In the 1992 classic ""Glengarry Glen Ross,"" Alec Baldwin's character informed three beleaguered real estate salesmen that first place in the company's sales competition received a Cadillac. ""You want to know what second place is?"" Baldwin asked. ""Second place is a set of steak knives. Third place is you're fired.""
Even though serrated utensils are better than pink slips, a set of steak knives is not a Cadillac by any stretch of the imagination.
Everyone remembers Neil Armstrong taking a large step for mankind in July of 1969, but few remember Buzz Aldrin getting shafted. Hydrogen gets all the credit for being the most abundant element in the universe, but few discuss the ubiquitous nature of Helium.
Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier 60 years ago this past Sunday and his achievement is not to be belittled. Armed with thick skin and a set of unbelievable baseball talents, Robinson broke into the majors with a bang, winning Rookie of the Year, beating out Cy Young candidate Larry Jansen and picked up an MVP trophy just two seasons later.
Robinson broke in with the Brooklyn Dodgers, a city designed perfectly for his journey. Filled with immigrants of several different backgrounds, the diversity proved an ideal and as accepting as possible environment in the tumultuously segregated late '40s.
But halfway across the country, just 11 weeks after Robinson's debut, the 24-year old Larry Doby broke in with the Cleveland Indians. While Jackie Robinson endured the onslaught of racial taunts and unfair criticism in the National League, Doby was the center attention for a whole new racist fan base in the American League.
And while Robinson's immediate on-field success paved the way for Doby, Cal Fussman, author of ""After Jackie,"" makes the point that ""what we don't think of is what would have happened if Jackie had failed."" Doby didn't have the same success. In fact, in his first season, he only had 32 at-bats and collected only five hits that, most likely, in the minds of bigoted fans, justified their cruel taunts.
But Doby fired back, hitting .301 the next season. He would go on to make seven all-star teams, finish second to Yogi Berra in the 1954 MVP vote, and lead the league in multiple categories, including homeruns twice ('52 and '54), RBIs ('54) and on-base percentage ('50). Doby would retire in 1959 and was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1998, just five years before he passed away.
But before Doby passed, he managed to notch another second. In 1978, Bill Veeck, who signed him with the Indians, thought Doby would make the perfect leader for his Chicago White Sox ball club, naming him manager. His old club, the Indians, had hired Frank Robinson in 1975, making Doby the second African American baseball manager ever.
What Jackie Robinson was able to accomplish is not to be questioned or in any way critiqued. But what Larry Eugene Doby had to endure was virtually as harsh and brutal. His career, a .283 hitter with just over 1,500 hits, wasn't what Robinson's was, nor did he play with one team as Robinson did, being traded to Chicago in 1955. But his accomplishments should never be questioned, having to live up to Robinson's production in Ebbets Field.
Jackie Robinson's No. 42 is retired in every ballpark. I was at Shea Stadium when wife Rachel and then-President Bill Clinton helped to lay the number to rest in 1997, and Robinson deserves it. The combination of his bravery and immediate success are unparalleled in the sports' history.
But Doby's 14 hangs high in Jacobs Field too. Let's not let the celebration of Robinson's courage blind us from that of Doby's.
Want to talk further about Larry Doby and other players that helped pave the way in their respective sports? Then e-mail Sam at sepepper@wisc.edu.
