When Robinson "made it"

The numbers show that Jackie Robinson had a successful rookie season in 1947 (.297 average, 29 steals, 125 runs), but it wasn't until the next year that he truly felt he'd arrived.

On August 24, 1948—sixteen months after becoming the first African-American ballplayer in modern major league history—Jackie Robinson finally “made” it in the big leagues when he became the first black player to be thrown out of a major league game. In the fourth inning of a 2-1 game between Brooklyn and Pittsburgh, umpire Butch Henline warned Robinson and the rest of his Dodger teammates against yelling from the dugout. But Robinson and his distinctive high-pitched voice disobeyed, and the thumb came out quick. Robinson argued the ejection to no avail, as his Dodgers went on to lose 9-1.

“Well,” he said after the game, laughing, “I broke in tonight.”

The word around the league had been that umpires were afraid to toss Robinson. “I saw Robinson even throw his cap into the air on a decision by an umpire and nothing happened to him,” said one anonymous player. “I always thought that was an automatic ‘out’.”

Perhaps as much as his actual major league debut, the occasion of his ejection may have helped solidify the place of Robinson and other blacks in the majors. If nothing else, it sent a signal around the majors, where six other Negro league veterans had played since April 1947: We don’t want any special treatment. We are ballplayers, like you.

More Jackie Robinson

I've done a lot of research into Jackie Robinson's career, especially his first season. Somebody beat me to writing a book about it (Opening Day by Jonathan Eig). But I wanted to share with you the dramatic story of the signing of Robinson by Dodgers' GM Branch Rickey. This is an oft-told tale but some fans may not know it.

Imagine the scene. Robinson and Rickey are in the Dodgers' office in Brooklyn.  Rickey asks if Robinson knows why he's there. Robinson tells him what the scout who brought him there said: that Rickey is starting a new Negro league team.

“That’s what he was supposed to tell you,” Rickey says. “The truth is, I’ve sent for you because I’m interested in you as a candidate for the Brooklyn National League Club. I think you can play in the major leagues. How do you feel about it?”

Robinson is stunned speechless.

“Do you think you can play?” Rickey asks.

“Yes,” says Robinson, finally.

Rickey reveals that he had been investigating Robinson for a long time. He knew that Robinson had grown up poor near Los Angeles and had starred in four sports at UCLA. He knew that Robinson had been an officer in the U.S. Army at a time when few blacks were allowed to become officers. He probably even knew that Robinson had been wrongly accused of disrespecting a superior officer in an incident stemming from Jackie’s refusal to move to the back of an Army bus. And that Robinson had successfully fought all the charges against him and was honorably discharged from the Army.

Rickey seemed to know everything. And he admired Robinson for always standing up for himself. But now what he wanted to know was whether Robinson could withstand the pressure of breaking the color line.

Rickey warns Robinson about what he would face. Pitches thrown at his head. Racial insults from fans and opposing players. Base runners sliding with spikes high. Umpires calling close plays against him. Maybe even death threats.

To everything, Robinson says he can handle it.

Then Rickey insists on a commitment from Robinson: no fighting back. No matter what happens, no matter what names he is called, Robinson is supposed to respond with silence.

But Robinson was not known for turning the other cheek when confronted with a challenge. “Are you looking for someone who doesn’t have the guts to fight back?” he asks, his voice rising.

“I’m looking for someone with guts enough not to fight back!” Rickey replies.

Rickey believed that if Robinson could remain quiet for three years, it would be long enough for the rest of the league to see that blacks and whites could play alongside each other without race getting in the way.

Just three years—that’s all Rickey is asking for.

Robinson thinks about it, then agrees to Rickey’s terms. He signs the contract with the Dodgers that day and begins preparing to enter a firestorm.

April 15 is Jackie Robinson Day

Tomorrow marks the 61st anniversary of Jackie Robinson's major league debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Most people know the basic story about Jackie, but I think it's worthwhile to remind people that most of the baseball establishment really opposed integration. 

When the signing was announced to the public, for example, some people accused Branch Rickey, the Dodgers' GM, of simply trying to sell more tickets to the growing African-American population in Brooklyn.

Others, including Hall of Fame second baseman Rogers Hornsby, claimed integration would never work because black and white ballplayers could never get along on the road.

Still others voiced their belief that blacks simply didn’t have the skill to succeed. For example, the president of the New York Yankees, Larry MacPhail, declared, “There are few, if any, Negro players who could qualify for play in the major leagues at this time.”

And others predicted Jackie himself didn’t have the skills to make it. The Sporting News wrote an editorial in which they predicted that Jackie “conceivably will discover that as a 26-year-old shortstop just off the sandlots, the waters of competition in the International League will flood far over his head.” A writer for the New York Daily News called Jackie a “1000-1 shot to make the grade.”

Of course, Robinson did succeed, beyond anyone's expectations. He won the Rookie of the Year Award in 1947 and an MVP in 1949, and he led his Dodgers to six pennants in his 10-year career.