The October 1951 edition of SPORT magazine had a story about the fifth season in the major league of the player. We are republishing it in celebration of the 75th anniversary of Robinson's debut. The story has been reduced for clarity and space.
Jack Roosevelt Robinson of the Brooklyn Dodgers made a precedent-breaking invasion of organized baseball wearing an armor of humility. It was an unnatural garment that dug into both his flesh and spirit, and it was for him. The armor Branch Rickey chose for him hid his true combativeness, allowing him to vent his anger with his bat, glove and flying feet, which no man but Robinson could fully appreciate. The humility he practiced so conscientiously did not come naturally. No man could possibly play baseball with the fire and dash Robinson exhibits. There was more reserve inJackie than any white ball player had ever shown. He had to have it, and just as he pounds a base-hit has to be obtained, so he restrained his emotions when it had to be done to assure his success. Five years have passed since the great second baseman of the Dodgers broke into the National League, and each year he has been inclined to appease fewer and fewer people. It is a noteworthy milestone in the history of baseball that Robinson is now his own man.
The shackles have been thrown off slowly. He was forced to apologize to umpire Cal Hubbard during the World Series after he wrangled with the umpires. In 1950, he took the brakes off of his feud with Durocher. He accused the National League umpires of trying to provoke him by forming a heckling group against him. The National League President was invited to investigate. He stood on the diamond chin to chin and argued with the umpire during an exhibition game in North Carolina. bean balls were thrown at his head and his teammates in the Giants game. In one game, he laid down a sacrifice fly to force the pitcher to field the ball on the first base line. I will take the fine, the suspension or anything else that goes with it, but this throwing at a man's head has to stop. If the umpires are unwilling to stop it, Mr. Frick should step in.
Robinson said that Larry Jansen hit him with a pitch. The mark is still there. Maglie threw one too close to me. I decided to protect myself and the other fellows. I wanted to create enough of a commotion to bring this thing to a head.
Rachel, who has made priceless contributions to her husband's pioneer job in baseball, was particularly aware of the tension as she watched the game from her usual seat. She kept her ears open to the comments about her husband. A man seated near her said, "There's a guy getting bigheaded," as she and her husband drove back to their home. It is a comment that has been made many times within recent months in one way or another, as Robinson has demonstrated that he doesn't have to circumscribe other players. I've heard it in bars, on planes, and on trains, where baseball people gather. I've watched him from the beginning and have seen his aggressiveness increase.
The armor of humility will never be worn again byJackie. The realJackie Robinson is with the wraps off. Is he really big-headed, or getting a "god complex", as one reader wrote me following the Maglie incident, or has Robinson merely passed from stage to natural stage in the evolution of his great experiment in baseball?
Many words have been written about the fury of Eddie Stanky, the emotional combativeness of Enos Slaughter, and the goading insolence of Leo Durocher. The personality of these men is the reflection of that aggressive quality which lifts them above others of equal or greater ability.
One must understand how it must have been for Robinson to play baseball, even though he was forced to operate under the most harrowing circumstances and conditions, because he was one of the all-time greats of baseball. Who is allowed to let the feelings escape a man who rages with emotion?
Bench-jockeying is a part of baseball and the man who gives it expects to get it back. But at the beginning, she could not give. In tight flag races, in slumps, in spurts, on bad plays and close decisions by umpires, in the thousand little disturbing moments that mark the 154 games of every baseball season. There was no outlet for Robinson.
Before judging the man, consider the circumstances. In 1947 and 1949, Robinson paced the Dodgers to their flags and won the most valuable player award, both of which he had won the year before. Despite his obvious success on the field, far exceeding what Rickey had hoped for, he could not be satisfied with things as they were. He had a resentment at being stifled that was bound by restrictive do's and don'ts that threatened his mental stability.
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Mrs. Robinson, a registered nurse who understands the limits to which a man can expose his body and mind to self-discipline, disclosed what torment she and her husband went through in the seasons.
At the end of Jack's first baseball season, she became very worried. I knew he couldn't go along day after day, week after week, and month after month. I agreed with what Mr. Rickey had said. I expected my husband to break loose at home even if he couldn't do it on the field. I would have been happy if he had said something at home. He was asked to speak when we were alone. Jack became less talky when he had a problem.
Mrs. Robinson said that he couldn't eat at night. Jack was warned by a doctor that he would suffer a nervous breakdown if he didn't stay away from the ball park. Jack wouldn't give up. He was back, playing as well as he ever did before, and carrying the same problems around within him.
It would have been strange if the interments were placed upon him because of his color. Before he ever stepped on a field, a complete code of conduct was foreordained for Robinson. Rickey sent his advance man and plans to control the natural- and sometimes bestial-forces wherever he was due to appear.
Committees were set up through churches and social organizations and civic leaders were formed to handle Robinson clubs. Each prepared a list of things to do and things not to do. His conduct on and off the field was to be decided by him. Before he ever swung a bat or field a ball, his deportment received more attention than Princess Elizabeth.
He couldn't endorse breakfast foods or lend his name to magazine articles that would swell a player's income and reputation. He came to the ball park and left the same way. The fans and the stands were critical of the team. It was feared thatJackie would be more of a symbol than a ball player.
For the most part, it was an admirable campaign and it served a purpose. There was an attempt to stifle the enthusiasm of the millions who saw Robinson.
Those who have not traveled the road with the Dodgers, but who have seen Robinson enter or leave the ball parks around the circuit know what a tremendous influence he has on a whole race of people.
The bystander in Wrigley Field, Chicago, is struck by the full meaning ofJackie Robinson for his people. They regard him with nothing less than reverence, which is a word that can only be applied to the deity. This isn't meant to be sacrilegious. It is a recognition of what Robinson has come to mean.
The Dodgers travel to and from Wrigley Field in a private bus that is parked on a side street. When the bus arrives at the ball park, thousands of people are waiting to see them, but after the game the crush is so thick it is almost impossible to get to the waiting vehicle.
Every Dodger is a hero of sorts, for anyone who comes in contact with Robinson have assumed that he is a hero, certain of his attributes. Roy Campanella and Don Newcombe come in for their share of attention, but the true admiration is reserved for Robinson. There is a feeling of religious relief as the crowd sees a man in front of them and they crush him into a mass on either side of him.
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