What do you think?
Rate this book
Branch Rickey: Baseball's Ferocious Gentleman
He was not much of a player and not much more of a manager, but by the time Branch Rickey (1881–1965) finished with baseball, he had revolutionized the sport—not just once but three times. In this definitive biography of Rickey—the man sportswriters dubbed “The Brain,” “The Mahatma,” and, on occasion, “El Cheapo”—Lee Lowenfish tells the full and colorful story of a life that forever changed the face of America’s game.
As the mastermind behind the Saint Louis Cardinals from 1917 to 1942, Rickey created the farm system, which allowed small-market clubs to compete with the rich and powerful. Under his direction in the 1940s, the Brooklyn Dodgers became truly the first “America’s team.” By signing Jackie Robinson and other black players, he single-handedly thrust baseball into the forefront of the civil rights movement. Lowenfish evokes the peculiarly American complex of God, family, and baseball that informed Rickey’s actions and his accomplishments. His book offers an intriguing, richly detailed portrait of a man whose life is itself a crucial chapter in the history of American business, sport, and society.
As the mastermind behind the Saint Louis Cardinals from 1917 to 1942, Rickey created the farm system, which allowed small-market clubs to compete with the rich and powerful. Under his direction in the 1940s, the Brooklyn Dodgers became truly the first “America’s team.” By signing Jackie Robinson and other black players, he single-handedly thrust baseball into the forefront of the civil rights movement. Lowenfish evokes the peculiarly American complex of God, family, and baseball that informed Rickey’s actions and his accomplishments. His book offers an intriguing, richly detailed portrait of a man whose life is itself a crucial chapter in the history of American business, sport, and society.
728 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2007
5 people are currently reading
144 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
July 20, 2023
Branch Rickey is known almost solely for one thing today: bringing Jackie Robinson up in 1947 with the Brooklyn Dodgers, thereby integrating Major League Baseball. But as Leo Lowenfish shows, Rickey was a true force in the game for half a century, helping to create the modern big league farm system that still largely exists today. Along the way, Rickey made many friends and some enemies (I suspect more enemies that Lowenfish lets on) given his intense focus and strong personality.
Rickey got into baseball early (shortly after the turn of the 20th century) but played very little himself. Rickey, born in Ohio, quickly found his niche as a coach and in helping to assemble teams. He coached at several colleges and also the University of Michigan for awhile before leaving the collegiate level for good and heading to St. Louis. Rickey becomes a manager for the Cardinals in Sr. Louis, and also effectively serves as the club's general manager. An ownership change to Sam Breadon causes Rickey a lot of heartburn after Breadon fires him as a manager mid-season. Rickey, who was loathe to fire anyone himself, never quite forgot this as, in the subsequent forty years, Rickey never did the same thing to anyone else.
It was in St. Louis where Rickey began to make his mark in MLB. The Cardinals were not a good organization when Rickey arrived on the scene. While Breadon did the hiring and firing of the managers, and sometimes forced trades as well, Rickey was largely left alone to oversee the baseball operations. He quickly realized that, in order to build a successful franchise, St. Louis would need to have access to and control of young players trying to break into the major leagues. He in essence wanted a player pipeline flowing from the minor league clubs into St. Louis. The man was a tireless worker (he worked on things all the way to his death - he never stopped and rarely slowed down). He assembled a top-notch scouting staff and began acquiring minor league franchises around the Eastern half of the country. While it did take some time, Rickey's system eventually paid off when the Cardinals finally won a World Series in 1926, beating the New York Yankees with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. They won again in 1931, 1934, and 1942 - that being Rickey's final year in St. Louis as Breadon and Rickey's relationship slowly disintegrated, with Breadon in essence firing Rickey by refusing to renew his contract. The Cardinals won two more titles (1944, 1946) with teams that were largely created by Rickey.
He then moved to Brooklyn and took over running the Dodgers. Rickey used his blueprint from St. Louis, turning the Dodgers into almost perpetual pennant contenders. While the Dodgers did not win a championship in Rickey's seven years there, they came close and had some really great teams, which of course later on included Robinson. And like with the Cardinals, the Dodgers did win after Rickey left: the 1955 Dodgers finally beat the Yankees, largely with players whom Rickey had brought to Brooklyn. However, in what seemed to me to be a theme of Rickey's life, he again wore out his welcome. Walter O'Malley eventually wrestled control of the Dodgers away from Rickey, and in a repeat of what Breadon did in St. Louis, refused to renew Rickey's contract as general manager.
