“Jackie the robber” stole fans’ hearts

In the movie 42, Brooklyn Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey discusses with fellow team executives his plans to sign Jackie Robinson—and, ultimately, integrate baseball.

“Robinson’s a Methodist, I’m a Methodist, God’s a Methodist,” declares Rickey (played by Harrison Ford). “We can’t go wrong.”

The scene underscores an important, if sometimes downplayed, aspect of Robinson’s impact on American history— one worth reexamining as the 75th anniversary of Robinson’s debut in Major League Baseball approaches on April 15: A man of deep religious convictions, Rickey considered it his calling to make the major leagues accessible to black players. He needed a man of exemplary Christian character to help accomplish his goal, one whose on-field excellence would match his unflappable gentility in the face of hate-filled invective—or worse.

Robinson easily met the excellence criterion: In his sole season with the Negro Leagues’ Kansas City Monarchs in 1945, Robinson hit .387 in 47 games. He was also fleet afoot: A track star at UCLA (where he also lettered in football, basketball, and baseball) who might have represented the U.S. in the Olympics had they not been canceled during World War II, he swiped 200 bases and stole home 19 times as a pro.

Still, Rickey had reason to question Robinson’s temperament: Drafted into the Army during WWII and commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant, Robinson encountered racism in the ranks. Unlike many blacks of his era, Robinson wouldn’t shut up and take it. After refusing to move to the back of a bus while on base at Fort Riley, Kan.—and cursing angrily at the bus driver—in 1944, Robinson faced a court-martial. (A nine-judge panel ultimately exonerated him.)

Thus, during their three-hour interview in August 1945, Rickey repeatedly tried to provoke Robinson to anger. Eventually, Robinson cracked, albeit ever so slightly: “Mr. Rickey, do you want a player who’s afraid to fight back?” he asked.

“No,” Rickey responded. “I need a player with guts enough not to fight back.”

Essentially, Rickey wanted Robinson to follow Christ’s teaching about “turning the other cheek.” Robinson would face the worst kind of physical and verbal abuse and discrimination on and off the field. No matter what, though, he couldn’t respond in anger lest baseball’s ruling class unfairly brand him and other African Americans as hotheads and use that as an excuse to keep them out of the game.

Ultimately, Robinson fulfilled Rickey’s expectations: No matter what racially motivated wrongs he endured, Robinson refrained from retaliating—that is, except for making opponents pay on the scoreboard. In the process, he won opposing players’ and fans’ respect en route to a 10-year, Hall of Fame career in the majors.

It helped that a fellow Christian rallied to his cause: Pee Wee Reese, the Dodgers’ shortstop and team captain, first refused to sign a petition opposing Rickey’s decision to promote Robinson from the Dodgers’ minor league affiliate in Montreal in 1947. Reese did so even though Robinson, a fellow shortstop, might challenge him for his job.

Reese later draped his arm around Robinson—who broke in with the Dodgers as a first baseman—before a 1948 game in Cincinnati, a stone’s throw from Reese’s native Kentucky. With this simple gesture, Reese showed a largely white crowd that was overwhelmingly hostile to Robinson that if a Southern boy like Reese could accept Robinson’s presence among them, so could they.

By July 1947, three months after Robinson’s major league debut, other major league teams were following the Dodgers’ lead by signing black players. It took at least a couple of years for some teams to follow suit, but eventually more and more did.

Robinson’s actions also provided the template for the nonviolent protests of the civil rights movement that broke down racial barriers and created greater opportunities for blacks outside of baseball. Martin Luther King Jr. even credited Robinson with paving the way: “Without him, I would never have been able to do what I did,” King said shortly before being assassinated in 1968.

Turns out Rickey, as portrayed in 42, was right: By adhering to the Christian principle of turning the other cheek, he, Robinson, and God could not—and did not—go wrong.