ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, April 16, 1997 TAG: 9704160075
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-1 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
DATELINE: NEW YORK
SOURCE: ASSOCIATED PRESS
Jackie Robinson was far more than the man who desegregated baseball. He was an American hero.
In the years when Jesse Simms was growing up, he would hear the stories about his grandfather, about how Jackie Robinson changed his sport and his country.
Simms threw out the first ball Tuesday night at Shea Stadium as baseball honored his grandfather with tributes far more lavish than those that noted his landmark breakthrough as the man who broke the major leagues' color barrier 50 years ago.
Even on this cool April night, there was a postseason mood about the game, with both the New York Mets and the Los Angeles Dodgers teams introduced and lining up at the foul lines. Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax was among the half-dozen old Brooklyn Dodgers players who were introduced.
On the main scoreboard was a photograph of Robinson in his classic white Brooklyn uniform coming down the third base line, daring a pitcher to do something about it. Next to that was a message: ``He was the handsome, heroic giant of our youth who taught us determination, taught us perseverance and finally, he taught us justice.''
President Clinton, on hand to address the fans later in the game, said most Americans today cannot imagine the importance of Robinson's achievement, coming years before many other parts of society were integrated.
``It was baseball. It was a statement about America,'' Clinton said in an interview on ESPN.
``I hope that all Americans, as we start a new century, ... go back to the lessons of that Dodger team,'' Clinton said.
Rachel Robinson, Jackie's widow, also was to speak during the game.
Simms, wearing tan slacks and a black turtleneck and blazer, tossed the first pitch to Mets catcher Todd Hundley. He shook hands with home plate umpire Eric Gregg, a black, as he came on the field and again when he left.
Robinson died in 1972, seven years before his only daughter, Sharon, gave birth to Simms. And as soon as her son was old enough to understand, Sharon Robinson explained who his grandfather was and what he had done.
When Robinson broke into the majors on April 15, 1947, there was no civil rights movement in America. It was a year before President Truman desegregated the armed services. The Brown vs. Board of Education decision by the Supreme Court was still seven years away. Martin Luther King Jr. was a sophomore at Morehouse College.
It was in that environment that Robinson embarked on his lonely odyssey, one made all the more difficult by his pledge to Dodgers boss Branch Rickey not to answer the fusillade of abuse triggered by his arrival.
``He was the right one to do it,'' said Buck O'Neil, who played with and managed the Negro League Kansas City Monarchs. ``I don't know if others could have done it.''
Joe Black, a genial pitcher who roomed with Robinson, remembered seething on the mound at the insults that still poured down when he was a rookie, five years after Robinson's debut.
``Jackie came in from second base and said `Forget it. Just pitch,''' Black said.
Don Newcombe, another old Dodgers pitcher, said teams were careful about what they said to him.
``I had the baseball and I could throw it doggone hard,'' he said.
Tommy Lasorda, who has spent virtually all of his baseball life in the Dodgers' organization, called the anniversary a fitting tribute.
``But it shouldn't stop with baseball,'' he said. ``Remember the man. Remember his philosophy. Remember how much he meant to this country.''
Black echoed that sentiment.
``Young people should take time to ask who Jackie Robinson was, what he did and what he stood for,'' Black said. ``It's more than being the first guy that played. That alone doesn't mean anything.
``He tried to improve life for everybody. He was always doing things for other people.''
Black bristles when he hears people blame Robinson for the death of the Negro Leagues, at that time the third-largest industry for blacks in this country. The blame, he said, belonged to the Negro Leagues, which did not approach organized baseball to try to be part of baseball's changing landscape.
``They should have said, `Let us be the farm system for black players,''' he said. ``They didn't do it. Don't put that burden on Jackie.''
LENGTH: Medium: 89 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: ASSOCIATED PRESS. Jackie Robinson epitaph on hisby CNBheadstone, which he wrote himself, is a fitting tribute for the
former Dodger great. Robinson's tremendous impact was celebrated
across the major leagues Tuesday. color.