Excerpt
Jackie Robinson andlt;link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../styles/9781481413831.css"andgt; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;img src="../images/big.jpg" alt="Images"andgt;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;h2 andgt;FIGHTING BACKandlt;/h2andgt; andlt;BRandgt;SWEEPand#160;.and#160;.and#160;. SWEEPand#160;.and#160;.and#160;. sweepand#160;.and#160;.and#160;.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Eight-year-old Jackie Robinson brushed the big broom across the sidewalk in front of his little house on Pepper Street in Pasadena, California. All five of the Robinson children had a job they had to do every day. Jackieand#8217;s job was to keep the sidewalk spotless.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;It wasnand#8217;t a hard job. In fact, Jackie was having fun. He pretended that his broom was a hockey stick, and he fired a slap shot into an imaginary net. Whack! The dirt flew into the andlt;a id="page_2"andgt;andlt;/aandgt;street. Then he pretended his broom was a golf club, and he drove a tee shot far down an imaginary fairway. Wham!andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;It was October 1927. Jackie had heard about a famous baseball player named Babe Ruth who hit an amazing sixty home runs that season. Nobody had ever done that before. Jackie pretended his broom was a baseball bat, and he cracked a home run over an imaginary centerfield fence. Smash! The dirt went flying off the sidewalk.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;It was a joyful time. Jackie was lost in his thoughts and fantasies, imagining that he was a famous athlete.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Suddenly, a girl about Jackieand#8217;s age came out of her house down the street. She saw Jackie. Her face immediately twisted up into a scowl and she spat out just one word. and#8220;Nigger!and#8221;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;With that one word, Jackieand#8217;s mood changed andlt;a id="page_3"andgt;andlt;/aandgt;instantly. The happiness he had been feeling washed away from him. It was replaced by anger, a deep anger that began to well up inside him.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Jackie had heard the word before, but nobody had ever said it to him. He knew it was a bad word. It was a word that some white people would use against people who looked like Jackieand#8212;people who had dark skin.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;That girl doesnand#8217;t even know me,and#8221; Jackie thought to himself as he stared at her. and#8220;We never talked. Why is she calling me names? How can she possibly dislike me so much?and#8221;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Jackie was too young to understand how people of different races and ethnic groups sometimes donand#8217;t get along together. It didnand#8217;t make sense to him. People were just people. Why should somebodyand#8217;s skin color have anything to do with the kind of person he or she andlt;a id="page_4"andgt;andlt;/aandgt;was? But the girl had made him very mad, and he wanted to make her mad right back.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;He remembered something his older brother Frank once told him. Frank said that back in Georgia, where the Robinsons used to live, the worst thing you could call a white person was and#8220;cracker.and#8221;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Cracker!and#8221; Jackie yelled at the girl. She ran back into her house and slammed the door.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Jackie went back to his sidewalk sweeping and forgot about the girl. He pretended that his broom was a tennis racquet, and he smacked a backhand across an imaginary court. Slam!andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;At that moment a rock whizzed past Jackieand#8217;s head. It smacked into the tree behind him with a thud. Jackie stiffened. He spun around to see where the rock might have come from. A man was standing in front of the girland#8217;s house. He was staring at Jackie. and#8220;It must be her father,and#8221; Jackie thought.