Free 42 by Aaron Rosenberg Page A

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    â€œI did,” the commissioner replied. “He was seen in Havana with known gamblers.”
    Rickey laughed. “Anyone who sets foot in Havana is seen with known gamblers.” Which was true, though he knew Durocher was worse about it than most. He was a great coach, but he did like his card games. Among other amusements.
    â€œIt’s not just one thing,” Happy explained, “it’s an accumulation. I received notice today from the Catholic Youth Organization, vowing a ban on baseball unless Durocher is punished for his moral looseness.”
    â€œYou’re joking.” But Rickey could tell he wasn’t. And he had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.
    Sure enough, Happy continued, “It’s this business with the actress in California. She’s recently divorced and Durocher is the cause. They may even be illegally married.”
    Rickey shook his head. “Now I’m sure you’re joking.” What was Durocher thinking? He’d tried to warn the man about seeing that actress, but did Leo listen? Of course not!
    â€œI wish I were,” Happy said. He sounded as insincere as ever, though. Rickey knew that the commissioner had never been one of Durocher’s biggest fans. It didn’t help that Happy was a good friend of Larry MacPhail, the new Yankees owner — and that MacPhail and Durocher had been trading insults ever since the Yankees had stolen away two of their coaches. Leo had some pretty choice words for MacPhail, and now it looked like MacPhail may have called on his buddy to help him even the score. Though it apparently wasn’t just about that feud, as Happy was quick to point out. “The CYO buy a lot of tickets, Branch. They draw a lot of water, and I can’t afford to ruffle their feathers. Am I mixing metaphors there?”
    Rickey sighed. “You know very well my organization is about to enter a tempest,” he admitted to Happy. “I need Durocher at the rudder. He’s the only man who can handle this much trouble — who loves it, in fact. You’re chopping off my right hand!”
    But his plea fell on deaf ears. “I have no choice,” Happy claimed. “I’m going to have to sit your manager, Branch. Leo Durocher is suspended from baseball for a year.”
    â€œYou can’t do that!” Rickey hollered into the phone, finally losing his temper. “Happy, you —” But he was talking to a dial tone. Rickey steadied himself, then glanced up at Parrott. “Trouble ahead, Harold,” he told his employee. “Trouble.”

    Still, Rickey wasn’t about to let losing Durocher derail his plans. That was why, the following morning, the ring of a phone woke Jackie in his hotel room.
    â€œHello?” he said after grasping for the receiver and getting it somewhere near his mouth.
    â€œMr. Robinson,” a woman replied, sounding far too awake for this early in the morning. “It’s Jane Ann, in Mr. Rickey’s office. He needs to see you right away. He has a contract for you to sign.”
    That woke Jackie up in a hurry!
    An hour later, he was sitting in Rickey’s office, which looked the same as it had three years before. Even the goldfish were still there. He was staring at them when Rickey entered, carrying a contract in his hands. He set it down on the desk in front of Jackie and handed him a pen.
    â€œI’m so sorry about the rush,” Rickey told him. “Events are unfolding too fast to keep up with. The burden has finally fallen to me, and so be it.”
    Jackie didn’t know what Rickey was talking about, exactly — and he didn’t much care. All that mattered to him right now was the piece of paper in front of him, and the fact that it put together two very important names: “Jack Roosevelt Robinson” and “Brooklyn Dodgers.” He barely glanced at the rest before pointing near the bottom. “Sign