They’ll hold a fit and proper celebration Sunday in Chavez Ravine. The Dodgers that once belonged to Brooklyn marked the 60th anniversary of Jack Roosevelt Robinson’s historic entry into the major leagues.
More than any athlete in our annals, Jackie is a genuine American hero. His courage in 1947 and beyond, standing up to this nation’s terrible curse of racism with dignity and an immeasurable resolve, paved the way for the civil rights movement and opportunity in a way not even he could have imagined.
Look at things now. We have Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith on the sidelines, coaching in the Super Bowl against each other. We have Oprah, using her vast wealth and cultural influence to do good deeds, like building schools in South Africa. We have Barack Obama running for the nation’s highest office – and he’s actually got a chance.
None of that was imaginable when Jackie ran out to first base at Ebbets Field on April 15, 1947. Yet for all the milestones and progress, the shadows of our past keep emerging, almost to remind us that the work is far from finished.
Two weeks ago, in Cleveland, Rutgers made a bid for the NCAA women’s basketball championship, only to be denied by Tennessee. It was a wonderful story, a young group of upstarts led by a wise hand (Hall of Fame coach C. Vivian Stringer) that went farther than anyone could have imagined.
The next morning, Don Imus – you know what he said. No need to repeat that filth in this reputable place.
Something strange happened, though. Imus was suspended two weeks, yet allowed to keep his radio/TV gigs. Apparently, justifiable outrage doesn’t go as far as it used to in this so-called enlightened land of ours.
Flash back 20 years, to 1987. To mark the 40th anniversary of Jackie’s breakthrough, Dodger executive Al Campanis, who was present for much of that history, was a guest on “Nightline”.
When Ted Koppel asked why blacks at the time didn’t have more representation in the baseball corridors of power- managers, GM’s, owners-Campanis said blacks didn’t have the “necessities” to hold those posts, and didn’t back off even when Koppel found those marks to be ridiculous. Al Campanis was no racist-his entire track record in the Dodger organization proved that. Still, he was fired the next day, and never worked in baseball again.
More importantly, the controversy forced Major League Baseball to step up its efforts to get minorities in places of power. Those bad words had a good result, as the success of Frank Robinson, Cito Gaston, Ozzie Guillen, Ken Williams, Omar Minaya, Willie Randolph and others showed.
So if the words of Campanis were dumb and unacceptable to a lucrative business enterprise like the Dodgers 20 years ago, how in the heck is the coarse and inexcusable rants of one Don Imus acceptable to us now?
Aside from leaning on the First Amendment and free speech as their lines of defense, the Imus backers say that the same words, when uttered by black comedians and/or rap stars, would not yield the same kind of firestorm.
That might be true, but it completely misses the point. Many African-Americans believe those words are terrible when uttered by anyone, black or white, and would much rather see their race represented in a better and more dignified way. Hearing those words from an uninformed (or downright ignorant) white person only adds to the grief and misunderstanding.
What’s even more disturbing about the Imus wrist slap is the way other organizations have handled similar controversies in recent months.
In Albany, basketball coach Micheal Ray Richardson got canned for making anti-Semitic remarks. One-time NBA star Tim Hardaway ranted against gays on a radio show in Miami and saw all his ties to the league cut off. ESPN let go of Michael Irvin, not long after he made some questionable racial remarks.
The common thread here? All three of them are black, and all three of their employers had no trouble (and got little grief) for throwing them aside. There’s a real chance that Don Imus, the white guy, might get away with it. It’s a great country, isn’t it?
Lord, do we need Jackie Robinson now. It’s one of the terrible ironies of our history that a long string of African – American pioneers-Jackie, Dr. King, Malcom X, Arthur Ashe – left us far before their time, silenced either by their own frail bodies, or the cruelty of bullets.
Their lives teach us plenty, but imagine their collective presence in this turbulent age. We’d likely find that racism, both overt and covert, would slide further into the dark recesses of history, where it belongs.
Which makes this an appropriate time to bring up Eddie Robinson, the legendary Grambling coach that just passed away. As said in many different spaces, his impact on thousands of lives is profound well beyond our means to express it.
Just think about it. Two proud black men named Robinson, born in the same year (1919) in the same rural and segregated South, who rose from their impoverished roots to enrich our culture.
We owe them so much. At the very least, we owe them a vigilant desire to fight – and conquer – the racism still embedded in our culture.
