| Branch Rickey, one of the most influential figures in baseball history,
never wrote his autobiography. We have autobiographies from Joe Charboneau,
Bo Belinsky, and Eldon Auker, but nothing from the man who integrated
baseball, created the farm system, and allowed 13 runners to steal while
catching for the New York Highlanders in 1907 (still an American League
record).
But one my favorite
books is one Branch Rickey wrote in the last year of his life, called “The American Diamond.” It
was published in 1965 when he was 83 years old, and he died just before
Christmas that
year.
While “The American Diamond” is not an autobiography, not
even close, it is a loving look backwards and forwards into a game he
knew intimately for more than 60 years. The 9”x12” volume,
subtitled “A Documentary of the Game of Baseball,” is lavishly
illustrated with black and white photography and sensational drawings
by Robert Riger, a celebrated artist known for his work with ABC Sports,
who died in 1995. The book was published by Simon and Schuster and features
a powerful photo of Mickey Mantle swinging on the cover.
The book is an
overview of the sights of the game – the clubhouse,
spring training, the fans, Little League, opening day (with a wonderful
picture of President Kennedy and his scorecard), the greatest players,
Rickey’s all-time team, the origins of baseball, and much more.
For his all-time
team, Rickey includes Shoeless Joe Jackson with Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb
as his outfield. “It will be said here and there
that to include Jackson makes me indifferent to the integrity of the
game. I wish to say a word about that anticipated criticism. Joe Jackson
was blacklisted for cooperative knowledge of a fix. If there is ‘a
wideness in God’s mercy like the wideness of the sea,’ then
there must be a ‘kindness in His justice,’ that permits redemption
to Joe Jackson.”
Riger, in an
introduction, says that Rickey “was determined form
the beginning to write it all himself. With the exception of a few captions
for certain pictures, he did exactly that. In fact, he wrote some articles
many times over, perfecting them in a manner that he thought would do
a person or an idea justice. He rewrote the Ty Cobb piece nine times
and refined the very important ‘Future of the Game’ almost
as many.”
The Future of
the Game section, beginning with a photograph of the Astrodome under
construction, is
fascinating,
37 years later. The opening
paragraphs of the section read: The First Problem: Equalizing the Teams.
Writes Rickey, “Nevertheless, there must be an effort to equalize
the opportunity of all clubs in the leagues in the securing of young
talent….the fact remains that both the American and National Leagues
are not balanced from top to bottom. The Yankee success simply has exaggerated
this imbalance…. There must be legislation to establish equal opportunity
for all clubs in the field of young talent “
Writing about
television, Rickey makes the point that baseball does not fit the television
screen, and “consequently, the televising
of baseball games has become so fragmented that the entire image of the
game has been changed and reduced to a ‘still picture’ or
a series of still pictures, e.g. of pitcher and batter.”
Adds Rickey, “The shape of the home television screen must be
changed in the years to come. The ‘sports screen’ doubtless
will be produced by major television manufacturers on a 2 or 2 ½ to
1 ratio. When the width of the screen is 2 ½ times the height,
then you will view the baseball diamond in its full dimension and the
interaction of its players, and the viewing will be truly exciting.”
There are some
arcane uses of language, even for the Great Emancipator of baseball.
Captioning a
photo of the
veteran Bill White, speaking with
a freckled white rookie in the Cardinals’ clubhouse, Rickey writes “You
would think the white boy is consoling or advising the colored boy. Nothing
of the sort! This picture has a surprising significance – the colored
boy is consoling the white boy! That’s a new day in this game of
baseball!”
While Rickey’s words are so important because of his importance
in baseball history, it is Riger’s photography and artwork that
long made this one of my most favored volumes to return to again and
again.
At the time Rickey wrote this book, he was a consultant for the Cardinals,
and not especially well received there. Like many whose time had past,
he was probably feeling the frustration of loss of power, and used the
book as an exercise to take the high road as an elder statesman of the
game. He accomplished his mission.
He is modest with his Jackie Robinson story, taking no undue credit
and heaping praise on Robinson. One gets the feeling that this was an
intellectual of the highest order who spent a lifetime in baseball trying
to bring his values to the game. Oh, and his ex-employees could tell
you, he knew how to pinch a dime.
A recent Web search found good condition copies of the book available
from between $100 and $160.
Casey Award nominee Marty Appel (for Now
Pitching for the Yankees),
a former Yankee PR Director and television producer, runs Marty Appel
Public Relations and can be reached at info@appelpr.com.
|