42 Page #4

RICKEY (CONT’D)

He looks proud. Willful. *

SUKEFORTH:

He'll need to be.

Rickey looks back to Jack who is as angry as he is confused.

RICKEY:

I want to win! I want ballplayers

who can win! Are you one of them?!

JACK:

Yes.

RICKEY:

A black man in white baseball.

Imagine the reaction. The vitriol.

Rickey strides forward, gets in his face.

RICKEY (CONT’D)

The Dodgers check into a hotel. A

decent good hotel. You’re worn out

from the road and some clerk won't

give you the pen to sign in.

(Southern drawl)

We got no room, boy, not even down

in the coal bin where you belong.

BLUE REV 4-07-12 10.

Jack looks like he wants to tear Rickey apart.

RICKEY (CONT’D)

The team stops at a restaurant.

The waiter won't take your order.

(adopts a new voice)

Didn't you see the sign on the

door? No animals allowed. *

(looming)

What are you going to do then?

Fight him? Ruin all my plans?

Answer me, you black sonofabitch!

JACK:

(masters himself)

Do you want a ballplayer who

doesn’t have the guts to fight

back? Is that what you want?

RICKEY:

I want one who has the guts not to

fight back! There are people who

will not like this. They will do

anything to get you to react. If

you echo a curse with a curse, they

will only hear yours. Follow a

blow with a blow and they will say

a Negro lost his temper; that the

Negro does not belong. Your enemy

will be out in force, but you can

not meet him on his own low ground.

We win with hitting, running and

fielding, nothing else. We win if

the world is convinced of two

things:
that you are a fine

gentlemen and a great ballplayer.

Like our Savior, you must have the

guts to turn the other cheek.

Jack considers Rickey. Rickey looks worn out.

RICKEY (CONT’D)

Can you do it?

Jack poised at what will be his Rubicon. He crosses.

JACK:

Mr. Rickey, you give me a uniform,

you give me a number on my back,

and I’ll give you the guts.

CUT TO:

PINK REV 4-19-12 1111.

9 INT. HALLWAY - ISUM HOUSE - LOS ANGELES - DAY 9

A phone RINGS on a table. RACHEL ISUM steps in, 23,

possessed of style that you can only be graced with.

Hello?

RACHEL:

CUT TO:

10 INT. LOBBY PAYPHONE - 215 MONTAGUE STREET - BROOKLYN - DAY10

Jack in a PHONE BOOTH, the lobby busy beyond.

JACK:

Rae, I’m in Brooklyn.

INTERCUT THE FOLLOWING:

Brooklyn?

RACHEL:

For what?

JACK:

I don’t want to say on the phone.

In fact, I’m not supposed to tell

anyone.

She can hear the tingle in his voice.

Jack?

RACHEL:

*

JACK:

I’m here, Rae

*

*

RACHEL:

What’s going on? You’re supposed

to be playing in Chicago?

*

*

*

JACK:

We’ve been tested you and me. Our

loyalty, our faith. We’ve done

everything the right way. Me

trying to make money. You

finishing school. Separated by thewar, now by baseball. We don’t owe

the world a thing. Only each other.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

She’s actually getting a little scared now. *

RACHEL:

Jack, what are you talking about?

What happened?

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