"No retaliation?” Jackie Robinson repeated back, rubbing his face in frustration.
“No, none. If you’re playing for my team, that is going to be the only thing you focus on; your team,” retaliates his coach, Branch Rickey.
In attempts to break the color barrier in baseball, manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers has recruited Jackie Robinson, who would be the first black-American to play Major League Baseball. However, Robinson, while known for his aggressive baserunning and high batting average, is also known for his temper.
Going home after a long first day of practice, Jackie Robinson goes home to his wife Rachel, where she has his favorite meal ready and waiting for him.
“How was the first day of practice, dear?” asks Rachel with a look of concern.
“Could’ve been better,” replies Robinson with a sigh.
Thinking back on his day, Robinson evaluated all the events of the day, and considered if it will all be worth it.
Walking on the field for the first time, Robinson couldn’t help but be amazed by the size and upkeep of the stadium. After playing in the all-Negro baseball league, the all-white National Baseball League was a whole new world. The bleachers had countless blue seats, the grass was a vivid green, and the faces around him were all shockingly white.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” were the first of many welcoming words issued to Robinson upon his arrival.
“I’m just here to play some baseball,” replies Robinson simply.
Despite many disgusted looks, Robinson continues walking towards the locker room where he was to change and meet his coach.
“Robinson, good to see you made it,” says Rickey with a nervous excitement. “Grab your glove, lets go meet the team.
Walking out onto the field for a second time, the stadium all the sudden seemed quite small in comparison to the glares meeting him. Throughout the next several weeks, these men would give Robinson hell.
“Men, this is Jackie Robinson. He’s going to be our first baseman this year,” the coach tells the disgruntled team. “He’s one of your brothers now, and you’re to treat him as an equal.”
The coach then turns to Robinson, “Now you remember our agreement, I don’t want any objections from you, no retaliations, no trouble. I’ll give you three chances Robinson, but three strikes and you’re out.”
“Yes, sir,” Robinson nervously replies as he straightens his cap.
It’s nothing I haven’t had to deal with before, Robinson thinks to himself.
Practice began with some simple drills, starting off with just throwing and catching with a partner. Of course, Robinson was picked last, pairing up with a quiet man named John. Although John didn’t seem to be too disgusted with Robinson being on their team, it was easy to see that he was unpleased to be his throwing partner. After throwing for a while, the team split into infielders and outfielders, Robinson headed towards the infield. The men were to take their positions, and Robinson was positioned at first base. With a coach hitting to the players, they were told to throw the ball to first base.
“Okay here we go” Robinson mutters to himself, preparing his stand and pulling on his glove. “Time to prove myself.”
Throughout the drill, it seemed almost as if his fellow infielders were testing Robinson. After easily hitting their partner on target during the throwing drill previous to this, it was clear the men had a skilled precision. But now, all the sudden throws were going in the dirt. Once the coach yelled at his men to clean up their acts, the throws were on target, but they had a bit of fire behind them. The throws, fueled by hatred, stuck Robinson's glove with a great force, and an aching hand to follow.
This is how practices would go for the next few days for Jackie Robinson; always being glared at, getting balls thrown at his ankles, the last one to shower, and overall treated like dirt. But Robinson knew it could be worse, so he kept his promise to his coach and kept his mouth shut. It was hard for him to do during practices, but games were really going to be what tested his patience and control.
“Are you nervous for your first game?” Rachel asks Robinson while preparing his lucky game-day breakfast.
“I have never been this nervous before in my life,” he replies honestly, rubbing his eyes.
It was game day for the Dodgers, and Robinson was making his debut at first base, and second in the batter lineup. Changing in the locker room before the game, Robinson laces up his cleats and slides into his jersey. Number 42.
Coach is giving the classic pre-game speech, but Robinson isn’t hearing a word. His head is down, praying to God for the strength to get through this game. What are people going to think, what are people going to do? Countless questions were flowing through Robinson’s head, and he just couldn’t seem to shake the nerves.
The very first play of the game, Robinson gets to see some action. The leadoff batter hits a grounder to the third baseman, who is able to field it cleanly and make a sharp throw to Robinson.
“OUT!” exclaims the umpire.
Out. He was out. This simple three letter, one syllable word is like music to Robinson’s ears. By making this play, all the nerves seem to leave his body. After getting three outs, it’s the Dodgers turn to bat. With Robinson up second, he is feeling good. In comes the pitch, and the crack of the bat sounds. Robinson is off, flying to first base.
While the crowd and opposing team were increasingly rowdy when Robinson was up to bat, it was nothing that Robinson couldn’t handle. That game, the Dodgers walked away with a win, Robinson being the winning run.
That night back at home, Robinson couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.
If I can do this, I can accomplish anything, Robinson thinks as his drifts off to sleep.