Nonetheless, the most important thing that Rickey did during his years in Brooklyn was to give Jackie Robinson the opportunity to show the country that a black man could play, and indeed did belong in, the top level of baseball. While clearly Robinson had to endure horrific abuse from fans and other players (including a few Dodgers who refused to play with him), it was not smooth sailing for Rickey either. He was attacked for his role in bringing Robinson up. Many of the owners, a very conservative group, wanted no part of this. Some of it was economics (they worried that black would start coming out to the ballparks to see Robinson play, thus dissuading whites from coming). A lot of it was flat-out racism. In an era where many whites were not even willing to share a bus or a lunch counter with a black person, Rickey's color-blindness on race is refreshing.
Rickey, who did make his share of mistakes on player evaluations despite his mostly successful track record, knew what he was doing when he chose Robinson. He had a strong inkling of what the ballplayer would face, and he wanted someone with the mental stamina who could mostly turn the other cheek, shutting up the detractors with his great play and how he carried himself. Rickey, who treated Robinson as sort of a son, did not want someone who had a short temper, who would lash back out at the racists and critics. He knew that if that happened, it would only set the cause of integration back, and thus harm blacks overall in their constant struggle for equality.
As one could imagine, this was a controversial move at the time, and even after Rickey was proved to be correct, there were still some in the game who did not like what he did. Ultimately though, his exit from Brooklyn was due to a power struggle with the ambitious and greedy O'Malley. But Rickey immediately landed on his feet again, this time taking over as general manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1951. This was the beginning of a downhill slide in Rickey's career. By now 70 years-old, Rickey came to a team that was horrible, a perennial last-place or near last-place finisher for over a decade. Rickey had no players that he could call up either, as the Pirates did not have a strong farm system like the ones Rickey had built in St. Louis and Brooklyn. These were years of frustration for Rickey, and even though the Pirates slowly improved under him, at the end of his five year contract following the 1955 season, he was once again not renewed for another go as general manager. But Rickey had put his usual good scouting and player development system into place, and when the Pirates won the 1960 World Series, Rickey had at least partially helped build that team.
Following his exit as general manager, Rickey spent the final decade of his life in professional frustration, living on the periphery of baseball. He was in essence a minister without portfolio as he served a mostly meaningless role through the late 1950s as a consultant for the Pirates, and then returned to the Cardinals in the early 1960s for a few years in the same capacity: a consultant who nobody else really wanted around, and who more or less meddled and interfered with the front office. In between those two stints, he became president of the never-really-formed Continental League, which Rickey and his associates wanted as a third league to rival the American and National Leagues. It never really got off the ground as the existing MLB owners had no reason to welcome a third league, and only reluctantly allowed expansion in their own leagues for fear that if they did not, then Congress might step in and remove baseball's coveted anti-trust protection. Rickey by this point was approaching 80 and in declining health. But even had he been in his prime, I don't see how this would have ever come off.
I have to say that I very much came to dislike Rickey. I found him to be an opportunist who used people, often for his own ends. And sometimes they would benefit too. But that only worked if Rickey benefited (one example is the combustible Dodgers manager, Leo Durocher). He consistently abused the reserve clause that was then in effect in MLB; essentially the clubs had all of the power over the players. There was no free agency. Rickey upset many players with his miserly approach to contracts. One of the Brooklyn sportswriters nicknamed him "El Cheapo", accusing him of never wanting to pay to actually win, but only to run a close second and give the allusion of winning.
This is a man who was polarizing: players either loved him or hated him. While Lowenfish does mention both, he heavily tilts it towards those who loved Rickey. Rickey was a do-gooder and someone who shoved his ultra-conservative religious principles down everyone else's throats. He looked down on those who were unmarried, calling them "matrimonial cowards". His behavior today would - or at least should - not be tolerated. He would immediately pry into the private lives on his players, interrogating them about if they were married and if not why not and imploring them to get married as soon as possible, and asking about their family background and their habits. It was clear to me that he looked down his nose at almost everyone who wasn't a teetotaler, devoted Christian like he was. He famously refused to go to the ballpark on Sundays.
