Sunday marks the 60th anniversary of Jack Roosevelt Robinson's Major League Baseball debut. He became the first African-American Major League Baseball player of the modern era in 1947. For those that don't know the story of this man, please take a moment to look over his wikipedia page. It is by no means a complete tale of of "Jackie", but will give you an idea to the tremendous character he had.

http://en.wikipedia.org/w...e_robinson





More than 150 players will don the retired number "42" on Sunday to pay tribute to the legendary hall of famer.

"I'm not concerned with your liking or disliking me... all I ask is that you respect me as a human being."

He played himself in his own movie. I've seen it twice

#42

ThreadCula said:

In 1941, he became the first athlete in the history of UCLA to letter in four sports (baseball, football, basketball and track) in the same year.

Thank God.

a wonderful piece by Hank Aaron:


I was 14 years old when I first saw Jackie Robinson. It was the spring of 1948, the year after Jackie changed my life by breaking baseball's color line. His team, the Brooklyn Dodgers, made a stop in my hometown of Mobile, Ala., while barnstorming its way north to start the season, and while he was there, Jackie spoke to a big crowd of black folks over on Davis Avenue. I think he talked about segregation, but I didn't hear a word that came out of his mouth. Jackie Robinson was such a hero to me that I couldn't do anything but gawk at him.

They say certain people are bigger than life, but Jackie Robinson is the only man I've known who truly was. In 1947 life in America — at least my America, and Jackie's — was segregation. It was two worlds that were afraid of each other. There were separate schools for blacks and whites, separate restaurants, separate hotels, separate drinking fountains and separate baseball leagues. Life was unkind to black people who tried to bring those worlds together. It could be hateful. But Jackie Robinson, God bless him, was bigger than all of that.

Jackie Robinson had to be bigger than life. He had to be bigger than the Brooklyn teammates who got up a petition to keep him off the ball club, bigger than the pitchers who threw at him or the base runners who dug their spikes into his shin, bigger than the bench jockeys who hollered for him to carry their bags and shine their shoes, bigger than the so-called fans who mocked him with mops on their heads and wrote him death threats.

When Branch Rickey first met with Jackie about joining the Dodgers, he told him that for three years he would have to turn the other cheek and silently suffer all the vile things that would come his way. Believe me, it wasn't Jackie's nature to do that. He was a fighter, the proudest and most competitive person I've ever seen. This was a man who, as a lieutenant in the Army, risked a court-martial by refusing to sit in the back of a military bus. But when Rickey read to him from The Life of Christ, Jackie understood the wisdom and the necessity of forbearance.

To this day, I don't know how he withstood the things he did without lashing back. I've been through a lot in my time, and I consider myself to be a patient man, but I know I couldn't have done what Jackie did. I don't think anybody else could have done it. Somehow, though, Jackie had the strength to suppress his instincts, to sacrifice his pride for his people's. It was an incredible act of selflessness that brought the races closer together than ever before and shaped the dreams of an entire generation.

Before Jackie Robinson broke the color line, I wasn't permitted even to think about being a professional baseball player. I once mentioned something to my father about it, and he said, "Ain't no colored ballplayers." There were the Negro Leagues, of course, where the Dodgers discovered Jackie, but my mother, like most, would rather her son be a schoolteacher than a Negro Leaguer. All that changed when Jackie put on No. 42 and started stealing bases in a Brooklyn uniform.

Jackie's character was much more important than his batting average, but it certainly helped that he was a great ballplayer, a .311 career hitter whose trademark was rattling pitchers and fielders with his daring base running. He wasn't the best Negro League talent at the time he was chosen, and baseball wasn't really his best sport — he had been a football and track star at UCLA — but he played the game with a ferocious creativity that gave the country a good idea of what it had been missing all those years. With Jackie in the infield, the Dodgers won six National League pennants.

I believe every black person in America had a piece of those pennants. There's never been another ballplayer who touched people as Jackie did. The only comparable athlete, in my experience, was Joe Louis. The difference was that Louis competed against white men; Jackie competed with them as well. He was taking us over segregation's threshold into a new land whose scenery made every black person stop and stare in reverence. We were all with Jackie. We slid into every base that he swiped, ducked at every fastball that hurtled toward his head. The circulation of the Pittsburgh Courier, the leading black newspaper, increased by 100,000 when it began reporting on him regularly. All over the country, black preachers would call together their congregations just to pray for Jackie and urge them to demonstrate the same forbearance that he did.

Later in his career, when the "Great Experiment" had proved to be successful and other black players had joined him, Jackie allowed his instincts to take over in issues of race. He began striking back and speaking out. And when Jackie Robinson spoke, every black player got the message. He made it clear to us that we weren't playing just for ourselves or for our teams; we were playing for our people. I don't think it's a coincidence that the black players of the late '50s and '60s — me, Roy Campanella, Monte Irvin, Willie Mays, Ernie Banks, Frank Robinson, Bob Gibson and others — dominated the National League. If we played as if we were on a mission, it was because Jackie Robinson had sent us out on one.

Even after he retired in 1956 and was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1962, Jackie continued to chop along the path that was still a long way from being cleared. He campaigned for baseball to hire a black third-base coach, then a black manager. In 1969 he refused an invitation to play in an old-timers' game at Yankee Stadium to protest the lack of progress along those lines.

One of the great players from my generation, Frank Robinson (who was related to Jackie only in spirit), finally became the first black manager, in 1975. Jackie was gone by then. His last public appearance was at the 1972 World Series, where he showed up with white hair, carrying a cane and going blind from diabetes. He died nine days later.

