[SelzShoes]

[NOTE] As I've said before, the Spring Training post are NOT chonological[/NOTE]

“Where do you boys think you’re going,” Rogers Hornsby held his arm out as the trio started to enter the bus. The three negroes—Josh Gibson, Lennie Pearson, and Larry Doby–had expected a confrontation from a teammate at some point, but not their manager. The plan, as agreed upon by the group, was to not confront any hostility, to let the moment go. The players on and around the bus gathered quickly. Gibson refused to allow the group to be humiliated in front of the club.

“We’re getting on the bus to the game,” his face and chest now inches from the Rajah.

Hornsby chuckled and spat at the ground. “No, you’re not getting on this bus.” He licked his fingers like a gunfighter of old. “This bus is for veterans; you boys belong on that bus.” His thumb jerked back to the beat-up, patched-up and generally ill maintained vehicle the rookies were expected to take. Luxury was for men who had earned it.

“I’ve been playing longer than some of those kids have been alive.” The black Babe Ruth felt Pearson and Doby take his arms to pull back. Together they still did not have the strength to move him.

Hornsby cocked his cap, “How many hits you got n----r?” Pearson gripped Gibson’s right arm as tightly as he could, trying to hold back the uncoiling power. “How many?”

“I got more hits than you can count cracker.”

Hornsby didn’t move. “Funny, never seen your name among the league leaders. See, the games we play count for something—not just getting hooch money.” Hornsby pressed even closer to Gibson, “Now, if you can show me anything showing you’ve played in the Pacific, American or National League—then you can ride in this bus. Until then, you ride with the rookies.”

“You know I can’t show you that,” Gibson’s teeth were clinched so tight, they almost exploded in his mouth.

Pearson started to pull harder on Josh. “This isn’t the time Josh, this isn’t the time,” Lennie kept repeating. Even as his stance softened, Gibson’s glare did not.

Hornsby turned to the white rookies, “See that. Everyone falls in line behind me. Is that clear?”