Say My Name in Vain
It ain’t what they call you, it’s what you answer to. W.C. Fields
May 30, 2022 [Memorial Day]
Recently, Josh Donaldson, the white third baseman for the New York Yankees, caused a minor ruckus by calling Tim Anderson, the black second baseman of the Chicago White Sox, “Jackie” after getting into a scuffle with him. Jackie, of course, was a reference to Jackie Robinson, who broke the ‘Color Line’ in 1947 and was the first African-American player in the white Major Leagues during the 20th Century. Donaldson tried to play off his ‘nickname’ for Anderson as a simple inside joke between the two men. In a 2019 Sports Illustrated article, Tim Anderson had referred to himself as a modern-day “Jackie Robinson” who was carrying on Jackie’s legacy in the Major Leagues. After that article came out, Donaldson claimed that he had called Anderson “Jackie” several times as a friendly gesture between the two men. Anderson, who was not friends with Donaldson, stated that he considered it a pretty obvious racial insult. Which, of course, it was. Donaldson, forced to choose between being an insensitive ignoramus or a racist, wisely chose to be an imbecile. Major League Baseball, properly embarrassed by the entire incident, suspended Josh Donaldson one entire game for basically being a moron without any knowledge of, or respect for, Baseball’s past.
In the name of Jack Robinson
If Baseball was a religion,* the two greatest Gods in its large Pantheon would be Jackie Robinson and Babe Ruth (not necessarily in that order). These two men represent the ego and the id of Baseball. Josh Donaldson was certainly guilty of racial insensitivity for using Jackie Robinson’s name as a slur. But he was more guilty of the crime of ignorance of the game’s history. For this, he should have been suspended for much longer than one game. The story of Jackie Robinson is almost unquestionably the most important chapter in the book of Baseball. Donaldson, who the game has given much to, should have known better than to take the name of Jackie Robinson in vain. But, even if he had studied Baseball’s past, it is very unlikely that Donaldson would have realized that, if Jackie Robinson played today, everybody would probably be calling him Jack, not Jackie. Jackie Robinson’s widow Rachel Robinson is still alive today (he will have passed away exactly 50 years ago this October 24th of 2022). She has given many interviews (if one wishes to hear her speak, Ken Burn’s “Baseball” documentaries for PBS are a good place to start). If you pay attention, you will notice that Rachel Robinson always calls her late husband Jack, his actual first name, not Jackie [see Note 1].
* If Baseball was a religion, Leo Durocher’s quote: “Baseball is like Church, many attend but few understand” would be scripture.
In 2014, Rachel Robinson also co-wrote a book about her late husband: Jackie Robinson, an Intimate Portrait. In this book, she consistently refers to him as Jack too. So why did he go down in history as Jackie, and not Jack, Robinson? Jack Roosevelt Robinson was born in Cairo, Georgia, on January 31, 1919. He certainly may have been called “Jackie” by his family while he was growing up. Of course, Jackie is a diminutive of the name Jack, and diminutives are usually used for children. John becomes Johnny, Robert becomes Bobby, and so on. But infantilizing names also has serious racial connotations. During the “Jim Crow” era before Civil Rights, African-American men were called “boy” even if they were a grandfather. To refer to an adult as boy is obviously disrespectful. To call any adult by the diminutive of their name without their consent would also be contemptuous. In the 1960s and 1970s, Richard Allen, one of the best African American players in Baseball, was constantly referred as “Richie” Allen by sportswriters despite constantly stating that he wanted to be called “Dick.” For some reason, the sportswriters would not comply with this request. Allen literally spelled out the disrespect by telling the sportswriters that: “Richie is a little boy’s name.” This casual racism did not led to a comfortable relationship between Dick Allen and the press.*
*Dick Allen should have long ago been elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame but these same sportswriters seem to have held onto their grudges.
The Origins of Jackie
Of course, there is absolutely no record of Jack Robinson objecting to having his first name turned into its diminutive. There is plenty of evidence that his immediate family all called him Jack as an adult. Robinson was actually pretty famous long before he became legendary as the man who erased the Major League Baseball ban on African American players. In college, Jackie Robinson was an athletic superstar, reportedly the first man to “letter”* in four different sports (baseball, basketball, football and track) at UCLA. Even before he went to UCLA, Robinson’s name had appeared regularly in the press. A young man at this time, he was regularly referred to as “Jackie” Robinson by sportswriters. Did Robinson not object to being nicknamed “Jackie” later in life just because it was the name by which he was best known? Did he even care? He may not have. Considering all the prejudice and discrimination that he faced later on, Robinson may have regarded his name as a minor issue, not worth making a fuss about. Or perhaps Robinson did not mind be called “Jackie” rather than his true name Jack at all. If Jack Robinson never insisted on not being called Jackie, who else would have the right? Of course, the theory that, if he played today, he would be known as Jack Robinson is just conjecture. Nonetheless, there is still a slight aroma of racism to the fact that he went down in history as Jackie Robinson.