The fact that he had similar exits in St. Louis, Brooklyn, and Pittsburgh tells me that he must have been a difficult person to work with. That isn't to say that is all his fault. Lowenfish does not paint a glowing portrait of Breadon. And as far as O'Malley goes, he does not exactly enjoy a great reputation because he uprooted the Dodgers and moved them across the country to LA. I sense that those guys weren't nice either. So it is no surprise that Rickey butted heads with them. But when it happened again in Pittsburgh, I had to ask myself "This guy was not asked back in three separate cities, despite having a mostly successful record to show for his endeavors. Why? That seems to be a pattern, and the common denominator is Rickey."
Lowenfish is mostly favorable to Rickey, emphasizing his positive attributes (he was very generous with charity, and he helped many ballplayers in need; he also volunteered and served in WWI) much more than the negative ones. The negative side wasn't ignored, yet Lowenfish would quickly move on and then focus again on the positive side. He also repeatedly referred to Rickey as the "ferocious gentleman", which is of course the subheading in the title. But, after you read that phrase for the 30th time, you don't need to read it again. Truthfully, he probably wrote it more than 30 times as he was constantly using it, to the point of distraction. Lowenfish also repeatedly used a frequent saying of Rickey's: "trouble ahead, trouble ahead". Again, it was used far too often and eventually lost its effectiveness.
Lowenfish did do a good job of grounding Rickey in his Ohio roots, and also focusing on how important Rickey's family was to him. He was very devoted to his parents, his siblings, his wife, his children, and his grandchildren. An admirable trait, to be sure. But one thing was always clear: Rickey was not comfortable unless he was in charge, and he made sure everyone else knew it. Rickey's part in the Robinson saga alone makes him worthwhile to read about as a significant figure in sports history, even if I didn't personally come away with a positive impression of the man, despite Lowenfish's best efforts to convince me otherwise.
Grade: C+
Rickey got into baseball early (shortly after the turn of the 20th century) but played very little himself. Rickey, born in Ohio, quickly found his niche as a coach and in helping to assemble teams. He coached at several colleges and also the University of Michigan for awhile before leaving the collegiate level for good and heading to St. Louis. Rickey becomes a manager for the Cardinals in Sr. Louis, and also effectively serves as the club's general manager. An ownership change to Sam Breadon causes Rickey a lot of heartburn after Breadon fires him as a manager mid-season. Rickey, who was loathe to fire anyone himself, never quite forgot this as, in the subsequent forty years, Rickey never did the same thing to anyone else.
It was in St. Louis where Rickey began to make his mark in MLB. The Cardinals were not a good organization when Rickey arrived on the scene. While Breadon did the hiring and firing of the managers, and sometimes forced trades as well, Rickey was largely left alone to oversee the baseball operations. He quickly realized that, in order to build a successful franchise, St. Louis would need to have access to and control of young players trying to break into the major leagues. He in essence wanted a player pipeline flowing from the minor league clubs into St. Louis. The man was a tireless worker (he worked on things all the way to his death - he never stopped and rarely slowed down). He assembled a top-notch scouting staff and began acquiring minor league franchises around the Eastern half of the country. While it did take some time, Rickey's system eventually paid off when the Cardinals finally won a World Series in 1926, beating the New York Yankees with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. They won again in 1931, 1934, and 1942 - that being Rickey's final year in St. Louis as Breadon and Rickey's relationship slowly disintegrated, with Breadon in essence firing Rickey by refusing to renew his contract. The Cardinals won two more titles (1944, 1946) with teams that were largely created by Rickey.
He then moved to Brooklyn and took over running the Dodgers. Rickey used his blueprint from St. Louis, turning the Dodgers into almost perpetual pennant contenders. While the Dodgers did not win a championship in Rickey's seven years there, they came close and had some really great teams, which of course later on included Robinson. And like with the Cardinals, the Dodgers did win after Rickey left: the 1955 Dodgers finally beat the Yankees, largely with players whom Rickey had brought to Brooklyn. However, in what seemed to me to be a theme of Rickey's life, he again wore out his welcome. Walter O'Malley eventually wrestled control of the Dodgers away from Rickey, and in a repeat of what Breadon did in St. Louis, refused to renew Rickey's contract as general manager.
