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FILE -
In this
Nov. 9,
2005,
file
photo,
President
Bush
awards
baseball
legend
Frank
Robinson
the
Presidential
Medal of
Freedom
Award in
the East
Room of
the
White
House in
Washington.
Hall of
Famer
Frank
Robinson,
the
first
black
manager
in Major
League
Baseball
and the
only
player
to win
the MVP
award in
both
leagues,
has
died. He
was 83.
Robinson
had been
in
hospice
care at
his home
in Bel
Air. MLB
confirmed
his
death
Thursday,
Feb. 7,
2019.(AP
Photo/Lawrence
Jackson,
File) |
|
Frank
Robinson,
baseball’s
fearsome
trailblazer,
dies at
83
By
DAVID
GINSBURG
and
BEN
WALKER
APNews.com
Crowding
the
plate,
fearsome
and
fearless,
Frank
Robinson
hammered
his way
into the
Hall of
Fame.
His
legacy,
however,
was
cemented
that day
in 1975
when he
simply
stood in
the
dugout
at old
Cleveland
Stadium
— the
first
black
manager
in Major
League
Baseball.
Robinson,
the only
player
to earn
the MVP
award in
both
leagues
and a
Triple
Crown
winner,
died
Thursday
at 83.
He had
been in
failing
health
and in
hospice
care at
his home
in the
Bel Air
section
of Los
Angeles.
MLB said
he was
with
family
and
friends
at the
time.
“Frank
Robinson’s
resume
in our
game is
without
parallel,
a
trailblazer
in every
sense,
whose
impact
spanned
generations,”
Commissioner
Rob
Manfred
said in
a
statement.
Robinson
hit 586
home
runs —
he was
fourth
on the
career
list
behind
only
Hank
Aaron,
Babe
Ruth and
Willie
Mays
when he
retired
and now
ranks
10th. An
MVP with
Cincinnati
and
Baltimore,
he led
the
Orioles
to their
first
World
Series
championship
in 1966.
“Frank
Robinson
and I
were
more
than
baseball
buddies.
We were
friends.
Frank
was a
hard-nosed
baseball
player
who did
things
on the
field
that
people
said
could
never be
done,”
Aaron
posted
on
Twitter.
“Baseball
will
miss a
tremendous
human
being,”
he said.
An
All-Star
outfielder
in 12
seasons
and a
first-ballot
selection
to
Cooperstown,
Robinson
also was
a Rookie
of the
Year, a
Gold
Glove
outfielder
and a
bruising
runner.
But
his
place in
the
sport’s
history
extended
far
beyond
the
batter’s
box and
basepaths.
Robinson
fulfilled
his
quest to
become
the
first
African-American
manager
in the
big
leagues
when he
was
hired by
the
Cleveland
Indians.
His
impact
was
immediate
and
memorable.
The
Indians
opened
at home
that
year and
Robinson,
still
active,
batted
himself
second
as the
designated
hitter.
In the
first
inning,
he
homered
off Doc
Medich
and the
crowd
went
crazy,
cheering
the
whole
April
afternoon
as
Cleveland
beat the
Yankees.
The
Reds,
Orioles
and
Indians
have
retired
his No.
20 and
honored
him with
statues
at their
stadiums.
Robinson
later
managed
San
Francisco,
Baltimore
and
Montreal.
He
became
the
first
manager
of the
Washington
Nationals
after
the
franchise
moved
from
Montreal
for the
2005
season —
the
Nationals
put him
in their
Ring of
Honor.
More
than
half the
major
league
teams
have had
black
managers
since
his
debut
with
Cleveland.
Robinson
later
spent
several
years
working
as an
executive
for MLB
and for
a time
oversaw
the
annual
Civil
Rights
Game. He
advocated
for more
minorities
throughout
baseball
and
worked
with
former
Commissioner
Bud
Selig to
develop
the
Selig
Rule,
directing
teams to
interview
at least
one
minority
candidate
before
hiring a
new
manager.
For
all he
did on
and off
the
field,
Robinson
was
presented
the
Presidential
Medal of
Freedom
by
George
W. Bush
in 2005.
“Frank
Robinson’s
wife,
Barbara
Ann
Cole,
once
said,
“He
believes
in rules
and he
respects
the
game. He
reveres
the
game,‘”
Bush
said in
a
statement.
“When I
presented
him with
the
Presidential
Medal of
Freedom
in 2005,
I noted
that
‘Baseball
fans
across
America
will
tell you
the
feeling
is
returned.
