We live in Pasadena, California. Across from the city hall is a giant sculpture of two heads – the faces of two brothers who are some of our most illustrious citizens, Jackie and Mac Robinson – Mac, an Olympian, and Jackie, the first African American to break the color barrier in Major League Baseball. With professional sports now dominated by athletes of color, it is hard for those under forty to realize how difficult it was for Robinson to suit up with the Brooklyn Dodgers and how courageous, both for him and for the general manager and president, Branch Rickey, to hire him. We too easily forget as well how transformative this decision by two men, one black and one white, was.
The movie 42, which opened in theaters on April 12th brings this story to life. It focuses in particular on two pivotal years in Robinson’s life – 1945-1947, when Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) married Rachel Nicole Beharie), was hired by Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford) to play in the Dodger’s organization, and then made his major league debut.
Written and directed by Brian Helgeland, the Oscar-winning screenwriter for L.A. Confidential and the dark but moving film Mystic River, 42 entertains while it inspires and instructs, recalling for all Americans both our painful past and those courageous heroes who have helped us partially transcend it. 42, the number of Robinson’s jersey, recounts the story of how the game of baseball became more than a game, the occasion for the color divide that characterized American life in the 1940’s to be dealt a lethal blow. Certainly much more needed to transpire and still needs to transpire with regards to racial equality in the United States, but we also have an African American President! It is probable that this might never have happed if Jackie robinson had not transformed America by transforming baseball.
42 tells the story of the Dodger’s general manager, Branch Rickey, deciding at age 65, when many were retiring, to risk everything by integrating baseball. Rickey’s motives – like all of ours – were mixed. He was a businessman who believed that black players could help his team win and thus make more money; but he also came to believe in fairness and racial justice. And so he signed Robinson to a contract. A four-year letterman at UCLA who was perhaps better at other sports, and arguably not the best player in the Negro League, Robinson was nonetheless Rickey’s choice to integrate the big leagues. Calling Robinson into his office, he told him: “I want a player who’s got the guts not to fight back… Your enemy will be out in force, and you cannot meet him on his own ground.” And Robinson, equal to the task, responded, “You give me the uniform, and you give me a number on my back, and I’ll give you the guts.” And that he did.
But, as the movie wonderfully portrays, courage alone was not enough. Without community, such courage would have been impossible to maintain. Robinson was forced to live separated from his teammates when he played in the South. He had to weather a humiliating petition signed by many of his own teammates protesting his signing, and the racial slurs from fans and even opposing managers would test even the strongest of character.
It was his wife, Rachel’s love and commitment that helped Jackie stay centered, for in their life together, they shared his calling, his commitment. Important as well, was the support of Wendell Smith, an African American baseball writer who was hired by Rickey to help Robinson navigate the game. It is Smith who narrates the movie and gives it much of its life. He also is significant in his own right, the first black journalist admitted to the Baseball Writers’ Association. And then there were those key Dodger teammates who ultimately came to Robinson’s defense – Eddie Stankey who challenged the racial slurs of the Philly’s manager and The Dodger’s star shortstop, Pee Wee Reese, who caused a scandal by walking over to Robinson on the field when he was being racially attacked, and putting his arm around his teammate. What might be thought a small gesture proved as powerful as any grenade. Such community was re-orienting and stabilizing for Robinson.
There was also a third force at work in these events, one that the movie makes explicit along with courage and community – faith. Rickey says at one point in the movie, “I’m a Methodist. God’s a Methodist!” And though we smile, we also understand something of the importance of prayer, Scripture, and the church. In 42, faith goes beyond the covenant that Rickey and Robinson make with each other; it even goes beyond the deep faith that Jackie and Rachel have in each other. Their faith in God lifts them up. As Wendell Smith tells Jackie at one point, just like our savior, you must have guts to turn the other cheek. And because Robinson did, Branch Rickey was transformed, his teammates are transformed, baseball is transformed, and we all are being transformed. 42 tells a gripping story of faith, even if at times it comes near to walking over the line of sentimentality. In so doing, it also asks us through the life of the Robinson’s, the question that the book of James asks its readers, “My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our Lord Jesus Christ?” (James 2:1)
We saw this movie at a studio preview last January 31st. It was Jackie’s birthday. There we met his niece, Rose Robinson, whose father was Mac. While ostensibly a baseball movie, what we actually saw was a story about our common humanity, and the courage, community and faith necessary to embrace it. The movie opened in theaters across America on April 12th, just three days before all major league baseball players one again commemorate Robinson’s singular contribution both to America and to baseball by collectively wearing number 42 – the only day of the season that you will see that “retired” number appear on any jersey – an honor given to no other player in major league history. It was April 15th that Robinson began his ten year major league career. We are all in debt to this American hero.