Curt Flood was 19 years old and had made one hit in the major leagues (a home run) when his telephone rang on Dec. 5 of 1957. The call was from the Cincinnati Reds, advising him that he had been traded to the St. Louis Cardinals.

"I knew ball players got traded like horses," he said years later, "but I can't tell you how I felt when it happened to me. I was only 19, but I made up my mind then it wouldn't ever happen again."

It happened again last October. The Cardinals traded Flood to Philadelphia. "'Maybe I won't go," Curt said. Baseball men laughed. Curt makes something like $90,000 a year playing center field, and less than that painting portraits in his studio in Clayton, Mo. "Unless he's better than Rernbrandt," one baseball man said, "he'll play."

It was a beautiful comment, superlatively typical of the executive mind, a pluperfect example of baseball's reaction to unrest down in the slave cabins. "You mean," baseball demands incredulously, "that at these prices they want human rights, too?"

Curtis Charles Flood is a man of character and self-respect. Being black, he is more sensitive than most white players about the institution of slavery as it exists in professional baseball. After the trade he went abroad, and when he returned his mind was made up. He confided his decision to the 24 club representatives in the Major League Players Association at their convention in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

He told them it was high time somebody in baseball made a stand for human freedom. He said he was determined to make the the stand and he asked their support. The players questioned him closely to make sure this wa not merely a ploy to squeeze money out of the Phillies. Then, convinced, they voted unanimously to back him up.

Realizing that if Flood lost his case through poor handling they would all be losers, the players arranged -- through their executive director, Marvin Miller -- to retain Athur J. Goldberg, former Secretary of Labor, former justice of the Supreme Court, former United States ambassador to the United Nations, and the country's most distinguished authority on labor-management relations.

Baseball's so-called reserve clause, which binds the player to his employer through his professional life, had been under fire before. Never has it been attacked by a team like this.

The system is in deep trouble, and yesterday's action by the baseball commissioner, Bowie Kuhn, did nothing to help it out. Because the news was out that Flood was going to take baseball to court, Kuhn released to the press the following correspondence:

"Dear Mr. Kuhn," Flood wrote on Dec. 24, 1969, "after 12 years in the major leagues I do not feel that I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes. I believe that any system that produces that result violates my basic rights as a citizen and is inconsistent with the laws of the United States and of the several states.

"It is my desire to play baseball in 1970, and I am capable of playing. I have received a contract offer from the Philadelphia club, but I believe that I have the right to consider offers from other clubs before making any decisions. I, therefore, request that you make known to all the major league clubs my feelings in this matter, and advise them of my availability for the 1970 season."

Kuhn replied:

"Dear Curt: This will acknowledge your letter of Dec. 24, 1969, which I found on returning to my office yesterday. "I certainly agree with you that you, as a human being, are not a piece of property to be bought and sold. That is fundamental in our society and I think obvious. However, I cannot see its application to the situation at hand.

"You have entered into a current playing contract with the St. Louis club which has the same assignment provisions as those in your annual major league contracts since 1956. Your present playing contract has been assigned in accordance with its provisions by the St. Louis club to the Philadelphia club. The provisions of the playing contract have been negotiated over the years between the clubs and the players, most recently when the present basic agreement was negotiated two years ago between the clubs and the Players Association.

"If you have any specific objections to the propriety of the assignment I would appreciate your specifying the objections. Under the circumstances, and pending any further information from you, I do not see what action I can take, and cannot comply with your request contained in the second paragraph of your letter.

"I am pleased to see your statement that you desire to play baseball in 1970. I take it this puts to rest any thought, as reported earlier in the press, that you were considering retirement."

Thus the commissioner restates baseball's labor policy: "Run along, sonny, you bother me."

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