Most of the black players from Jackie's day were at the funeral, but I was appalled by how few of the younger players showed up to pay him tribute. At the time, I was 41 home runs short of Babe Ruth's career record, and when Jackie died, I really felt that it was up to me to keep his dream alive. I was inspired to dedicate my home-run record to the same great cause to which Jackie dedicated his life. I'm still inspired by Jackie Robinson. Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of him.

Hey Chris, did you know he played with your boy Ted Williams on an All-Star team when he was 15?

Before he became a pro ballplayer, he was in the U.S. Army. They court-martialed him for refusing to move to the back of a segregated military bus. He was acquitted and subsequently given an honorable discharge.

Is this like foreplay for you 2?

mdiver said:

Post something about Jackie!

FunkMistress said:

Born: Jan. 31, 1919 in Cairo, GA
Died: Oct. 24, 1972 in Stamford, CT
Years with Dodgers: 1947-56
Inducted into Hall of Fame: 1962

The social impact of Jackie Robinson’s inclusion into Major League Baseball in 1947 resonates as one of the civil rights movement’s most significant triumphs. For Robinson, the first African-American to have the opportunity to participate in the major leagues for the Brooklyn Dodgers, it was all about playing the game. But, he was hand-selected by President Branch Rickey and the Dodger organization (including part-owner and Vice President and General Counsel Walter O’Malley) to cross the precipitous color line. Robinson promised Rickey that he would not fight back, other than with his bat and glove, despite what teammates, competitors, fans, umpires, writers, broadcasters and hotel managers might have said or how they tried to bait him into reacting. Robinson agreed to take on this historic civil rights challenge and was uniquely qualified to succeed. When he crossed the white lines at the ballpark, Robinson tried to relax and focus on the game, not the constant catcalls. Off the field, the former UCLA four-sport star would also deal with Southern bigotry; anonymous death threats; racial slurs; sitting in the back of the bus; “no colored” served or housed here signs; and opponents who were out to injure him. Robinson, however, was bound and determined that he would perform to the highest level. That he did. In his debut season, he was named Rookie of the Year, an award which today bears his name, and he became an immediate drawing card. While some just wanted to observe the only black player in baseball, others were truly enthralled by Robinson’s daring and reckless abandon on the basepaths and in the field. Robinson electrified the ballpark as he stole home 19 times in his illustrious career. In his 10 seasons, Robinson was a six-time N.L. All-Star, he was an integral part of six N.L. Pennant-winning Dodger teams (1947, 1949, 1952, 1953, 1955, 1956) and he won the N.L. batting title in 1949 with a .342 average. He also won the N.L. MVP Award in 1949. The versatile Robinson initially played first base for the Dodgers as a rookie, but then moved to second base for the next five years, shifted to third base and finally to the outfield. Robinson was the first African-American player to be inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1962. When the Dodgers traded an aging Robinson on Dec. 13, 1956 to the New York Giants for Dick Littlefield and $35,000 cash, Robinson balked at playing for any other club, especially the rival Giants, and he vetoed the move by announcing his retirement on Jan. 5, 1957. O’Malley and Robinson maintained cordial relations after his retirement, corresponding with each other on numerous occasions. With Robinson in attendance, the Dodgers retired his No. 42 uniform in on-field ceremonies at Dodger Stadium on June 4, 1972. All of Major League Baseball saluted him in 1997 (on the 50th Anniversary of his breaking the color barrier) and permanently retired his number from the game.
On March 2, 2005, pioneer Robinson was recognized posthumously by receiving the Congressional Gold Medal during ceremonies in the rotunda of the United States Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. President George W. Bush made the presentation to Robinson family members, including Jackie’s wife Rachel, daughter Sharon and grandson David. The U.S. Congress has commissioned gold medals as its highest expression of national appreciation for distinguished achievements and contributions. President Bush said of Robinson, “His electricity was unbelievable. This is a guy who inspired little seven-year-olds to dream of wearing ‘42’ and dashing for home in Brooklyn...his story was powerful then, and it is powerful today.”

African American Registry Page
http://www.aaregistry.com...istory/43/

Jackie Robinson Foundation Page
http://www.jackierobinson.org/

Why Jackie Changed the Face of Sports
http://espn.go.com/sports...16431.html

so are you gonna answer my question now?

mdiver said:

no, she's just as pissed that no one gives a shit about him on this stupid site!

Sorry I have never been a baseball fan...please don't hate me Jersey..please.

Shanti1 said:

You don't have to be; click those links I posted.

jerseykrs said:

hey asswipe i looked him up and learnt....i didnt see you posting on my George Bes t thread.....

FunkMistress said:

I did because you posted them ...though I must say nice job to mdiver for the cut and paste...impressive

Much love and props to Jackie Robinson- I must say I respect the atheletes from back in the day- they were not in it for the $

Shanti1 said:

yeah but i did read it

Can't you assholes learn from Jackie and just get along??

mdiver said:

Hey...don't get so feisty mister..don't make my go to a mod and report your ass...hehehe

I know you read it...

FunkMistress said:

Yay!!


WWJD

talk about cliquey

FunkMistress said:

With HER ?

Shanti1 said:

I thought that was funny and cleaver..though I will get NO credit for my quick wit..figures!!!
[Edited 4/14/07 9:43am]

Shanti1 said:

cleaver?



Does my correcting you make you want me?

mdiver said:

mdiver said:

Shut up you, it was very cleaver, Shanti.

mdiver said:

hehe....



yes your spell check abilities make me hot!!
[Edited 4/14/07 9:54am]