I was deep in research for Pioneers of the Pacific — a forthcoming baseball documentary by Kirk Findlay of Findlay Films — when I typed “Mavericks” and “Kurt Russell” into newspapers.com and stumbled into Walla Walla, Washington.
What I found wasn't the famous Portland team. It was a long-forgotten prison baseball team called the Mavericks, with a history stretching all the way back to 1907. Behind the walls of the Washington State Penitentiary, men were playing ball — and their stories were waiting in the archives.
A 1939 team photo with a list of inmates' last names lit the fuse. Mugshots. Crime ledgers. Inmate-written newspapers with their own sports columns, editorials, and poetry. And box scores that listed the players only by their inmate numbers.
Those numbers stopped me cold. I've never spent a day behind bars, and I'd never compare a paycheck in the free world to a prison sentence — but in a much smaller way, I know what it feels like to be reduced to a number. I spent 13 years in the grocery business and another 21 representing those workers through my union, and somewhere along the way the corporate mentality took over and they literally issued us employee numbers. It left me feeling insignificant. So when I saw a box score full of digits where names should have been, something in me wanted to give these men their names back — the same impulse the reform-minded warden and Washington state leadership seemed to have in the early 1900s, when they believed a man behind the walls was still a man.
None of that erases the harm these men caused. Every crime had a victim, and I carry their stories with me too — I can just as easily picture myself in their shoes. Giving an inmate his name back isn't excusing what he did; it's refusing to pretend he stopped being a person the day the cell door closed.
So I started matching numbers to names, names to family trees, family trees to living relatives. I tracked down their lives after prison — the second acts no one had bothered to write. What began as a sidebar became three years of obsession with prison and prison baseball history — and a question I still can't shake: does the way we punish actually work?
Ball 'n' Chains weaves together prison baseball, the men who played it, and the lost history of the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla — one inning at a time.