My O's Icon: Frank Robinson...
Well, as long as I have been alive and an O’s fan, I have always had this one name in my mind: Frank Robinson.
For me growing up, Frank Robinson was an iconic symbol unlike any other. I always tell everyone Cal Ripken was my favorite all-time Oriole growing up, but Frank was my all time favorite ballplayer.
I went to the final Nationals game of 2006 at RFK Stadium in Washington D.C., which was Frank’s last one as manager. As a baseball fan in general, I often catch other teams than the Orioles, but even though Frank donned the Nationals red and blue, he was still the man to me. I’ve only met him once at a show, but that Sunday I felt that one of the symbols of my past was going away, perhaps never to been again. Seeing this icon, a man who had a will of steel, and sometimes stubborn, cry and show the love to his fans that Sunday sent chills up my spine. That day 30,000 of us along with Frank and his family showered him with emotion, love and empathy reserved at most time for only immediate family.
The only time I felt that way when I saw Cal Ripken run across the warning track at Camden Yards while watching TV the night he broke Lou Gehrig’s streak.
It was surely a business move on the Nationals part and most people understood and respected it. Some people feel the Nationals disrespected Frank by the way they handled letting him go. No matter how anyone felt, or the amount of wins and losses, people loved Frank even though he was not touchy-feely, grandfatherly or had the aura or charisma of a Joe Torre, or the supposed managerial brilliance of a Tony LaRussa.
I admired Frank. Maybe it is because we have a common ethnicity and saw some play the game, who looked like me do something I dreamed of all my life; or maybe I respected the way he played ball and his competitive fire. Perhaps it was that he wore the black and orange with pride, although we wore red, white and blue for the last several seasons. What struck me though was that Frank was a tough, proud man who did not take crap or disrespect from no one.
When someone threw at him, he got mad and didn’t get back with violence, but at the plate with the bat and took it out on the ball.
Frank at AARP age, took on Mike Scioscia, a man more than 20 years younger than he.
He wore the number 20 for the Orioles and the National. He hit 586 homers. He was the Triple Crown Winner in 1966. Frank was a two-time World Series winner. As well, he became the first African American manager with the Cleveland Indians in 1974.
I was not born when he played. My first glimpse of this legend was when he was manager of the Orioles. Based on his managerial statistics, he was not a great numbers-wise, never took a team to the playoffs, and he surely never had the best talent on his teams, but he seemed to approach his job with an old-school grit & workman-like ethic.
In life, you work hard, take your lumps, do your job even though you may not have the resources, and do everything with integrity. Frank Robinson was the embodiment of those values, not only when he played, but when he managed.
Although I was only able to see him play via tape many years later, I fell in love with this power, persistence and ferocity.
For that, I am grateful.
He’s an icon of two cities, and not many athletes, or much less people can claim that. I sincerely wish that he will get a job in baseball again, whether it is with the Nationals or another organization.
The man has too much history, baseball acumen and should be representative for baseball; whether it is in someone’s front office, as a representative to spark the game in minority and the inner cities, or simply as someone who could spread the values of being a good ballplayer with plus 50 years of experience.
In the end, Frank Robinson took jobs in baseball that were much left up for grabs and a last resort. He had to manage an awful Expos team devoid of resources, later become vagabonds and had to survive a move to another city. Even though the Nationals were never much good, except with the magical season in 2005 where they won 81 games, he was the tie that bonded the team – much like he was with the Orioles.
For my hero and icon, Major League Baseball needs to respect what he’s given to the game and give him something back.
For me growing up, Frank Robinson was an iconic symbol unlike any other. I always tell everyone Cal Ripken was my favorite all-time Oriole growing up, but Frank was my all time favorite ballplayer.
I went to the final Nationals game of 2006 at RFK Stadium in Washington D.C., which was Frank’s last one as manager. As a baseball fan in general, I often catch other teams than the Orioles, but even though Frank donned the Nationals red and blue, he was still the man to me. I’ve only met him once at a show, but that Sunday I felt that one of the symbols of my past was going away, perhaps never to been again. Seeing this icon, a man who had a will of steel, and sometimes stubborn, cry and show the love to his fans that Sunday sent chills up my spine. That day 30,000 of us along with Frank and his family showered him with emotion, love and empathy reserved at most time for only immediate family.
The only time I felt that way when I saw Cal Ripken run across the warning track at Camden Yards while watching TV the night he broke Lou Gehrig’s streak.
It was surely a business move on the Nationals part and most people understood and respected it. Some people feel the Nationals disrespected Frank by the way they handled letting him go. No matter how anyone felt, or the amount of wins and losses, people loved Frank even though he was not touchy-feely, grandfatherly or had the aura or charisma of a Joe Torre, or the supposed managerial brilliance of a Tony LaRussa.
I admired Frank. Maybe it is because we have a common ethnicity and saw some play the game, who looked like me do something I dreamed of all my life; or maybe I respected the way he played ball and his competitive fire. Perhaps it was that he wore the black and orange with pride, although we wore red, white and blue for the last several seasons. What struck me though was that Frank was a tough, proud man who did not take crap or disrespect from no one.
When someone threw at him, he got mad and didn’t get back with violence, but at the plate with the bat and took it out on the ball.
Frank at AARP age, took on Mike Scioscia, a man more than 20 years younger than he.
He wore the number 20 for the Orioles and the National. He hit 586 homers. He was the Triple Crown Winner in 1966. Frank was a two-time World Series winner. As well, he became the first African American manager with the Cleveland Indians in 1974.
I was not born when he played. My first glimpse of this legend was when he was manager of the Orioles. Based on his managerial statistics, he was not a great numbers-wise, never took a team to the playoffs, and he surely never had the best talent on his teams, but he seemed to approach his job with an old-school grit & workman-like ethic.
In life, you work hard, take your lumps, do your job even though you may not have the resources, and do everything with integrity. Frank Robinson was the embodiment of those values, not only when he played, but when he managed.
Although I was only able to see him play via tape many years later, I fell in love with this power, persistence and ferocity.
For that, I am grateful.
He’s an icon of two cities, and not many athletes, or much less people can claim that. I sincerely wish that he will get a job in baseball again, whether it is with the Nationals or another organization.
The man has too much history, baseball acumen and should be representative for baseball; whether it is in someone’s front office, as a representative to spark the game in minority and the inner cities, or simply as someone who could spread the values of being a good ballplayer with plus 50 years of experience.
In the end, Frank Robinson took jobs in baseball that were much left up for grabs and a last resort. He had to manage an awful Expos team devoid of resources, later become vagabonds and had to survive a move to another city. Even though the Nationals were never much good, except with the magical season in 2005 where they won 81 games, he was the tie that bonded the team – much like he was with the Orioles.
For my hero and icon, Major League Baseball needs to respect what he’s given to the game and give him something back.
***
Other clips of Frank’s Retirement – thanks to user Michael Briggs
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