Nonetheless, the most important thing that Rickey did during his years in Brooklyn was to give Jackie Robinson the opportunity to show the country that a black man could play, and indeed did belong in, the top level of baseball. While clearly Robinson had to endure horrific abuse from fans and other players (including a few Dodgers who refused to play with him), it was not smooth sailing for Rickey either. He was attacked for his role in bringing Robinson up. Many of the owners, a very conservative group, wanted no part of this. Some of it was economics (they worried that black would start coming out to the ballparks to see Robinson play, thus dissuading whites from coming). A lot of it was flat-out racism. In an era where many whites were not even willing to share a bus or a lunch counter with a black person, Rickey's color-blindness on race is refreshing.
Rickey, who did make his share of mistakes on player evaluations despite his mostly successful track record, knew what he was doing when he chose Robinson. He had a strong inkling of what the ballplayer would face, and he wanted someone with the mental stamina who could mostly turn the other cheek, shutting up the detractors with his great play and how he carried himself. Rickey, who treated Robinson as sort of a son, did not want someone who had a short temper, who would lash back out at the racists and critics. He knew that if that happened, it would only set the cause of integration back, and thus harm blacks overall in their constant struggle for equality.
As one could imagine, this was a controversial move at the time, and even after Rickey was proved to be correct, there were still some in the game who did not like what he did. Ultimately though, his exit from Brooklyn was due to a power struggle with the ambitious and greedy O'Malley. But Rickey immediately landed on his feet again, this time taking over as general manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1951. This was the beginning of a downhill slide in Rickey's career. By now 70 years-old, Rickey came to a team that was horrible, a perennial last-place or near last-place finisher for over a decade. Rickey had no players that he could call up either, as the Pirates did not have a strong farm system like the ones Rickey had built in St. Louis and Brooklyn. These were years of frustration for Rickey, and even though the Pirates slowly improved under him, at the end of his five year contract following the 1955 season, he was once again not renewed for another go as general manager. But Rickey had put his usual good scouting and player development system into place, and when the Pirates won the 1960 World Series, Rickey had at least partially helped build that team.
Following his exit as general manager, Rickey spent the final decade of his life in professional frustration, living on the periphery of baseball. He was in essence a minister without portfolio as he served a mostly meaningless role through the late 1950s as a consultant for the Pirates, and then returned to the Cardinals in the early 1960s for a few years in the same capacity: a consultant who nobody else really wanted around, and who more or less meddled and interfered with the front office. In between those two stints, he became president of the never-really-formed Continental League, which Rickey and his associates wanted as a third league to rival the American and National Leagues. It never really got off the ground as the existing MLB owners had no reason to welcome a third league, and only reluctantly allowed expansion in their own leagues for fear that if they did not, then Congress might step in and remove baseball's coveted anti-trust protection. Rickey by this point was approaching 80 and in declining health. But even had he been in his prime, I don't see how this would have ever come off.
I have to say that I very much came to dislike Rickey. I found him to be an opportunist who used people, often for his own ends. And sometimes they would benefit too. But that only worked if Rickey benefited (one example is the combustible Dodgers manager, Leo Durocher). He consistently abused the reserve clause that was then in effect in MLB; essentially the clubs had all of the power over the players. There was no free agency. Rickey upset many players with his miserly approach to contracts. One of the Brooklyn sportswriters nicknamed him "El Cheapo", accusing him of never wanting to pay to actually win, but only to run a close second and give the allusion of winning.
This is a man who was polarizing: players either loved him or hated him. While Lowenfish does mention both, he heavily tilts it towards those who loved Rickey. Rickey was a do-gooder and someone who shoved his ultra-conservative religious principles down everyone else's throats. He looked down on those who were unmarried, calling them "matrimonial cowards". His behavior today would - or at least should - not be tolerated. He would immediately pry into the private lives on his players, interrogating them about if they were married and if not why not and imploring them to get married as soon as possible, and asking about their family background and their habits. It was clear to me that he looked down his nose at almost everyone who wasn't a teetotaler, devoted Christian like he was. He famously refused to go to the ballpark on Sundays.
The fact that he had similar exits in St. Louis, Brooklyn, and Pittsburgh tells me that he must have been a difficult person to work with. That isn't to say that is all his fault. Lowenfish does not paint a glowing portrait of Breadon. And as far as O'Malley goes, he does not exactly enjoy a great reputation because he uprooted the Dodgers and moved them across the country to LA. I sense that those guys weren't nice either. So it is no surprise that Rickey butted heads with them. But when it happened again in Pittsburgh, I had to ask myself "This guy was not asked back in three separate cities, despite having a mostly successful record to show for his endeavors. Why? That seems to be a pattern, and the common denominator is Rickey."
