42 by Aaron Rosenberg Read Free Book Online Page A

fought off his first-day jitters — his gaze was clear and sharp. Just seeing him there made her feel better. She stood and watched, one hand unconsciously grazing her belly, as he settled down and lifted the bat to his shoulder.
    The pitcher peered over one shoulder at the Montreal runner on first, then over the other at the one on second. Then he turned his eyes back toward home plate. He tensed, his whole body coiled like a spring. And just as quickly, he unleashed all his energy, hurling the ball forward like a shot from a cannon. It was a high fastball — and Jackie caught it dead-on with a massive
CRACK!
The ball sailed across left field, out over the stands, before finally slamming into the scoreboard and bouncing away.
    â€œOh, Jack!” Rachel said softly, clapping her hands together. And she wasn’t the only one. All around her, people were cheering and shouting and clapping as Jackie trotted around the bases. He wasn’t in any hurry, especially with his two teammates making their way ahead of him. Both of them turned and waited for him once they’d crossed home plate, and shook his hand as he joined them. Rachel could see Jackie was beaming, and so was she. If ever there had been any doubts that this was the right place for him to be, they were gone now, erased like they had never existed. This was where he belonged, out on this field with these players — these white players, and maybe someday other black players, too.
    â€œOh, Jack!” Rachel said again as she turned back toward the tunnel. She started down it, trying to figure out how to best make her way down to her husband. He was going to be in a good mood — one she hoped would continue when he found out that a few months from now their lives might be changing again.

    Rachel cried out from the delivery room of Huntington Memorial Hospital. It was November 18, and they had come back to Pasadena for their baby to be born — Jackie had declared that if California had been good enough for him and for her, it was good enough for their child. Labor pains stabbed through her abdomen, but soon enough they had passed, and she found the doctor offering her a wriggling little bundle, all scrunched-up face and wide, wailing mouth.
    â€œCongratulations,” he told her happily. “It’s a boy!”
    Rachel held out her arms for her son, exhausted and happy.
    That night, Jackie stood outside the maternity ward, looking in at his son. Jack Robinson Jr. lay nestled in his bassinet, swaddled carefully, his eyes closed in blissful, untroubled sleep. He was beautiful.
    Jackie leaned against the glass and stared. He hadn’t known many babies, but he couldn’t imagine any of them being more perfect. He still remembered when Rachel had told him she was pregnant, right after that big hit in the game against Jersey City. He’d been on top of the world already, but finding out he was going to be a father? That had sent him truly soaring.
    He was nervous, of course. It was a big responsibility. But Jackie knew one thing for certain: He was ready for it.
    â€œMy daddy left,” he said softly, as if Jackie Junior could hear him. “He left us flat in Cairo, Georgia. I was only six months older than you are now. I don’t remember him. Nothing good, nothing bad. Nothing.” He spread his hand wide and pressed it against the glass. “But you’re going to remember me,” he promised his newborn son. “And I am going to be with you until the day I die.”
    Standing there, he remembered what Mr. Rickey had said to him, that first day in his office. “A man needs a family relying on him. It ensures he’ll behave responsibly.” Jackie finally understood that. Because from now on, he knew everything he did would be to make his little boy proud. He hoped he could live up to that. He was definitely going to give it his absolute best shot.

T wo months into the new year, on February 5,