There’s a telling line in the documentary Nine Innings from Ground Zero. Curt Schilling, reflecting on pitching in Yankee Stadium during the 2001 World Series, said: “If they boo you as a visiting player, that just means you don’t suck.”
In other words, to be jeered by New York fans is, in its own way, a sign of respect. You matter. You’re dangerous. You’re worth the noise.
Sometimes we show respect in strange ways. And two recent events in baseball have given me pause to think a little more about how we show respect and why it matters.
In Major League Baseball, April 15 is Jackie Robinson Day. It's not just tax day, it's a day to honor Robinson's 1947 debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers. 4/15 is a day when MLB's color barrier was broken. However, it's worth noting that Robinson's career was not always marked by signs of respect. He endured hostility in the form of racist remarks, derogatory slurs and taunting. The abuse he endured was, tragically, a backhanded acknowledgment of his impact. He is an American hero—a man that children still learn about and study in school and beyond.
Baseball—the American pastime—has made meaningful efforts to reckon with its past. For example, statistics from the Negro Leagues are now officially included in the Major League Baseball historical record and recognized by the Baseball Hall of Fame. On Jackie Robinson Day, all players, coaches, and on-field staff wear Robinson’s number, 42—the only number permanently retired across MLB. The result is a powerful, league-wide visual tribute in every stadium at once. Optics matter. At the ballpark, fans watch video tributes and hear stories that highlight Robinson’s impact and enduring example. These efforts help ensure that Jackie Robinson Day is not just commemorated, but truly honored. To me, respect never goes out of style.
But what got me thinking about respect was a comment from one of my seniors. His “Sports in the News” presentation featured the Tigers’ closer, Kenley Jansen, who recorded his 479th career save on April 14. Jonah walked into class and said, “I should have featured Jackie Robinson on Jackie Robinson Day.” I assured him it wasn’t a problem; I had created a slide honoring Rachel Robinson, Jackie’s wife, who is 103 years old.
Then I added, “And for what it’s worth, I hate Kenley Jansen.”
My student looked at me quizzically.
“He played for the Dodgers, right? Put a whole lot of hurt on the Giants.”
He smiled.
“My hatred,” I added, “is a sign of respect.”
He understood.
Congratulations are certainly in order for Jansen—he is now number three on the all-time save list, behind Mariano Rivera (the last #42 in MLB) and Trevor Hoffman. But this Giants fan can't forget who benefitted from this milestone: those pesky Dodgers! Hey! loyalty and fandom don’t go out of style either.
Regular readers of this blog know that an important part of my summer is my annual pilgrimage to South Lake Tahoe for the American Century Championship golf tournament. It features athletes, actors, news anchors, and musicians—perhaps they should add a “C” for “celebrity” to their official billing.
One time, I was sitting beside a green when former Phillie and National outfielder Jayson Werth walked by. We made eye contact.
“I hated you when you were with the Phillies,” I told him.
“You a Mets fan?” he asked.
“No—I’m a Giants fan. You always put the hurt on.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate the hatred.”
We both laughed. The respect was obvious.
Respect doesn’t always arrive as celebration. Sometimes it comes as resistance, as noise, even as rejection. But underneath it is recognition.
And maybe the question worth asking is this: Are we paying attention to the ways respect shows up—even when it doesn’t look the way we expect?
Photo Credits
Jansen
42
Boo
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