In the
game we
love,
few
names
will
ever
command
as much
respect
and
esteem
as the
name of
Frank
Robinson.’”
Brooks
Robinson,
a fellow
first-ballot
Hall of
Famer,
said he
spoke to
his
Baltimore
teammate
and
longtime
friend a
few days
ago.
“He
was the
best
player I
ever
played
with,”
he said.
Hall
of Fame
manager
Joe
Torre
played
against
and
worked
with
Frank
Robinson
for
years.
“He
was a
tough
nut,”
Torre
recalled
at the
owners’
meetings
in
Orlando,
Florida.
“He
never
lost
that
feistiness,
which
puts a
smile on
your
face ...
He was
always
that guy
that
commanded
a lot of
respect
and he
had a
presence
about
him.”
Born
Aug. 21,
1935, in
Beaumont,
Texas,
Robinson
attended
McClymonds
High
School
in
Oakland,
California,
and was
a
basketball
teammate
of
future
NBA
great
Bill
Russell.
But it
was on
the
diamond,
rather
than
court,
where
fame
awaited
Robinson.
“We
all know
we lost
one of
the
Greats,”
tweeted
Russell,
also the
first
black
coach in
the NBA.
Starting
out in
an era
when
Mays,
Aaron,
Mickey
Mantle
and Ted
Williams
were the
big
hitters,
Robinson
more
than
held his
own over
21
seasons
— if
anything,
many who
watched
Robinson
felt he
never
got his
full due
as an
all-time
great.
He
finished
with
1,812
RBIs and
hit .294
— he
played
in the
World
Series
five
times,
and
homered
in each
of them.
Robinson
was the
only
player
to hit a
ball
completely
out of
old
Memorial
Stadium
in
Baltimore
and once
connected
for
grand
slams in
consecutive
innings
of a
game.
But he
didn’t
just
slug
away, as
evidenced
by a
.389
on-base
average
boosted
by 1,420
walks
against
1,532
strikeouts.
Extremely
alert on
the
bases,
he had
204
steals.
Robinson
played
the game
with
grace,
yet was
known as
a fierce
competitor
who
combined
hard
work
with
natural
talent.
He
planted
himself
near the
plate,
yielding
to no
pitcher,
and
didn’t
seem to
care
about
being
brushed
back or
getting
hit by a
pitch
198
times.
“Pitchers
did me a
favor
when
they
knocked
me
down,”
Robinson
said.
“It made
me more
determined.
I
wouldn’t
let that
pitcher
get me
out.”
And
opposing
pitchers
noticed.
“Frank
Robinson
might
have
been the
best I
ever saw
at
turning
his
anger
into
runs. He
challenged
you
physically
as soon
as he
stepped
into the
batter’s
box,
with
half his
body
hanging
over the
plate,”
Hall ace
Bob
Gibson
once
wrote.
“As
a rule,
I’m
reluctant
to
express
admiration
for
hitters,
but I
make an
exception
for
Frank
Robinson,”
Gibson
wrote.
Robinson
carried
a
similar
philosophy
as a
baserunner,
unapologetically
sliding
spikes
high
whenever
necessary.
“The
baselines
belong
to the
runner,
and
whenever
I was
running
the
bases, I
always
slid
hard,”
Robinson
declared.
Robinson
broke in
with a
bang as
a
20-year-old
big
leaguer.
He tied
the
first-year
record
with 38
home
runs for
Cincinnati
in 1956,
scored a
league-high
122
times
and was
voted NL
Rookie
of the
Year.
Robinson
was the
1961 NL
MVP
after
batting
.323
with 37
homers
and 124
RBIs for
the
pennant-winning
Reds,
and
reached
career
highs in
runs
(134)
and RBIs
(136) in
1962.
All-time
hits
leader
Pete
Rose
joined
the Reds
the next
year.
“He
had a
huge
influence
on me
when I
first
came up
in ’63,”
Rose
told The
Associated
Press by
phone.
“Frank
was a
really
aggressive,
hard-nosed
player,
and it
rubbed
off on
everybody.
Frank
was the
one who
took me
under
his
wings,
so to
speak.
...
Frank
consistently
talked
to me
about
playing
the game
the
right
way,” he
said.
Robinson
was an
All-Star,
too, in
1965,
but Reds
owner
Bill
DeWitt
decided
Robinson
was an
old-ish
30 and
it was
time to
make a
move.
That
December,
Robinson
was the
centerpiece
in what
would
ultimately
be one
of the
most
lopsided
trades
in
baseball
history,
going to
Baltimore
for
pitchers
Milt
Pappas
and Jack
Baldschun
and
outfielder
Dick
Simpson.
