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Ma Robinson regarded it as sinful for twelve-year-old Jackie to be playing baseball at Brookside Park on Sundays while the pews at Preacher Scott's church were half empty. "The devil is sending the people to watch you play," said Mama, "and he's also sending you to play." Jackie won her over by taking her to a few games. She kept quiet until he began playing football, a game which disturbed both her religious and maternal instincts. One Saturday three Glendale High School players piled on Jackie and cracked two of his ribs. She still remembers that day: "I seen them throwing water on my boy and I wanted to rush down there and help him. But he got up and walked off the field and I sat down. After that, I always worry about my baby."
Man in Motion. But Jackie could take care of himself. At U.C.L.A. he was one of the slickest halfbacks who ever put on cleats. His ball-carrying average: a remarkable twelve yards a try. Jackie was used mostly as the man-in-motion on offense, because of his skill at faking and feinting. He won All-America honorable mention. U.C.L.A.'s heavy-duty ballcarrier was another Negro, talented Kenny Washington, who made the All-America first team. He and Jackie had no particular love for each other, but both deny persistent campus rumors that they once had a knockdown, drag-out fight in a dark alley. "T'ain't so," says Jackie, "I'm not dumb enough to have a fight with Kenny. He's too big."
Jackie has never tried boxing, but Branch Rickey is convinced that Jackie would be sensational at it—or at any other sport he tried. In basketball, Jackie was the leading scorer of the Pacific Coast Conference for two years. He did not play tennis much, but the first time he played in the Negro National Tournament, he got to the semifinals. Baseball was the game he had played longest and liked least.
Two years ago, after 31 months in the Army, Jackie signed up as a shortstop for the barnstorming Kansas City Monarchs. It was a Negro club featuring old and reliable Pitcher "Satchel" Paige, who would have been a big leaguer once, had the big leagues been willing to admit Negroes sooner. The grubby life with the Monarchs was a shock to college-bred Jackie. The Monarchs traveled around in an old bus, often for two or three days at a time (the league stretches from Kansas City to Newark) without a bath, a bed, or a hot meal, and then crawled out long enough to play a game. The smart ones got aboard the bus early, rolled up their uniforms for a pillow, and slept in the aisle. "After two months of it, I was for quitting," says Jackie. "No future." He didn't know it, but all the time Branch Rickey was getting reports of Jackie's playing, and of his .340 batting average.