This will be of interest to only a few folks and, given that it is more than two paragraphs long, to only a very few folks. My son asked me, some time ago, to start writing down what he called "your stories" so that he would have them on paper following what he appears to think will be my imminent death. I am not imminently dying and, at 66, even played 3-on-3 half-court (purest form of basketball) for nearly two hours this afternoon. I think he thinks it will ward off the dementia he claims is quickly taking over my cerebral cortex---it's not, but he has power of attorney and maybe he's hoping to make a quick claim---if I remember various experiences in a life that has been filled with athletics and focus on writing them down. This is not so much a remembrance as a post that quickly came together for me today when I heard of the death of Ralph Branca. If interested, enjoy. If not, move on. There are much better and more interesting writers on this site than me.
Ralph Branca died today in a quiet nursing facility in a quiet neighborhood in Rye, New York. He was 93.
As baseball careers are typically measured, his was rather pedestrian. Pitching for the Brooklyn Dodgers at old Ebbets Field---and later for a brief time with the Detroit Tigers---Branca's stats were not remarkable. He was 88-68 for his career. Maybe it was playing at Ebbets Field. Maybe it was wearing #13. Who knows?
And, given that for which he is most remembered, his record doesn’t much matter, anyway.
Ralph Branca’s legacy rests upon the fact that he was the Dodgers’ pitcher who gave up "the shot heard 'round the world"---Bobby Thomson's legendary home run at the Polo Grounds that gave the National League pennant to the hated Giants. The Dodgers led 4-2 in the bottom of the ninth when Thomson became part of baseball lore by hitting a three-run shot into the left-field stands and vaulting the Giants into the World Series. It also condemned Branca to the darker realms of baseball lore as the guy who gave up that three-run shot. The date was October 3, 1951.
But Ralph Branca deserves better than to be remembered for giving up Thomson's historic belt.
As Jackie Robinson moved toward playing his first game in the major leagues---with the Dodgers---animosity grew in Brooklyn, across the entire city of New York and across the country per the idea of a black man playing in what had always been a white man's league. The hostility extended even into the Dodger clubhouse and dugout, with threatening notes being left in Robinson's locker, etc.
Two men played huge but unnoticed roles in changing all of that. They were both white. They both played for the Dodgers.
One was Pee Wee Reese, the Dodger shortstop who would later become Dizzie Dean's beloved sidekick on baseball's Game of the Week, which I watched as a boy every Saturday afternoon in the summer. I remember watching on our old black-and-white television with accompanying rabbit ears while lying shirtless on hardwood floors---those hardwood floors were a patch of coolness during hot Columbia summers.
The other was Ralph Branca.
Before Jackie's first game, the tension could be cut with a butter knife in the Dodger clubhouse. Out in the stadium, fans were armed with apples, tomatoes, you name it, to throw at Jackie when he took the field. Threats had been made. Hate and the trouble that goes with it were in the air.
Before the game, however, Ralph Branca and Pee Wee Reese stood on chairs in the Dodger clubhouse and shelled it down to their teammates. With Robinson sitting in his locker, Branca and Pee Wee preached what amounted to a sermon about what it means to be a team and what it means to be a teammate---the memory of their words spoken in that setting can still bring a lump to one’s throat.
They talked about the fact that they had never heard the world "color" mentioned in relation to being a team, playing as a team, loving and trusting your teammates. And, before they were done, half the team was in tears.
During that first game, Branca and Pee Wee stood or sat beside Jackie Robinson whenever they were all in the dugout. It was a symbol not lost on teammates and not lost on fans. And, for me, a baseball fan, football fan, basketball fan, any-sport fan who still believes in the meaning of team and the meaning of teammates, it remains, 65 years later, a symbol---a Mighty Symbol---the meaning of which I hope we never lose.
Ralph Branca's brother was later asked if he had been worried about his brother standing so close to Jackie during that first game. "After all," said the reporter, "there were people threatening to shoot him from the stands and, if they missed, you lose a brother."
Branca's brother said he had asked Ralph about it.
"What did he say?" the reporter asked.
Branca's brother said, "He said that, if they missed and killed him, he would have at least died a hero."
When one thinks about it, a hero is simply a guy or a gal who finds himself/herself in the right place at the right time and does the right thing.
Does. The. Right. Thing.
Ralph Branca died today. What they will write about in the papers, what they will talk about on the sports shows, of course, is the fact that he gave up that home run to Bobby Thomson. Fair enough.
But they need to end with the story of Ralph Branca standing next to Jackie Robinson in that long-forgotten dugout, just "doing the right thing” and, in the process, becoming a hero.
The Dodgers long ago moved to Los Angeles. The Giants to San Francisco.
Ask youngsters about Ebbets Field or the Polo Grounds and they look at you like you didn't take your dementia meds that morning.
They need to read the real stories about baseball in those days---the stories written by guys like Red Barber---guys who loved baseball and everything about it.
