Double Play

17.

Mr. Rickey was wearing a blue polka dot bow tie and a gray tweed suit that didn’t fit him very well. He took some time getting his cigar lit and then looked at Burke over his round black-rimmed glasses.

“Mr. Burke,” Rickey said. “Do you follow baseball?”

“Yes.”

“I’m bringing Jackie Robinson up from Montreal,” Rickey said.

“The other shoe drops,” Burke said.

Mr. Rickey smiled.

“I want you to protect him,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Just like that?” Rickey said.

“I assume you’ll pay me.”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m asking you to protect him from?”

“I assume I know,” Burke said. “People who might want to kill him for being a Negro. And himself.”

Rickey nodded and turned the cigar slowly without taking it from his mouth.

“Good,” he said. “Himself was the part I didn’t think you’d get.”

Burke didn’t say anything.

“Jackie is a man of strong character,” Rickey said. “One might even say forceful. If this experiment is going to work he has to sit on that. He has to remain calm. Turn the other cheek.”

“And I’ll have to see that he does that,” Burke said.

“Yes. And at the same time, see that no one harms him.”

“Am I required to turn the other cheek?”

“You are required to do what is necessary to help Jackie and I and the Brooklyn Dodgers get through the impending storm.”

“Do what I can.”

“My information is that you can do a lot. It’s why you’re here. You’ll stay with him all the time. If anyone asks you, you are simply an assistant to the general manager. If he has to stay in a Negro hotel, you’ll have to stay there too.”

“I got through Guadalcanal,” Burke said.

“Yes, I know. How do you feel about a Negro in the major leagues?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Good. I’ll introduce you to Jackie.”

He pushed the switch on an intercom, and spoke into it, and a moment later a secretary opened the office door and Robinson came in wearing a gray suit and a black knit tie. He moved as if he were working off a steel spring. He’s nobody’s high yellow, Burke thought. He’s dark black. And did not seem furtive about it. Rickey introduced them.

“Well, you got the build for a bodyguard,” Robinson said.

“You too.”

“But, I ain’t guarding your body,” Jackie said.

“Mine’s not worth ten grand a year.”

“One thing,” Robinson said, and he looked at Rickey as he spoke. “I don’t need no keeper. You keep people from shooting me, good. And I know I can’t be fighting people. You gotta do that for me. But I go where I want to go, and do what I do. And I don’t ask you first.”

“As long as you let me die for you,” Burke said.

Something flashed in Robinson’s eyes.

“You got a smart mouth,” he said.

“I’m a smart guy.”

Robinson grinned suddenly.

“So how come you taking on this job?”

“Same as you,” Burke said. “I need the dough.”

Robinson looked at him with his hard stare.

“Well,” Robinson said. “We’ll see.”

Rickey had been sitting quietly. Now he spoke.

“You can’t ever let down,” he said. He was looking at Robinson, but Burke knew he was included. “You’re under a microscope. You can’t drink. You can’t be sexually indiscreet. You can’t have opinions about things. You play hard and clean and stay quiet. Can you do it?”

“With a little luck,” Robinson said.

“Luck is the residue of intention,” Rickey said.

He talked pretty good, Burke thought, for a guy who hit .239 lifetime.