Frank Robinson
My love of baseball began at an early age.
I actually remember watching the 1970 and 1971 World Series that involved the Baltimore Orioles.
I was rooting for them!
Because my Dad always went with the American League team, and because they were a good team with some real colorful players like Brooks, and Boog and Frank.
The O’s won in 5 games in 1970, but lost the ‘71 Series in 7 games.
Dad liked Brooks, John liked Boog and I was a Frank fan. He was just so big and strong, and I grew up knowing that he’d won the MVP as a member of the Reds and then years later with the Orioles.
Still the only guy to win the MVP in both leagues.
Frank also became the first black manager in the game. He managed the Indians. Was always open and honest about his love of the game.
He was a well-deserved Hall of Fame choice, and was always right there on the list of the greatest homerun hitters of all time.
(Until everyone started cheating!)
But, what I thought of first when Frank died?
It was 1987.
Dad and I were in West Haven, Connecticut working. I’d just finished college and he was running a job there. He asked me to come up.
“We have to go to Alfred’s Steakhouse in New York City.”
For weeks, Dad told me about the steaks.
One Friday night, we made the trip.
We both ordered huge porterhouse steaks - rare.
They were hanging off the plates, and we were just about to dig in when two big, black men walked in.
“You going to eat all that?” Frank Robinson said to my Dad.
His dinner date for the night was Reggie Jackson.
“You bet your ass I am,” my Dad said.
“We’ll be watching,” Frank said.
Frank and Reggie sat just two tables over.
Dad held up the empty plates to show them, and they both laughed.
By then, the two legends had their own steaks.
“We’ll eat ours too,” Reggie said.
And that was it...
...we didn’t bother them for autographs.
Just talked steaks.
And that’s when I thought of when I heard Frank died.
What a player.
RIP
Life well lived there.
I actually remember watching the 1970 and 1971 World Series that involved the Baltimore Orioles.
I was rooting for them!
Because my Dad always went with the American League team, and because they were a good team with some real colorful players like Brooks, and Boog and Frank.
The O’s won in 5 games in 1970, but lost the ‘71 Series in 7 games.
Dad liked Brooks, John liked Boog and I was a Frank fan. He was just so big and strong, and I grew up knowing that he’d won the MVP as a member of the Reds and then years later with the Orioles.
Still the only guy to win the MVP in both leagues.
Frank also became the first black manager in the game. He managed the Indians. Was always open and honest about his love of the game.
He was a well-deserved Hall of Fame choice, and was always right there on the list of the greatest homerun hitters of all time.
(Until everyone started cheating!)
But, what I thought of first when Frank died?
It was 1987.
Dad and I were in West Haven, Connecticut working. I’d just finished college and he was running a job there. He asked me to come up.
“We have to go to Alfred’s Steakhouse in New York City.”
For weeks, Dad told me about the steaks.
One Friday night, we made the trip.
We both ordered huge porterhouse steaks - rare.
They were hanging off the plates, and we were just about to dig in when two big, black men walked in.
“You going to eat all that?” Frank Robinson said to my Dad.
His dinner date for the night was Reggie Jackson.
“You bet your ass I am,” my Dad said.
“We’ll be watching,” Frank said.
Frank and Reggie sat just two tables over.
Dad held up the empty plates to show them, and they both laughed.
By then, the two legends had their own steaks.
“We’ll eat ours too,” Reggie said.
And that was it...
...we didn’t bother them for autographs.
Just talked steaks.
And that’s when I thought of when I heard Frank died.
What a player.
RIP
Life well lived there.
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