Forty-two
"42" is the number on the Brooklyn Dodgers uniform worn by Jackie Robinson when he broke the color barrier in major league baseball. The movie bearing that title is the story of how he came to that time, and what his rookie season was like. Baseball is the background, but the story is one man, two really, driving an unstoppable wedge to splinter an unjust structure of racism. The story is what it required of them on profound personal levels, and the story is true.
Who is the 'two' if Robinson is 'one'? Branch Rickey, owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers. He was the impetus, and while he tries to palm it off as smart business--and he is canny and skilled--it isn't that. Rarely does a film story include personal, Christian faith and play it as the quiet foundation: no hitting the audience on the head to proselyte, no snarking either.
Rickey selects Robinson as the one to break the code, the unwritten law of separation. He describes what might be ahead and asks, "Can you handle that and keep your temper in check?"
"Are you looking for a man without the strength to fight back?"
"No, I'm looking for a man with the strength not to fight." Not to return anger for anger, "as our Savior did not--can you be as He was?"
Robinson's answer: "Yes, I can. God built me to last." Strained to his very limits, he holds onto that.
The abuse, the distaste of his own teammates, the places where his presence throws all of them out of their accustomed places to stay or to eat and they are now refused. Those who come around--first of all, because he's good--and come to see him as a person, and those who who aren't interested in seeing him. All he's offered at first is a season with the Dodgers farm team to see if he can make good, but then he is moved up and the world can't ignore what's happening. He gets a spot on the Dodgers, but only if he will play first base, which is not his position--he was shortstop on the Negro League team and second base on the Florida (white) farm team. The manager tells him he doesn't have a vacancy in either of those positions, and he won't budge, but he works with him and Robinson makes the grade and gets that spot.
He tells Rickey, the owner, that he just wants to play ball. "Just put a bat in my hand and a number on my back." He wins the final game run that wins the league, and he makes 1947 Rookie of the Year. The team goes on to win the World's Series in the 50's. But there is much more to his place on the team than that, much more to his story.
I knew that the Dodgers retired his number, 42, but I didn't know that all of major league baseball retired the number 42 for all teams everywhere, for all time. Such is the mark of respect and recognition of what he did for baseball. What he did for far beyond baseball. He didn't break, even though he came close in that first major league game, and he broke down the walls that needed to be crumbled.
Sitting here, I remember that "42" was also Douglas Adam's nonsensical answer to "Life, the Universe, and Everything" in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. After being yanked off of earth and onto various ridiculous and dangerous planets, that was the supercomputer-of-all-the-galaxy's mega-intelligence analysis. The earth man was dumbfounded, bewildered--what the heck did that mean?
Life, the universe, and everything...maybe it's not a bad answer, stepping forward for what's right even in the firestorm of prejudice, and for acknowledging the individual to be the person he truly is, worthy of respect and appreciation for his talents, determination, and character.
Who is the 'two' if Robinson is 'one'? Branch Rickey, owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers. He was the impetus, and while he tries to palm it off as smart business--and he is canny and skilled--it isn't that. Rarely does a film story include personal, Christian faith and play it as the quiet foundation: no hitting the audience on the head to proselyte, no snarking either.
Rickey selects Robinson as the one to break the code, the unwritten law of separation. He describes what might be ahead and asks, "Can you handle that and keep your temper in check?"
"Are you looking for a man without the strength to fight back?"
"No, I'm looking for a man with the strength not to fight." Not to return anger for anger, "as our Savior did not--can you be as He was?"
Robinson's answer: "Yes, I can. God built me to last." Strained to his very limits, he holds onto that.
The abuse, the distaste of his own teammates, the places where his presence throws all of them out of their accustomed places to stay or to eat and they are now refused. Those who come around--first of all, because he's good--and come to see him as a person, and those who who aren't interested in seeing him. All he's offered at first is a season with the Dodgers farm team to see if he can make good, but then he is moved up and the world can't ignore what's happening. He gets a spot on the Dodgers, but only if he will play first base, which is not his position--he was shortstop on the Negro League team and second base on the Florida (white) farm team. The manager tells him he doesn't have a vacancy in either of those positions, and he won't budge, but he works with him and Robinson makes the grade and gets that spot.
He tells Rickey, the owner, that he just wants to play ball. "Just put a bat in my hand and a number on my back." He wins the final game run that wins the league, and he makes 1947 Rookie of the Year. The team goes on to win the World's Series in the 50's. But there is much more to his place on the team than that, much more to his story.
I knew that the Dodgers retired his number, 42, but I didn't know that all of major league baseball retired the number 42 for all teams everywhere, for all time. Such is the mark of respect and recognition of what he did for baseball. What he did for far beyond baseball. He didn't break, even though he came close in that first major league game, and he broke down the walls that needed to be crumbled.
Sitting here, I remember that "42" was also Douglas Adam's nonsensical answer to "Life, the Universe, and Everything" in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. After being yanked off of earth and onto various ridiculous and dangerous planets, that was the supercomputer-of-all-the-galaxy's mega-intelligence analysis. The earth man was dumbfounded, bewildered--what the heck did that mean?
Life, the universe, and everything...maybe it's not a bad answer, stepping forward for what's right even in the firestorm of prejudice, and for acknowledging the individual to be the person he truly is, worthy of respect and appreciation for his talents, determination, and character.
We have been watching Ken Burns Baseball documentary series on Netflix. We have finally got to the part about Jackie Robinson, which is what I am have been looking forward to. We were watching it last night - Ken Burns made the comment that Jackie's strength of character opened the way for MLK's fight for civil rights.
ReplyDeleteYes, he was visible, capable, and implacable. He had talent and integrity both, and those who watched him or dealt with him or played with him were forced to see that, to see him as a person instead of as an "other." I had not realized that these events had followed so closely on WWII, I though it wasn't until the '50's. You had all these soldiers coming home, where Truman had forced the army to integrate, and they came home to Jim Crow. It was the right time to push--there are pivot points if you can marry the right individuals and social tensions when you can effect real change, but it's never easy.
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