Robinson
became
an
instant
hit with
the
Orioles
in 1966
as the
unanimous
AL MVP
and a
Triple
Crown
winner.
On
May 8,
he
became
the only
player
ever to
hit a
home run
completely
out of
Baltimore’s
home
park,
Memorial
Stadium.
The
drive
came
against
Cleveland
ace Luis
Tiant,
and the
spot
where
the ball
sailed
over the
left-field
wall was
marked
by a
flag
that
read
“HERE”
that
remained
in place
until
the
Orioles
left for
Camden
Yards in
1991.
Robinson
batted
.316
with 49
home
runs and
122 RBIs
during
his
first
season
in
Birdland.
He then
homered
in the
first
inning
of the
1966
World
Series
opener
at
Dodger
Stadium
and
capped
off the
four-game
sweep of
Los
Angeles
with
another
homer
off Don
Drysdale
in a 1-0
win in
Game 4.
Robinson
hit two
home
runs
against
Rose and
the Reds
to help
win
another
crown
for the
Orioles
in 1970.
All
told,
Robinson
was an
All-Star
in five
of his
six
seasons
with
Baltimore,
reaching
the
World
Series
four
times
and
batting
.300
with 179
home
runs.
The cap
on his
Cooperstown
plaque
carries
on O’s
logo.
Pappas
went
30-29
over
two-plus
seasons
with the
Reds,
Baldschun
won one
game in
51
appearances
over two
years
with
Cincinnati
and
Simpson
hit five
home
runs as
a
part-time
outfielder
for the
Reds
during
two
mediocre
seasons.
Robinson
was
traded
to the
Dodgers
before
the 1972
season.
He
played
for the
California
Angels
in 1973
and was
dealt to
Cleveland
late in
the 1974
season.
His
managerial
debut
came 28
years
after
Jackie
Robinson
broke
the MLB
color
barrier
as a
player.
“Every
time I
put on
this
uniform,
I think
of
Jackie
Robinson,”
Frank
Robinson
said as
he began
his new
role.
Jackie
Robinson’s
widow,
Rachel,
and
daughter
Sharon
paid
tribute.
“Frank
Robinson
was a
dear
friend
and
realized
one of
Jack’s
great
hopes,
becoming
baseball’s
first
African-American
manager.
He was
remarkable
and made
us all
feel
proud
for his
many
contributions
to
baseball
and to
society,”
they
said
together
in a
statement.
Robinson
had
coached
for the
Orioles
and
worked
in their
front
office
when he
became
their
manager
in 1988
after
the team
opened
at 0-6.
Things
didn’t
get much
better
right
away as
Baltimore
went on
to lose
its
first 21
games
and
finished
54-107.
The next
season,
the O’s
went
87-75
and
Robinson
was
voted AL
Manager
of the
Year.
Tough
and
demanding,
he went
1,065-1,176
overall
as a big
league
manager.
A
no-nonsense
guy,
Robinson
also had
a sharp
wit.
That
served
him well
in
Baltimore
where,
in
addition
to being
a star
right
fielder,
he was
the
judge
for the
team’s
Kangaroo
Court,
assessing
playful
fines
for
missing
signs,
uniform
mishaps
and
other
things
he
deemed
as
infractions.
At
the
time,
the
Orioles
had a
batboy
named
Jay
Mazzone,
whose
hands
were
amputated
when he
was 2
after a
burning
accident.
Mazzone
capably
did his
job for
years
with
metal
hooks
and
became
good
friends
with
Robinson.
Some
players,
though,
initially
weren’t
sure how
to treat
the
teen.
“Frank
Robinson
broke
the
ice,”
Mazzone
said.
“He was
running
his
Kangaroo
Court
and
calling
a vote
among
the
players,
whether
to fine
somebody
or not.”
“It
was
either
thumbs
up or
thumbs
down,”
he
recalled.
“After
the
vote, he
said,
‘Jay,
you’re
fined
for not
voting.’
Everybody
laughed.
After
that, I
was
treated
just
like
everybody
else.”
Survivors
include
his
wife,
Barbara,
and
daughter
Nichelle.
There
was no
immediate
word on
funeral
arrangements.
The
family
said in
lieu of
flowers,
contributions
in
Robinson’s
memory
could be
made to
the
National
Civil
Rights
Museum
in
Memphis,
Tennessee,
or the
National
Museum
of
African
American
History
&
Culture
in
Washington,
D.C.
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