Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

And two long faces, huh?
Oop.
All future, no past.
It's a shirtsleeve afternoon.
Whoo!
And the rockets red glare
What are you, shy?
You don't matter now, Jack.
- Now! - Go, Stanky! Go, Stank!
Okay.
- There you go. - Come here, baby, I got you.
Where'd you learn to move like that, at a dime-a-dance night?
It's all right, he can take it.
It's because Negro reporters aren't allowed in the press box.
Come on.
Uh...
Hey, which one of these Dodger wives are you climbing on tonight?
Listen, listen.
Hmm?
Given my whole life to it.
Oh, no, no, no, we have reservations. We're the Dodgers.
Now, Mr. Rickey set it up himself.
Aaaaaa?
Wonder how that happened.
Mr. Robinson? This is Jane Ann in Mr. Rickey's office.
A heavy plane is dangerous.
Well, what about your friends in Brooklyn?
"Didn't you see the sign on the door? No niggers allowed."
It's not supposed to mean a thing.
Slaughter's hitless in four trips. "Fireman" Casey in his second inning of relief.
...the Dodgers are going to the World Series!
It's you and me, Rae.
What are you afraid of?
Hermanski cracks a single to left...
...Yankees having already clinched in the American League.
They say they may even be illegally married.
...when the Dodger organization goes to Sanford. It's about 45 minutes away.
Put the natural fear of God in them.
You...
Do you wanna call the sheriff...
...and one man stood apart.
All right, here we go, boys!
That you practically nursed race prejudice at your mother's breast...
I know it is.
Oop, there he is. There's my boy.
Safe!
Maybe the sweetest shaving razor you'll ever use.
...than organized baseball.
Forty days.
Hey, you're looking for your locker, aren't you, son? Follow me.
We'll get our 99 gallons of gas someplace else.
It's a home run.
Right, Bobby, heh?
It's just a bunch of crackpots still fighting the Civil War.
Methodist.
Thank you.
You ever wonder why I sit down behind third base...
And you never will.
Where they sending you, Hig?
Sit down, Harold.
Thattaboy.
"Nigger lover.
Yeah, well maybe 42's got enough friends in town we can bunk up.
Outside! Outside!
He ain't scared of you, Higbe!
Batting third, playing left field, George Shuba.
Rae!
- Heh, your brother? - Ha, ha.
Robinson, waiting for the pitch.
Now, we ain't doing much today. Just tossing the ball around, hitting a few.
- Yes. - All right.
Wendell Smith.
There's not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
...are not beyond the frontiers of our homeland."
Jackie's been accepted into baseball...
You playing ball or socializing?
Give me something I can hit.
They're rusty, but we'll have them oiled up in no time, ready to go.
You're leading us, you're afraid to take a shower? Heh.
They are five games out...
You bring yourself home.
The day belongs to decent-minded people.
yee yee
How's the retirement?
Come on, now! Work the plate! Work the plate!
Robinson patient, waiting for something he can swing on.
SIMPLE TEXT SIMPLE TEXT
He is not the only man to say no.
Segregation was the law...
Wake him up and get him out of there.
I love you dot Doink Pbs kids
Go back to Brooklyn!
Brooklyn's got a solid second baseman. We got Pee Wee Reese over at short.