A VIEW FROM THE CHEAP SEATS
By Rich Trzupek
Remebering Jackie
This April marks 60 years since Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball. It was a momentous occasion, one that should be celebrated. In many ways, it set the stage for all of the earth-shattering changes to come: Brown vs. the Board of Education, Selma and civil rights legislation.
Jackie Robinson was a true pioneer, and a truly brave pioneer. He knew, full well, what he was getting into. Baseball is more than a professional sport in America, it�s a religion. A black man attempting to play the game with white men, after eighty-some years of apartheid, could only be viewed as blasphemy by millions of white folk at the time. Blasphemy is never well-received, Robinson knew this�and he stepped out of the frying pan and into the fire anyway.
He faced what may have been the most difficult task that any public figure, before or since, would have to endure. He would have to �take it,� and never, ever fight back.
For a man as proud, educated and talented as Robinson was, that had to be an enormous challenge. He left the Negro Leagues, and entered the white leagues alone; knowing that fans would hurl every insult at him they could think of, knowing that most of his teammates would�at best�give him the cold shoulder, knowing that opposing players would come at him, spikes high and fists clenched. And he knew, without question, that his only response would be this: �take it.�
Robinson occupied a unique position in American history. He stood up, front and center, as no one has done before or since, for an entire race - without a friend at his side. If he fought back, even a little (and there were so many reasons to fight back) he would be labeled a violent, unstable troublemaker�just like the rest of �his kind.� Robinson understood this. So, he swallowed his pride and took it.
He would win over some fans and players with his resolve. Many others could care less. No matter, Jackie did what he had to do, for a cause much bigger than himself.
He was not the best player of his era. That honor would go to Ted Williams. He was not even the best player of his race at the time. Satchel Paige and Roy Campenella can lay claim to that title.
But he was the first. He was Lewis and Clark. He was Columbus. He had the courage to blaze new ground, upon which Willie Mays, Hank Aaron and Reggie Jackson would tread. That�s not to mention Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and Colin Powell. All owe a debt to Jackie.
Another fascinating part of his story is the role that his sponsor, Branch Rickey, played in Jackie�s saga.
At the time, Rickey�who defined the term �rich, white guy��was General Manager for the Brooklyn Dodgers. He recruited Robinson, warned him what he was up against and ultimately promoted him to the major leagues.
In the 50s and 60s, Rickey was a co-hero in Robinson�s story. Rickey was the guy who broke the color barrier, against all odds.
Later, in the 80s and 90s, Rickey�s motives came into question. He was as prejudiced as the rest of the white guys, the story went, but he was also clever. Seeing that baseball�s version of apartheid would soon end, he moved to gobble up all of the black talent he could.
Let�s assume that this version of history is accurate. So what?
Whatever his reason for opening the door, Rickey was the first guy to actually open it. Whether he did so in order to strengthen his organization, or whether he did so to promote equality, it doesn�t matter. The bottom line is this: Branch Rickey was the first white executive to give a black ball-player a chance in the majors. Whatever was behind that decision, the fact is that none of his fellow white executives had the courage to make the same decision.
When he burst upon the league, Robinson was a phenom. He hit. He fielded his position flawlessly. He ran the bases like the wind.
At the time, many people looked at his talent and eventually concluded that baseball had made a mistake by misjudging black talent. That�s not quite right. White baseball knew, for a long time, that there were tremendously talented players in the Negro Leagues. They just didn�t want �em. Baseball had erred, not by misjudging black talent, but rather by pretending that talent only mattered within narrowly-defined boundaries.
In time, baseball would come to appreciate talent in every sort of package, from blow hards (like Reggie Jackson) to eccentrics (like Mark Fydrich). Everyone became welcome, and all owe a debt to Jackie Robinson.
He did not create a color-blind society�we�re still working on that�but he took a huge first first step along that path. More than anyone else involved in the Civil Rights movement, he deserves our unending thanks.
For Robinson, more than any other public figure, showed us that race is merely a matter of color of one�s skin, not of the depth of one�s heart.
