Game 19: Red Sox at Twins

Stealing home and smashing barriers.

First Pitch: 12:40 PM
TV: Twins.TV
Radio: TIBN, WCCO 830, The Wolf 102.9 FM, Audacy App
Know Yo’ Foe: Over the Monster

Rewind the clock to ‘46,
Of segregation politics:
A minor league second baseman, Jack;
Opponents wouldn’t play him ‘cause his skin was black.
The Army dropped him when he made a fuss
Of being ordered to the back of bus.
But then a star with Kansas City; Dodgers brought him aboard;
A future of acceptance he was bringing us toward:

Those
Teams laughed for so long,
“Your existence is wrong!”
Bore so much, wouldn’t flee:
You knew whom you’d be:
You’re an MVP
In number 42.

In ‘47, got the call to the Show;
Yes, some around supported, but the hate would only grow:
You’d hear the cruelest epithets from bench and stands,
Get block-written letters with murder in their plans.
But on the field, it was ball and bat,
Same ninety feet no matter where you’re at.
You hit .300, stole thirty bags,
And the Dodgers soon raised pennant flags;

Though
Teams laughed for so long,
You were proving ‘em wrong.
With no such guarantee,
You were whom you’d be:
You’re an MVP
In number 42.

You got down to business, and here you’d thrive,
You won Rookie of the Year, then a ring in ‘55.
One more season, then you were done;
Did you know what you’d begun?

It’s nearly eighty years since your debut,
And every player will be in 42.
Through all that old hate that’s rising and stark,
There’s plenty on field who have skin shaded dark.
So many further enshrined with a plaque
Who played because you opened up a crack.
Now there’s a game ahead, and the fans are awed;
We know today whom we must applaud!

Though
Teams laughed for so long,
You have proven ‘em wrong.
There’s so much to decree;
You were so more than you’d be:
You’re an MVP
In number 42;
Yes, you’re our MVP
In number 42.