Lowenfish is mostly favorable to Rickey, emphasizing his positive attributes (he was very generous with charity, and he helped many ballplayers in need; he also volunteered and served in WWI) much more than the negative ones. The negative side wasn't ignored, yet Lowenfish would quickly move on and then focus again on the positive side. He also repeatedly referred to Rickey as the "ferocious gentleman", which is of course the subheading in the title. But, after you read that phrase for the 30th time, you don't need to read it again. Truthfully, he probably wrote it more than 30 times as he was constantly using it, to the point of distraction. Lowenfish also repeatedly used a frequent saying of Rickey's: "trouble ahead, trouble ahead". Again, it was used far too often and eventually lost its effectiveness.
Lowenfish did do a good job of grounding Rickey in his Ohio roots, and also focusing on how important Rickey's family was to him. He was very devoted to his parents, his siblings, his wife, his children, and his grandchildren. An admirable trait, to be sure. But one thing was always clear: Rickey was not comfortable unless he was in charge, and he made sure everyone else knew it. Rickey's part in the Robinson saga alone makes him worthwhile to read about as a significant figure in sports history, even if I didn't personally come away with a positive impression of the man, despite Lowenfish's best efforts to convince me otherwise.
Grade: C+
Read
August 7, 2011640 pages! good lord! i mean, it's interesting and i'm enjoying it, but it's keeping me from the other 30 books i'd like to get to before school starts.
so -- now I'm finished, and smarter than when I started it. it was a slog, but it was a fruitful slog. i think that i like walter o'malley even less now.
so -- now I'm finished, and smarter than when I started it. it was a slog, but it was a fruitful slog. i think that i like walter o'malley even less now.
April 7, 2021
This was a fantastic book. I learned so much about Rickey. I liked reading about his years in Pittsburgh and his second tenure in St. Louis. From reading other books, I believed he tried a power play in 1964 to try to be the GM there again. The opposite was true. I also learned that he started the process of bringing African Americans to the majors almost as soon as he got to Brooklyn. Can't recommend this book highly enough.
March 8, 2023
Author Lee Lowenfish makes it look easy- this massive tome about one of baseball’s most influential executives hums from one page to the next for a large bulk of its roughly 600 pages. Of course, one need only look at the racks and racks of far shorter, far duller baseball biographies to realize Mr. Lowenfish’s feat is no easy one at all. That said, it is still a roughly 600 page book about a baseball executive, and can’t help but drag in places. Less committed readers may jump ship somewhere amid the very detailed, very lengthy descriptions of Rickey’s 20s and 30s Cardinals teams. There is also the distinct feeling of Filler in the book’s latter half as the story is padded out by charming but largely irrelevant personal stories from Rickey family members that Lowenfish surely picked up during his exhaustive interview and research process. Given Rickey’s embrace of the more advanced statistics of the day, real baseball nerds may also snicker at the repeated barometer for a successful season being measured in RBI for hitters and, worse, Wins/Losses for pitchers- stats most realize now that don’t paint much of a picture of individual performance.
Nevertheless, the portrait of Rickey that arises from these pages feels complete (albeit a bit hagiographic- we’re constantly reminded how tireless, how principled, what a sturdy family man he was with nary a really discouraging word throughout) and compelling. A baseball lifer, a famed penny pincher who knew when to spend big when it mattered, an arch reactionary who spearheaded baseball’s most progressive and forward thinking ideas- if you love baseball Rickey’s life and words are worth studying and worth cherishing, and for those purposes this book is a must-read.
Nevertheless, the portrait of Rickey that arises from these pages feels complete (albeit a bit hagiographic- we’re constantly reminded how tireless, how principled, what a sturdy family man he was with nary a really discouraging word throughout) and compelling. A baseball lifer, a famed penny pincher who knew when to spend big when it mattered, an arch reactionary who spearheaded baseball’s most progressive and forward thinking ideas- if you love baseball Rickey’s life and words are worth studying and worth cherishing, and for those purposes this book is a must-read.
