Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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