And they need to read about Bobby Thomson. And Jackie Robinson. And Pee Wee Reese. And Ralph Branca, now gone from us.
Maybe they'll learn to love baseball the way a lot of we old guys do. And everything about it.
RIP Ralph Branca: We will always remember you as an old baller who did "the right thing,” and, in the process, did your part in forever changing baseball for the better.
Ralph Branca died today in a quiet nursing facility in a quiet neighborhood in Rye, New York. He was 93.
As baseball careers are typically measured, his was rather pedestrian. Pitching for the Brooklyn Dodgers at old Ebbets Field---and later for a brief time with the Detroit Tigers---Branca's stats were not remarkable. He was 88-68 for his career. Maybe it was playing at Ebbets Field. Maybe it was wearing #13. Who knows?
And, given that for which he is most remembered, his record doesn’t much matter, anyway.
Ralph Branca’s legacy rests upon the fact that he was the Dodgers’ pitcher who gave up "the shot heard 'round the world"---Bobby Thomson's legendary home run at the Polo Grounds that gave the National League pennant to the hated Giants. The Dodgers led 4-2 in the bottom of the ninth when Thomson became part of baseball lore by hitting a three-run shot into the left-field stands and vaulting the Giants into the World Series. It also condemned Branca to the darker realms of baseball lore as the guy who gave up that three-run shot. The date was October 3, 1951.
But Ralph Branca deserves better than to be remembered for giving up Thomson's historic belt.
As Jackie Robinson moved toward playing his first game in the major leagues---with the Dodgers---animosity grew in Brooklyn, across the entire city of New York and across the country per the idea of a black man playing in what had always been a white man's league. The hostility extended even into the Dodger clubhouse and dugout, with threatening notes being left in Robinson's locker, etc.
Two men played huge but unnoticed roles in changing all of that. They were both white. They both played for the Dodgers.
One was Pee Wee Reese, the Dodger shortstop who would later become Dizzie Dean's beloved sidekick on baseball's Game of the Week, which I watched as a boy every Saturday afternoon in the summer. I remember watching on our old black-and-white television with accompanying rabbit ears while lying shirtless on hardwood floors---those hardwood floors were a patch of coolness during hot Columbia summers.
The other was Ralph Branca.
Before Jackie's first game, the tension could be cut with a butter knife in the Dodger clubhouse. Out in the stadium, fans were armed with apples, tomatoes, you name it, to throw at Jackie when he took the field. Threats had been made. Hate and the trouble that goes with it were in the air.
Before the game, however, Ralph Branca and Pee Wee Reese stood on chairs in the Dodger clubhouse and shelled it down to their teammates. With Robinson sitting in his locker, Branca and Pee Wee preached what amounted to a sermon about what it means to be a team and what it means to be a teammate---the memory of their words spoken in that setting can still bring a lump to one’s throat.
They talked about the fact that they had never heard the world "color" mentioned in relation to being a team, playing as a team, loving and trusting your teammates. And, before they were done, half the team was in tears.
During that first game, Branca and Pee Wee stood or sat beside Jackie Robinson whenever they were all in the dugout. It was a symbol not lost on teammates and not lost on fans. And, for me, a baseball fan, football fan, basketball fan, any-sport fan who still believes in the meaning of team and the meaning of teammates, it remains, 65 years later, a symbol---a Mighty Symbol---the meaning of which I hope we never lose.
Ralph Branca's brother was later asked if he had been worried about his brother standing so close to Jackie during that first game. "After all," said the reporter, "there were people threatening to shoot him from the stands and, if they missed, you lose a brother."
Branca's brother said he had asked Ralph about it.
"What did he say?" the reporter asked.
Branca's brother said, "He said that, if they missed and killed him, he would have at least died a hero."
When one thinks about it, a hero is simply a guy or a gal who finds himself/herself in the right place at the right time and does the right thing.
Does. The. Right. Thing.
Ralph Branca died today. What they will write about in the papers, what they will talk about on the sports shows, of course, is the fact that he gave up that home run to Bobby Thomson. Fair enough.
But they need to end with the story of Ralph Branca standing next to Jackie Robinson in that long-forgotten dugout, just "doing the right thing” and, in the process, becoming a hero.
The Dodgers long ago moved to Los Angeles. The Giants to San Francisco.
Ask youngsters about Ebbets Field or the Polo Grounds and they look at you like you didn't take your dementia meds that morning.
They need to read the real stories about baseball in those days---the stories written by guys like Red Barber---guys who loved baseball and everything about it.
And they need to read about Bobby Thomson. And Jackie Robinson. And Pee Wee Reese. And Ralph Branca, now gone from us.
Maybe they'll learn to love baseball the way a lot of we old guys do. And everything about it.
RIP Ralph Branca: We will always remember you as an old baller who did "the right thing,” and, in the process, did your part in forever changing baseball for the better.