* Lettering in a college sport used to mean literally what that says. When an athlete was successful in any college sport, he would wear large letter on his school jacket, like a big “H” for Harvard. There was no standard used by all colleges and universities to decide who got one of these letters.
Modern Baseball Nomenclature
Interestingly, there has been a movement in the last few years to “fix” names that would now be considered disrespectful. Before the December 2021 vote by the Baseball Hall of Fame Committee overseeing eligible players from the 19th Century, articles encouraging the election of Bill Hoy were written. My first response on seeing one of these articles was: “Who the hell is Bill Hoy?” Then I realized that they were advocating for William “Dummy” Hoy, probably the best deaf Baseball player of all-time. The Baseball Reference [BR] website now refers to “Dummy” Hoy as Billy Hoy. The BR website has also changed the commonly used names of various other players. “Chief” Bender is now Charles. “Chief” Meyers has become Jack Meyers. For reasons unknown, Jim Thorpe and Louis Sockalexis, probably the two most famous American Indian players, were not tagged with the nickname “Chief” while they were living. So they did not need to be stripped of it once they were dead (though Sockalexis was evidently nicknamed “Deerfoot”). “Dummy” Taylor has been renamed as Luther Taylor. “Three Finger” Brown has been rechristened Mordecai Brown. “Fatty” (or “Fats”) Fothergill has now been rebranded as Bob Fothergill. All of these men are long dead at the present time. It is unlikely that anyone will be objecting to the changes in how they are listed in Baseball Reference books or on Baseball websites.
Where do modern baseball historians draw the line in making changes to the less sensitive mores of the past? One cannot really disagree with the current expunging of the racial epithet that was formerly listed as the common first name of both George Cuppy and Jay Kirke. Bob Fothergill would also surely not mind his corpulent nicknames being erased from the record books if he was still here. The nicknames Dummy, Chief, and possibly Three Finger were probably not appreciated by their bearers. The late Richie Allen is now pretty much universally referred to by his preferred Dick Allen. What about Chino Smith, the great 1920s African American outfielder? The nickname Chino was often used in Blackball to denote Chinese looking eyes or skin. Should he be rebranded with the much more common and totally boring name of Charlie (or Charley) Smith? Of course, the fact that Smith was almost always called Charlie or Charley rather than Chino during his career doesn’t help with the argument that he should go down in history as Chino Smith. Unfortunately, there is probably no good argument for changing the name of Charley Jones (one of baseball’s first great sluggers) back into his birth name of Benjamin Rippay, other than the fact that Ben Rippay is a fantastic name for a Baseball player.* He was always known as Charlie Jones while he played.
*Roll the headline “Ben Rippay has been ripping the ball” around your tongue.
The Future of Baseball Names?
The light one-game suspension of Josh Donaldson by Major League Baseball for his racial and historical ignorance was clearly meant to put this minor but repugnant incident in the rear view mirror. No one wanted the slight aroma of racism and contempt to linger. Someone even made sure that Donaldson put out a statement that apologized to Rachel Robinson and her family. This should have been the end of it. However, Donaldson, claiming that he meant no harm, improbably appealed this extremely minor punishment. Of course, this is just a sign of the current troubled times. No famous (or public) figure ever accepts responsibility for anything anymore. In the old eye-for-an-eye world, Josh Donaldson would have been ridiculed for this. Perhaps he would have been handed a suitable nickname, such as “Douchie” (or something), to memorialize his contempt and ignorance of Baseball’s history. But, of course, that would be just as infantile as using a child’s name to denigrate any adult. And, it would go against what is sorely needed in these current trying times: Moderation (regardless of that, I will probably call him Douchie Donaldson in my head from now on). However, moderation seems to have gone totally out of style. Perhaps future generations will learn of Jack Robinson and George Ruth rather than Jackie Robinson and Babe Ruth. After all, who wants to be called a nickname that has the slight stench of racism or is based on the fact that someone called you a big baby?
Note #1
One of the most important people involved in Jackie Robinson’s integration of the Major Leagues was Wendell Smith. He was a reporter for the African American newspaper The Pittsburgh Courier. Early in 1945, Smith recruited Robinson and two other Black players for an infamous and ultimately fruitless tryout with the Boston Red Sox. After that failed attempt at breaking down the walls of baseball integration, Smith was sought out by Branch Rickey, who asked him if any of those players were Major League caliber. Smith quickly responded: “Robinson” to Rickey. Of course, Branch Rickey would be the man who eventually hired Jackie Robinson to play for the Brooklyn Dodgers and demolish the ‘Color Line.’ While Robinson integrated Baseball, Rickey hired Wendell Smith to accompany and look out for Robinson off the field. For all this, Robinson agreed to let Wendell Smith write his first biography. In this life story, Smith wrote that Jackie Robinson’s full name was: John Roosevelt Robinson. Evidently, Smith just assumed that Robinson’s first name was John. This was not unreasonable as “Jack” is often a nickname for John. Evidently Jackie Robinson did not, or was never given an opportunity to, proofread his own biography. If he ever even became aware of this mistake is lost in the ebb and flow of history. If he did, I wonder how he reacted.