back then we only got local channels (we were living on the East Coast, as both my parents are from there), along with TBS and WGN. For me, WGN was the greatest channel ever as a kid.
Even through the small television set, I thought Wrigley Field was magical.
The ivy on the walls, announcers like Harry Caray, the players, the uniforms … all of it. So, I chose the Chicago Cubs as my team. Or, perhaps, somehow, they chose me. Needless to say, I was a goner from that moment on. Investing energy and emotions on all my Chicago teams for then on.
Now, we were a baseball family. And, a football family (later I fell in love with both hockey, boxing, and basketball, as well … my Grandpa Britton would be so proud). But, first and foremost, baseball was our jam.
We invested a lot of weekends in that rec room, watching games … usually just the women in the family, as my Pop-pop was usually down in the cellar working on his craft, and who knows where my dad was those days.
So, I grew up surrounded by strong women who taught me the game. The game of baseball, the love of baseball, and the agony of baseball.
All these memories with with my dad’s side of the family.
However, I came to learn later on that baseball was an even bigger deal in my mom’s family. Yet, we never really talked about it growing up.
There was a secret, a legacy, that we never discussed.
Fast-forward to later years, when my sister got super interested in our family lineage. She started to dig into and research our family tree. And, in her research, she stumbled across something that profoundly changed our lives and further deepened my love of the game, the game of baseball.
For what she found out was that my maternal great-grandmother (my mom’s grandmother) was the FIRST woman to EVER own a Major League Baseball (MLB) team. Yes, you read that right … the FIRST WOMAN.
What we came to find out was that my great-grandmother, Helene Hathaway Robison Britton, not only was the first woman to own a major league baseball team, but she was also the first woman to own any professional team in the Western Hemisphere.
And, what’s even crazier is that my great-grandmother own the St. Louis Cardinals for 6 years … and, all before women even had the right to vote!
Talk about a legacy! And, a tribute to a woman truly blazing a path.
My great, great grandfather, Frank Robison, and great, great uncle, Stanley Robison, actually helped to start what became the Cleveland Spiders (now, the Guardians), and then moved their streetcar business to St. Louis and took over ownership of the Cardinals when they did.
My great, great uncle then bequeathed the team to my great-grandmother: Helene Hathaway Robison Britton upon his death.
What!!! When my sister found this out, we were shocked. Well, at least us kids were. It seems my mom’s family thought it wasn’t really any big deal so they never really talked about it. As we learned more, we found pictures and memorabilia of my great-grandmother’s time as an MLB owner.
My sister’s research led to a baseball historian, Joan Thomas, catching wind of our story and requesting that she be able to write a book, “The First Woman of Baseball” in honor of my great-grandmother’s story. I remember it all like it was yesterday. Talk about being truly honored by my bloodlines.
Later, the St. Louis Cardinals organization reached out to us as they were putting together an exhibit to pay special tribute to “Women in Baseball” and they wanted to put something very special together to honor Helene. So they did, with my family’s help.
In June 2017, my mom, sister, brother and I were invited to Busch Stadium in St, Louis, MO to honor my great-grandmother. My mom got to throw out the first pitch that day, as she is the only granddaughter of Helene. We were given the VIP treatment and learned so much about the history and legacy my great-grandmother created.
If you study the pictures I shared above, you will see that Helene was forced to stand as the men sat whenever the owners meetings were conducted. Remember, she own the Cardinals before women could vote.
Needless to say, she experienced a tremendous amount of pressure, nasty comments, and rhetoric about her role as an owner.
Helene rose to the occasion all while raising two young kids, my grandpa and my Aunt Noonie (who I remember fondly watching baseball with … she would don her pearls and a baseball hat, and would get fiesty and lit up when her Phillies played).
The more I learn about my great-grandmother, Helene Hathaway Robison Britton, the more I am in awe.
For starters, it seems Helene was the one responsible for reinstating Women’s Day at the ballpark, allowing women (again, remember this was before women had the right to vote) to attend baseball games without a male escort. Think about how profound that was, especially at that time.
Helene eventually had to sell the team, as her husband, Skylar, gambled away their money and the pressure to maintain the team became too much. But, for six years, my great-grandmother held her own in what was definitely a good ‘ole boys club.
The newspapers ridiculed her. In fact, one writer wrote a very punchy poem that was published claiming that baseball was coming to an end if a woman was at the helm. Yet, Helene persevered.
Her strength, conviction, and love of baseball kept her in the game. And, I personally couldn’t be prouder to be the great-granddaughter of the first woman to ever own a major league team. What a freakin’ legacy, no doubt!
Baseball truly is in my blood. It runs so deep within my family history and my lineage. From 1899–1916, my family held ownership of the St. Louis Cardinals. First my great-grandfather, Frank Robison, and my great, great uncle, Stanley Robison, owned the team from 1899–1910, then Helene took over in 1911 and held ownership until 1916.
The more I learn about Helene, the more I see the fire that both my sister and I have to change the world, to blaze our own paths, and to create and lead our own living legacies. For Helene dared to do the unthinkable. She dared to set herself apart. She chose to take the challenge presented to her when she was bequeathed the team.
For six years, she fought, she used and amplified her voice, she persevered, and she championed women’s rights in the realm of sports … making an everlasting mark in baseball.
She played in a fierce ‘good-ole-boys’ club, and through many challenges and struggles (you can just imagine how she was treated, as there weren’t many who appreciated her position), she stayed the course.
She showed up. She leaned in. She chose to be brave. She chose to lead. And, she made history (or her-story) in doing so. And, today I pay special tribute to a woman who blazed a path in baseball, and for me, my sister, my mom, and my niece. She has become the example for what is possible.
Yes, baseball is in my blood. Deep, deep, deep in my blood.