When we consider his baseball accomplishments, let’s not forget that due to the prior disgraceful banning of blacks in major league baseball, he didn’t even start in the majors until he was 28 years old. Imagine if he was signed like some 17 and 18 year olds, where his records would have been? Still, with his hands veritably tied, enduring dangers and inhuman degradations on public fields around the country, he was still the first Rookie of the Year, led the majors in hitting in 1949 and was selected as Most Valuable Player, played and excelled in several positions, revolutionized the game with his electrifying base running and still, incredibly, worked part-time jobs, including selling appliances in a department store, to support his family.

His history also includes being the first athlete at UCLA to win varsity letters in four sports, baseball, basketball, football and track. In 1941 he was named to the All-American football team.

Finally, consider his final words, which he wrote and which appear as his epitaph: “A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.” Unselfish to the end!

For a measure of that span: it’s now 64 years since.

A pretty nasty situation throughout society. And in that context, Branch Rickey’s decision to put an African American on the roster was unbelievably gutsy and heroic. The NBA didn’t admit a black player for another three years, and the Washington Redskins held out until 1962, and even then had to be threatened by the Federal Government, which controlled their stadium lease. So baseball is right to atone for its color barrier, but it should also take pride in having pioneered integration, ahead of almost every other institution in America. I just wish that perspective was included a bit more in commentaries about Jackie Robinson Day.

So there’s good, and there’s bad.