"Dodger Black" by Jim Rojek

Stan Rojek Field on 9th Avenue is namd for NT's only professional ballplayer.

Ebbets Field; Brooklyn, NY; April 1947. A baseball game between the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants.

Jackie Robinson, first black man in major league baseball, steps up to the plate. His forehead beads sweat as the spotlight blinds his entrance. 30,000 fans hurl racial slurs at the former Army officer that would make Hitler quake. Robinson, a chiseled and poised athlete, shakes the dirt from his spikes and waits for the pitch. Fastball, high and tight! Robby lashes it to left for a single and rambles to first base. Stationed at first he ducks a cup of beer thrown from the fans. His facial muscles tense as he studies the pitcher’s front foot–oblivious to the combat around him. The slurs rise to a crescendo as the pitcher releases. Bang! Robby sprints to second and lands in a cloud of dust. The Giant shortstop mutters, “Hey n….r, you think you’re good, huh?” Robby refocuses on the pitcher’s body movements–searching for the slightest cue. The next pitch is a hanging curveball that Gil Hodges laces to center field. The centerfielder throws a one-hop beauty to home as Robby collides with the catcher. “Safe,” calls the ump! He runs to the Dodger dugout greeted by cheers from Dodger faithful. Pee Wee Reese the All-star shortstop pats him on the back and says, “You got it kiddo….”

In the stands high above the diamond sits Dodger GM Branch Rickey. The cigar smoking man who opened the door to Jackie’s sojourn in the “bigs.” A visionary and man of deep faith, Rickey foresaw the day when prison gates would blow open for minorities,. And he possessed the foresight to know that Jackie Robinson embodied the character and talent to achieve success. Robby was his man and Rickey made him promise to let his bat do the talking. At least for one year–then he could fight back.

To say it was a risky experiment was true; to know it would be life threatening was reality. Robinson endured death threats; insults from teammates; bean-ball incidents; and a gauntlet of emotional trials that first year–but he never reacted with a single word. Jackie told a reporter “It’s easier hitting a 90 mph fastball than a volley of slander.” He excelled at baseball like he did in the Army Officer Corp. A silent mouth and big stick launched him to the mountain of baseball glory. In 1947 Jackie played in 151 games, batted .297, and stole 29 bases. Brooklyn fans and National league players noticed the new kid in town possessed fire, nerve and class.

Stan Rojek, back-up infielder for the “47’ Dodgers, observed a spitting incident with Robby and a teammate. Rojek said, “The southern players on the Dodgers harassed Jackie from spring training on. One of the angriest spat in Jackie’s face during practice and Jackie marched up to his face and stared a hole through him. You have to realize Jackie was built like an ox and could’ve split him like plywood, but he never said a word. That quiet strength amazed me the most about him!

The irony here is that Stan Rojek was from No. Tonawanda, NY and he modeled that strong silence throughout his life. Whether is was playing baseball or working at the bowling alley, he never bragged about his fame. And he became my godfather and uncle 7 years later.

Uncle Stan was nicknamed the rabbit for his quick feet and cannonball arm. My father Tony Rojek watched him play a game in Pittsburgh in 1948. He said, “I heard a loud smack and Stan had the ball in his mitt. The ball was hit so hard I never saw it, but Stan tossed it around the infield like a feather.” If Stan was a backup infielder Robinson must have been awesome.

When Stan was a young player Branch Rickey told him that jealous people would insult him; groupies would bring him down; and prejudice killed. After observing Robinson’s character he was traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1948. While there he batted .298 and tied a record for double plays in a game with 5. He also finished 10th in MVP voting. But his attitude taught him to never judge a man by his color; only by the color of his heart.

What did the smell of horsehide and leather evoke in a black man in 1947? Was it a hangman’s rope, a sheriff’s bullwhip, or a sharecropper’s plow? Maybe it’s not the common version of ballpark dogs and Genny beer. That’s what Stan Rojek must’ve pondered that cool spring night in 1947–when Jackie Robinson took the field. The Dodgers didn’t win the World Series that year; no they didn’t beat the Yankees until 1955–the year they moved to Los Angeles. My Uncle Stan passed away in 1997, 50 years from that famous year–possessing the same quiet strength that Jackie Robinson displayed in his life. And not to react with hatred to those who might hate him.

Jackie Robinson’s life went on in a positive way after he retired from baseball in 1956. Martin Luther King and he were the avant garde of the civil rights movement in America. That ushered in the right to vote and non-segregation in the United States. Branch Rickey was raptured to be with the Lord he loved in 1965. Jackie departed this life at the tender age of 53 in 1972. Today baseball is alive and the haunting memory of Jackie Robinson still echoes on Flatbush avenue in Brooklyn.

…and where every kid laces up a pair of baseball spikes.

Credit: Courtesy of Jim Rojek, nephew of Stan Rojek

Photo:  Courtesy of Museum Volunteer Betty Brandon