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Jackie Robinson Explains Free Markets

4/29/2013

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I look forward to being about to spend a couple of hours watching the new Jackie Robinson bio-pic, 42.  I’m a baseball fan and have been since my dad introduced me to the game as youngster. My earliest memories of my dad are playing catch, watching the Game of the Week, and Pride of the Yankees, the story of Lou Gehrig.

Jackie Robinson’s story has been told in books, films, and even a Broadway play. This is because it is such an important and compelling story of moving our still great nation forward. But, one thing I have noticed is that there is one aspect to the story that is almost completely untold.  Social justice was not the only reason behind Branch Richey’s push to integrate Major League Baseball.

The two main players in this story, Jackie Robinson, who was a great baseball player, great man, and the exact right person for the job in 1947, and Branch Richey who had seen and disliked the Jim Crow south (and discrimination in the north) while playing or managing both football and baseball; focused baseball and our nation on racism when #42 debuted at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers on April 15, 1947. Attendance soared at Ebbets Field and when the Dodgers visited other cities. That should not be ignored.

Jackie, as both he and Richey anticipated was subjected to harsh treatment by fans, opposing players, opposing managers, and even his own teammates. I can’t possibly do justice in describing that, and also keep this blog reasonable in length. So, apologetically, I’m not going to try.

Branch Ritchey was an astute baseball man. He created, quite literally, the modern farm system by buying existing minor league teams and turning them into teaching stops for players he acquired. He introduced statistical analysis, the batting helmet, and the batting cage (among other things) to the Dodgers, and by the fact of the Dodgers’ success their use spread throughout baseball.

The word success in that last sentence is my belated point. Jackie Robinson played 10 years with Brooklyn. In those ten years the Dodgers took the National League pennant six times, finished second three others, and won the World Series in 1955. Branch Richey was interested in success and he knew that the black players languishing in the mismanaged Negro Leagues would be a great enhancement. The first team to sign a black player would have a leg up on signing the best of those players.

The principle that the free market rewards decisions that result in a desirable outcome (winning games or making money) was directly at play in the decision to sign Jackie Robinson.  Building a winning team was most definitely a reason why Richey took the heat, he knew he would, by being the first to play a black man in majors.

Rewarding winning, or making money is not an evil or even a bad thing for society.  The creature comforts that you take for granted are a direct result of the free market rewarding someone with money for producing a good or service that was desired by the general public. Thomas Edison did not invent the light bulb to free the world from darkness. That was just a secondary (and very large) benefit. He did it to make money. 


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Baseball is Magic

5/6/2012

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I genuinely pity those who don’t ‘get’ baseball. It is so much more than just a game with a ball. I have friends who both understand what I am talking about and those that think baseball is only marginally more interesting that watching paint dry. It is hard to reach those who don’t get it. But, baseball is magic.

I, like so many, was introduced to baseball by my father. It is only recently that I began to wonder who introduced him. My grandfather died in a mine accident in 1935. My dad was born in 1933. The only hint I have is when I was young I once asked him if he had ever watched Babe Ruth play. That question should give you an idea of how young I was. The Babe played his last game in 1935. The first pro game wasn’t televised until 1939, and I doubt my Dad’s family even had a TV until the 1950s. But, he ignored all of that and just answered.

“No, but you should ask your Uncle Johnny”

Uncle Johnny was Dad’s older brother. I never did ask. But, someone must have shown him how to handle a bat and glove, so he could teach me. Magic, maybe?

My fondest memories of my time in Georgia, when I was between the ages of 5 -10, was of my dad and baseball. I would drag him out to the back yard each day after work, even before dinner, and we would play catch or he would drill me on grounders and fly balls. “Use two hands” and “Get down on it” were frequent pieces of advice. Or were those the incantations of a conjuror? 

I collected baseball cards and I asked him to try and name a team that I didn’t have a representative player. He went through probably every team and of course I had at least one card with a player with that team. Probably tiring of the game he said “St. Louis Browns” I had never heard of the St Louis Browns. But, soon I had a library book about Dizzy Dean, who played one game for the perennial losers in 1947, after a Hall of Fame career with the Cardinals. I learned all about Dizzy and The Gashouse Gang, and who the Browns were. It kindled a desire to learn the history of baseball and another reason to read. Magic. (The Browns moved to Baltimore in 1954 and became the Orioles.)

Little League Baseball was a magical rite of passage. If your Dad did not pound the basics of teamwork and fundamentals into you, your Little League coach did. Playing with a group of 15 other boys, all pulling for a common goal, taught me life lessons that are still pertinent today. Things like your role on a team, backing each other up, winning gracefully, losing with dignity, and realizing there is there is always someone better, so you had better work hard. Teaching these lessons to a pre-teen? Magic.

Baseball’s magic reveals itself even with it’s season. Baseball wakes you up with the spring. It let’s you ignore it, like your loyal dog, during the summer. Then it welcomes you home in the fall when things on the diamond begin to heat up. It dies just in time for the holidays. Then greets you again when the grass greens, asking you to believe that this is the year. Baseball is both eternal and finite. Magic

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