April 25, 2021
Branch Rickey is one of the very few most impactful figures in baseball history -- he signed Jackie Robinson to be the first black player, he created the modern minor league player development system, he was one of the first stats-savvy people in a front office (though that isn't mentioned at all in this book), and he built two borderline dynasties. So if this was the only biography written about Rickey, it would be worth reading. But it's not, and there must be a better one out there -- there are some good facts here, but it's very focused on Rickey's personal life and feelings rather than the massive impact he had on baseball, and it's extremely repetitive -- I wanted to scream when some version of "Rickey could only root for [some other team] to represent the National League in the World Series" was written separately for every single year.
A few facts:
- Rickey also was the first to have pitchers shag batting practice to stay in shape, which still lives on as one of baseball's more random ubiquitous traditions
- His search to sign the first black player in baseball was accelerated in part by an anti-discrimination law passed in New York in early 1945
- His falling out with famous manager Leo Durocher was driven in part by the Catholic Youth Organization (!), which supported the Dodgers in many ways and thought Durocher was a poor role model
A few facts:
- Rickey also was the first to have pitchers shag batting practice to stay in shape, which still lives on as one of baseball's more random ubiquitous traditions
- His search to sign the first black player in baseball was accelerated in part by an anti-discrimination law passed in New York in early 1945
- His falling out with famous manager Leo Durocher was driven in part by the Catholic Youth Organization (!), which supported the Dodgers in many ways and thought Durocher was a poor role model
August 2, 2007
It's a good thing when a biographer comes to like his subject. But as this book shows, it's not so good when a biographer becomes so enraptured with his subject that he starts constantly referring to him as the "paterfamilias" and repeating endless tedious stories about him playing with his grandchildren. It's all the more of a shame because Rickey is a fascinating subject with outsized faults and virtues. But far too much of the time Lowenfish tells only one side. At least he does a very solid job of telling that side.
August 10, 2016
On the positive side, it was informative and in-depth.
On the negative side, it could have used an editor. There were a lot of errors, both factual and contextual in this book. Furthermore, I believe the book might have been half the size if the author had stopped incessantly referring to Rickey as "the ferocious gentleman." All in all, it was a tedious and frustrating read.
On the negative side, it could have used an editor. There were a lot of errors, both factual and contextual in this book. Furthermore, I believe the book might have been half the size if the author had stopped incessantly referring to Rickey as "the ferocious gentleman." All in all, it was a tedious and frustrating read.
March 19, 2021
An insightful look into one of Baseball most innovative executives, Lee Lowenfish looks at the life and times of Branch Rickey, one of the most seminal people in creating the modern sporting industry. From his establishment of the farm system, to his historic integration of the game with the signing of Jackie Robinson, Ricky's involvement with four teams (the St. Louis Browns and Cardinals, the Brooklyn Dodgers, and the Pittsburgh Pirates) led them all to championship seasons either during or right after Rickey's involvement with the team. Though his accomplishments are many, his biography remains shrouded due to the unrelenting nature of the sporting business. This book not only pulls back the curtain, but also sheds some light as to his manner, character, and his incredible rise to be one of the wealthiest men in the sporting world.
January 1, 2021
One of the greats of baseball. Well written authoritative account of the man who did more for baseball than any other single individual. He was truly a gentleman and a scholar. If had not chosen baseball he could have been President.
February 25, 2025
Those that enjoy reading about the history of baseball will enjoy this well written book.
June 25, 2025
Could have had more about his life and less about the different series games that went into great detail.
July 26, 2017
I learned that this book started out as a dissertation and it has that feel, less personal and moving, and more chronological, than it might be. But I really enjoyed learning about Rickey the teacher, the athlete, the husband, manager, and innovator. I believe Branch Rickey had something to do with my father going to Ohio Wesleyan for one year, the year he met my mother. My dad was an avid Brooklyn Dodgers fan in his formative years in the 1940s when Rickey was the GM. And Rickey had strong ties to Ohio Wesleyan.
So interesting too to learn more about the early baseball people who I've heard of all my life--Chomisky, Wagner, Dizzy Dean, Leo Durocher...
So interesting too to learn more about the early baseball people who I've heard of all my life--Chomisky, Wagner, Dizzy Dean, Leo Durocher...
August 9, 2013
This is a great read for baseball fans who are interested in the history of the game. Branch Rickey was a man who did what God put him on earth to do--invent the farm system and integrate Major League Baseball. He succeeded admirably.
February 13, 2015
Cou,d have used an editor!
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews