A Day in the Life
“I read the news today, oh, boy.
About a lucky man who made the grade.”
- from a Lennon-McCartney classic
Last Saturday, I picked up to read Arnold Rampersad’s biography on the late Jackie Robinson (the writer was chosen by Robinson’s wife Rachel to tell his story) not by design but purely on happenstance. A few days before that, I found the massive hardbound book in a bargain bin for seventy bucks. As someone who was weaned on baseball before the funnies and who played the game in dusty-fields next to the boxcars, it was an opportunity to revisit the passion of my youth and an unvisited part of cultural and sports history.
Robinson was the Brooklyn Dodger’s second baseman who cracked the color barrier in baseball in 1947. He wasn’t just some token African American on Branch Rickey’s team. He was a six-time All-Star who helped Brooklyn to six appearances in the World Series winning the 1955 Fall Classic over the New York Yankees. He was Major League Baseball’s first ever Rookie of the Year until the award was split in 1949 for one player to be chosen in the American and National Leagues.
When he was called up to the majors, Rickey challenged an incredulous Robinson to turn the other cheek against the inevitable supercilious treatment that would hound him in the majors. “Are you looking for a Negro who is afraid to fight back?” was Robinson’s contentious reply. Channeling Mahatma Ghandi, Rickey, in his famous reply, said, “I am looking for a Negro with the guts not to fight back.”
Robinson agreed to follow Rickey but soon after he retired, he became even more outspoken about segregation and he cast his lot with the civil rights movement. But he was also fearful that it would eventually affect his chances of making the Baseball Hall of Fame. Yet because of his contributions to the game, he made it to Cooperstown and was inducted on July 23,1962.
In a different time Jackie Robinson made it on merit and merit, as Rampersad argued, should be colorblind.
Forty-eight years later, Scottie Pippen was inducted to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. I nearly forgot that the induction program was being televised live that Saturday morning. I quickly put down my book and switched on the telly in the nick of time to catch Pippen being the first one inducted at Symphony Hall. As he spoke, my mind raced back to those days when he ran the floor with aplomb and made house calls like Julius Erving. And the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life” somehow was playing in the back of my mind.
I know of his recent financial struggles and as a fan of Scottie Pippen, it was a relief to know that he wasn’t in the same boat as Antoine Walker who made millions but squandered everything.
In a time when athletes of African heritage were superstars in every sport the world over, Pippen could have squandered more than his wealth.
He could have been forever a Jordannaire. Or worse, a talented player with a history of meltdowns and flameouts. And there were quite possibly two moments that could have defined his career.
In Game 7 of the 1990 NBA Eastern Conference Finals between the Chicago Bulls and Detroit Pistons, Pippen played poorly as he suffered from a migraine headache leaving Michael Jordan to hold the fort in a damning 93-74 loss. Quite a few basketball observers and fans wondered if it was more a question of guts.
Then in the 1994 Eastern semis against the New York Knicks, he sat down with 1.8 seconds left in the game, when Bulls head coach Phil Jackson drew the final play for rookie Toni Kukoc who was to take the last shot. Kukoc went on to hit the game winner and Pippen was vilified everywhere as the selfish teammate. Bulls teammate Bill Cartwright, the team’s voice of reason, pinned Pippen to the wall inside the locker room and angrily asked the team captain, “How could you let us down?”
It was nearly the perfect season for Pippen, he was the All-Star Game MVP that year and he led the Bulls in nearly every statistical category. And he had them competing for a championship were it not for a controversial call in Game 5 that gave the Knicks an advantage.
Again, pundits said that Pippen would never live it down.
But he did with his succeeding play, championships, Olympic glory, accolades, and his coming back to the Bulls organization.
“I read the news today, oh, boy.
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire.
And though the holes were rather small.
They had to count them all
And now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.”
Five years after Jackie Robinson played his last game for the Dodgers on October 10, 1956, he was voted – in his first year of eligibility – to Cooperstown garnering slightly more than the required 75% of the votes. The number “42” that he wore has been retired league wide. And there is one last player wearing that number (the Yankees’ great Mariano Rivera) who will most certainly be enshrined in Cooperstown as soon as he becomes available.
Five years after he last played an NBA game, Pippen also made to Springfield, Massachusetts, home of the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. His number “33” is just one of the four numbers retired by the Chicago Bulls with the others being Bob Love, Jerry Sloan, and Jordan.
If Michael Jordan got one last word in against his basketball foes, Pip was quite the opposite. Maybe he is a man humbled and humility is always good. He thanked Jordan who presented him, Jackson, the Bulls’ organization, his parents and family, high school and college coaches, teammates, friends, and his wife and children.
“It has been a great ride.” summed up Pippen as he paused to collect himself then thanking God and everyone one last time.
And as Jackie Robinson said on July 23, 1962, “Now everything is complete.”
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