A legend for his career in the Negro Leagues and later as an MLB scout, Buck O'Neil passed away in October at age 94. AP

By John Garrity

I could write a thousand words and give you a dozen reasons why Buck O'Neil, the great Negro Leagues icon and the Major Leagues' first African-American scout, should be SI's Sportsman of the Year. But I won't. Once you start putting a man's achievements on a scale -- weighing his charm and character, say, against another man's career ERA -- you've pretty much missed the point.

Besides, I don't want to be disappointed again. Back in March, when a 12-member panel of baseball historians, authors and, apparently, nitwits, announced that O'Neil would not be among 17 special Negro Leagues inductees into the Baseball Hall of Fame, I lost a night's sleep. I cried real tears. And I was not alone. Millions greeted the news with sadness and disbelief.

"O'Neil may not have made Baseball's Hall of Fame," wrote George Mitrovich, president of the City Club of San Diego, "but make no mistake about it, he's already in the Human Hall of Fame. And his presence there will ensure that Buck O'Neil will be remembered a thousand summers from now."

Fine, you say, but it's Sportsman of the year. I know that. But tell me, who, in 2006, personified sportsmanship better than 94-year-old Buck O'Neil? There he was, at the end of July, standing at a podium in Cooperstown, N.Y., graciously leading the celebration for the 17 posthumous Hall of Fame inductees.

"This is quite an honor for me," he said. "See, I played in the Negro Leagues." Then, in a gesture worthy of a special niche in Cooperstown, he had the Hall of Famers on stage and the thousands in the audience join hands while he led them in song: "The greatest thing ... in all my life ... is loving you."

"There wasn't anything that could break that man's joyful spirit," said my friend, Joe Posnanski, sports columnist for The Kansas City Star.

I'm aware that I may be biased. I live in Kansas City, Mo., where O'Neil starred for and later managed the Monarchs. I sat with him at Royals Stadium on more than one occasion, back when he was a septuagenarian scout and I was a fledgling baseball writer. I played golf with him once. He called me "Stretch" and made me wish that our six-hour round had lasted longer.

But I'm just a back-bencher when it comes to O'Neil devotion. In October, when Buck died, more than 10,000 of his admirers filed past his open casket at the Negro Leagues Museum in Kansas City. Tributes poured in from all points of the compass.

"Buck helped shape the game," said Hall of Famer Lou Brock. "But even greater, he shaped the character of young black men. He touched the heart of everyone who loved the game."

Is a picture still worth a thousand words? If it is, I say we put O'Neil's sweet, smiling countenance on the Sportsman of the Year issue.