Travel back in time to 1973—a time with no internet, no cell phones, no 24/7 news channels, and…no real organized sports leagues for girls. For Carolyn King, summer meant pick-up games of baseball, basketball, or tennis with her brothers and neighborhood friends at the park across the street from her house. So, when her 10-year-old brother Greg decided to try out for the Ypsilanti Little League, 12-year-old Carolyn decided to try out too.
Looking back, King said she had no idea the impact that decision would have. “I didn’t know the rules or the headlines going on at the time,” she says. “I didn’t set out to change anything. I just wanted to play baseball.”
At the time, Little League Baseball was strictly for 10-, 11-, and 12-year-old boys. In the Ypsilanti area, hundreds tried out, but not everyone made a team. When King went to register, league officials were unsure what to do—a girl had never tried out before. Ypsilanti Little League President Bill Anhut had to give her the news: girls were not allowed to play in Little League.
Defeated, King began to walk away—but stopped when she felt something on her back. It was Bill Anhut pinning a number to her shirt. “If you really want to try out,” he said, “I’m going to let you. I’m going to give you a shot.” King was given a chance—but she had to earn it. A place on a team wasn’t given, it had to be won.
That evening, all the coaches gathered for the Little League draft, basing selections on the player evaluations they’d conducted earlier in the day, as they always had. But something unprecedented happened—Wayne Warren, head coach of the Orioles, selected Carolyn King. A girl had been drafted to a team in the Ypsilanti Little League division.
On May 1, 1973, the Ypsilanti Press ran a front-page story on King playing Little League. The story was picked up by the Associated Press and soon covered nationwide—including by Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News. When Little League headquarters in Williamsport, Pa., found out, they threatened to revoke the league’s charter if King played in a game. This was serious: without a charter, the league couldn't form an All-Star team or enter playoffs for a chance at the Little League World Series.
Initially, the Ypsilanti Little League Board and coaches voted to keep King on the team. They also contacted each of the 12-year-old boys in the league, since they would be affected if the All-Star team was disqualified. Eighteen boys said King should stay; 23 said she should go. But every single player on the Orioles—King’s team—voted to keep her.
Under renewed pressure from Williamsport, the board held an emergency vote and reluctantly decided to remove King from the team—trying, as they put it, to consider the good of the entire league.
“She’s very good, and that’s the crime of the whole thing,” said Ypsilanti Little League Vice President Robert Taylor at the time. “If she was a mediocre player you could say, ‘Forget it,’ but she puts most 11- and 12-year-olds to shame.”
But King’s story didn’t end there. The City of Ypsilanti got involved. Led by Mayor George Goodman—who had followed her story with earnest—the city council voted unanimously that if King was prohibited from playing, the league could no longer use city-owned fields or equipment. One newspaper headline said it all: “No Carolyn, no ballpark.” Faced with this decision and knowing their charter would likely be revoked, the Ypsilanti Little League made a historic choice: they would let King play.
On May 10, 1973, Carolyn King—a sixth-grade girl from Ypsilanti who just wanted to play baseball—started at center field in Candy Cane Park. The game made national headlines. Afterward, Little League International officially revoked the Ypsilanti Little League’s charter.
King and the City of Ypsilanti went on to sue Little League Baseball for discrimination. Though they lost the case on a technicality, the pressure from public opinion made a lasting impact. In 1974, Williamsport dropped its “no-girls” rule, and by spring 1975, girls were officially allowed to play Little League Baseball.
“It was heroic what they did,” said Buddy Moorhouse, one of Carolyn’s former teammates. “There’d been plenty of other girls who had tried to play Little League, and who had gone to tryouts. A girl in New Jersey played three games, and then Little League Baseball said, ‘You need to kick her off,’ and they did. But Ypsilanti stuck up for Carolyn. If not for that, her story would be like all the others.”
Carolyn’s bravery—and the support of her city—are featured in a documentary, The Girl in Centerfield: The Story of Carolyn King and the Summer That Changed Youth Baseball. Created by Brian Kruger and Buddy Moorhouse, the film includes game footage, audio recordings, and interviews with the key figures who helped make history. It captivates from start to finish.
King’s story has opened the door for millions of girls to play Little League across the nation. Today, in the ballclub now known as the Ypsi-Arbor American Little League and beyond, if a girl loves the game—there’s nothing holding her back from playing it. And it’s all thanks, in part, to one brave girl and the town that stood by her.
Stream the full documentary and experience this powerful story for yourself on Amazon Prime Video or AppleTV+. To learn more about the Ypsi-Arbor American Little League, visit ypsiarborll.org.
“She’s very good, and that’s the crime of the whole thing….she puts most 11- and 12-year-olds to shame.”
— Robert Taylor, former Ypsilanti Little League vice president