Jackie Robinson, No. 42

I was two years old in 1947 and chances are I was rolling a baseball across the carpet on the living room floor. I didn't know who Jackie Robinson was at the time. I was worried about important things like: when was it time to eat and when could I go out in the backyard and play with my dog, Jack.

I sat back in my theater seat and witnessed the new movie, 42, on Saturday afternoon. I'm 67 now and before I stepped into the hallway of the theater, I already knew of the man who had cut through the racial barrier 66 years ago and transformed, with the help of Branch Rickey, baseball into the game we know today.

A game for all colors, all sizes, all shapes. A game which honors mental toughness along with God-given skills and talent.

Everyone should see 42.

There's one line in the move when Robinson questions Mr. Rickey. The soon to be Rookie of the Year of 1947, asked the owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers, "Why are you doing this?"

Rickey said there was a time, earlier in his life, when he should have done more to begin to bridge the gap of "equality" in baseball. (I'm paraphrasing here).

But the line which really got me was this.

Rickey talked of a little white boy, probably sitting (this is me paraphrasing, again, and adding a little bit of me at the same time) next to his radio, listening and wishing,  he was the black man who had just crushed a home run over the left field fence at Ebbets Field.

I look up at the stars every now and then, and I say thank you to all the old ballplayers I have admired in my 60-something years on this Earth.

Jackie Robinson...number 42, is at the top of my list.