As spring starts and flowers bloom, I settle into an annual tradition. Baseball season starts in spring. Those who know me know that I’ve cheered for the Atlanta Braves from the start. People often follow that discovery with a question (or confusion, if you know my geographical history). No, I never lived in Atlanta, though I have visited a handful of times. For the record, I do not follow the American predisposition to cheer for a professional team based on geography. If anything, it irritates me that others assume that I would follow suit.
In 1982, the Atlanta Braves rocketed from next-to-last in the preceding year into first place through a 13-0 start. They kept that first-place position in the National League West on the last game of the season versus the Padres by the skin of their teeth. The start of the baseball season is magical. The 1982 Braves weaved that magic. They were the embodiment of the little engine that could. Geography does not undo that kind of loyalty.
In many ways, baseball is a microcosm of real life. Baseball has tickled that part of me that is fascinated by numbers. I occasionally use baseball to express an idea that would otherwise be too emotionally charged.
The number on the uniform
When I first discovered baseball, I spent time reading the rulebook. I learned some rules through the detailed account of the long-time Atlanta Braves baseball broadcasters. For instance, the grounds crew may only treat the field after the end of the inning, not between the top and bottom halves. The rationale is that the treatment of the field has to affect both teams similarly. Some ballparks had palmtrees in the outfield in fair territory; those trees were in play. Even if a ball would fly over the fence for a homerun, if it hits this tree and falls to the ground, it’s in play. The bullpens at Jack Murphy Stadium in San Diego were in play; if a batted ball rolled into the bullpen, it was still live.
While I wanted to learn the official rules about obscure subjects like the infield fly and balk rules, I also read through the section on the rules about the uniforms. The home team always wears white; some teams may bend this rule by wearing white pants with colored jerseys. The uniforms may have the player’s name, but the entire team needs to be consistent (either with or without). If there’s a name on the uniform, it must be the player’s surname. Any exceptions, like Ichiro, must have explicit permission from the commissioner.
All uniforms must have a number on the back. Furthermore, that number must be unique within that team.
Exception to the rules
As a software tester, I marvel at the sheer destructive power of breaking things. Therefore, exceptions to the rules fascinate me. It was once rumored that Ted Turner, once owner of both the Atlanta Braves and TBS (normally assigned on the dial to 17), offered a player money to change his name. This player got the number 17, and upon the name change, the jersey would read ‘Channel 17. ‘
When teams retire uniform (numbers), it is mostly a courtesy. If that player built a career wearing a particular number, if they join a team where that jersey is retired, the team may allow that player to wear the number. That number must be unique to that player on that team; that rule still applies.
However, there is a unique number in baseball; the rules do not apply to this number. This number is 42. The fact that it’s the answer to life, the universe, and everything is merely coincidental. Nonetheless, it’s still magical:
- Every MLB team has retired this uniform.
- Even newly formed franchises retire this uniform.
- While players may not otherwise wear this uniform, there’s one day where they may wear this number.
- On that day, every player in every MLB team wears this number.
What’s so special about this number? It is the number Jackie Robinson wore.
Jackie Robinson Day
It’s observed on April 15th each year. The fact that it happens to be Tax Day is merely coincidental. In 1947, Jackie Robinson broke MLB’s color line on April 15th when he started at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Until that day, black players and white players were segregated, the former played in the negro baseball leagues.
It may seem trivial now, but at the time, it would have been similar to a woman playing in the NFL today. This was the 1940s, after all, before the civil rights movement. On the field, Robinson endured racist jeers, taunts, and even death threats. Today, we observe this day to remember. It’s the jarring reminder that this is indeed who we were. As unsettling as the idea may be, that spectator shouting the n-word from the stands could’ve been your grandfather. If they had offspring, they were likely someone’s grandfather; look around the room.
Baseball sets this day aside to remember. It’s baseball’s version of Never Forget. On this day, we break the rules. This baseball uniform is unretired on every team, and all MLB players in the entire league wear the same number: 42. Yes, it’s that significant.
Because of our racism.
What does that look like in 2025?
Ron Desantis in Florida signed the ‘Stop WOKE Act’. This law presumes to ban the discussion of sensitive topics (like racism) in schools and businesses. Fortunately, the courts banned some elements of this law for being unconstitutional. Still, many will automatically tag such conversations about race as CRT (Critical Race Theory) and immediately shut down conversations as woke.
I have a question for the folks in Florida and other states that adhere to this Orwellian altering of history. What do you tell your kids when they sit with you at the ballpark and all the players wear the number 42? How do you talk about the breaking of the color line if racism doesn’t exist?
Will the current Trump administration, who systematically erases references to other races (and women) from places of acknowledgement, bully MLB into canceling Jackie Robinson Day? Will individual states bully their teams into canceling it?
It starts here. If we don’t do what we can to remember, we will forget. Once we forget, we are at risk of repeating history. Let’s not repeat history.