The basketball teams that played
for Coach Pete Newell at Cal in the late '50s were known for having each other's
back. And, apparently, that hasn't changed.
Last fall, point guard Earl
Robinson, who starred on both the basketball and baseball teams—and later went
on to play baseball for the Dodgers and Orioles—was diagnosed with end-stage
heart failure, and his Medicare hospice coverage has run out. This left
Robinson and his wife Wilma no way to pay his medical bills and living expenses.
That's when his old teammates
swung into action. Pete Domoto, Robinson's best friend since they played
together at Berkeley High—and, incidentally, a guard on the last UC Berkeley
football team to go to the Rose Bowl—called Joe Kapp, the quarterback of that
Rose Bowl team (who also played with Robinson on the basketball team), and
said, "We've got to do something to help Robbie." (It's worth noting
the racial mix, a rarity in college sports in that era: Domoto is Japanese
American, Kapp Mexican American, Robinson African American.)
They started by contacting
former Dodgers owner Peter O'Malley, who responded with a sizable private
contribution, enough to cover Robinson's expenses for a month. Major
League Baseball's Baseball Assistance Team—BAT, for short—kicked in with enough
to pay for three more months. And Robinson's teammates are coming through big
time. As of today (April 14) they have raised enough to cover another three
months, and they vow to keep at it for as long as necessary.
This comes as no surprise to
their former assistant coach, Rene Herrerias, Newell's right-hand man and
successor as head coach.
"I've never seen a team as
close as that team," he says. "They all helped each other. They even
had a secret language. For example, 'Tabroot' meant 'Look out for the backdoor.'
It makes me proud that they're still looking out for each other."
His teammates say it's just the
right sort of payback.
"Robbie was like our older
brother," says Kapp. "He was very, very helpful to us younger guys.
That's probably why, in his time of need now, the players are rising up and
supporting him."
Forward Ned Averbuck says, "It
all goes back to Pete. He delegated a lot to the seniors. They did all the
recruiting, and he also gave them responsibilities during the season. If he
felt a certain guy needed help, he had the seniors do it. And Robbie was his
archetypal senior."
Guard Earl Schulz adds, "All
the seniors adopted us, and that was Pete's way. The seniors were to set the
example, on and off the court."
Guard Denny Fitzpatrick
remembers a tough time when Robinson really came through for him. "I got
off to a slow start one year. Robbie took me aside and said, 'Look, Denny. You
can play in this league; you just have to look for your shots.' That really
turned it around for me, and I ended up having a pretty good year. He was
clearly our leader. Everybody looked up to him."
Earl John Robinson was born
November 3, 1936, in New Orleans but grew up in Berkeley, where he was known
for protecting smaller children from bullies at San Pablo Park.
After a stellar athletic career
at Berkeley High, which led a local sportswriter to dub him "The Earl of
Berkeley," he enrolled at Cal and led the basketball team to conference
titles in 1956, '57 and '58, earning a spot on the all-coast team twice and
all-conference team three times. In 1958 he served as team captain and was
voted Most Inspirational Player by his teammates.
"But as good as he was as a
basketball player, he was even better as a baseball player," says Schulz.
On the diamond, he led Cal to
the 1957 NCAA championship with a .352 batting average. He didn't go out for
football, but he was a familiar figure on the sidelines in his role as Head
Yell Leader, a job he took at the request of his roommate, Joe Kapp.
"Some of the Bears in the
stands were sitting on their butts," Kapp says. "So I said, 'Earl,
why don't you fire these people up a bit?' It was a wonderful example of his
spirit. I know our team appreciated that this guy, who everyone knew was a
great athlete, was enthusiastically supporting us."
Averbuck remembers the story a
bit differently: "The men's rooting section was a misogynistic, wild bunch
of crazy drunkards by the end of the game, especially if Cal wasn't winning.
Robbie helped control that stuff. He had the respect to calm 5,000 crazy guys down."
Kapp has one other vivid memory
of his old roommate: "He was a very, very sharp dresser. He had two
bedrooms—one for him, and one for this clothes."
But Robinson's time at Cal wasn't
idyllic. As one of the first African Americans to play for the university, he
was subjected to taunts and slurs from opposing players, and sometimes worse.
But his teammates had his back.
"I remember one game
against USC when they were deliberately trying to injure him," says guard
Bob Dalton. "In the locker room at halftime, Pete looked around and said, 'Where's Joe?'
"We finally found Joe in
the USC locker room. He told them, 'If you do one more thing to him, I'm going
to be looking for you outside after the game.' And when Joe Kapp sticks his
finger in your face in those days, boy, you'd better listen!"
It worked. "Nobody got
within a foot and a half of me the whole second half," laughs Robinson,
who also could take care of himself when the occasion warranted it.
"There was a baseball game
against USC when they were yelling some really ugly things at him while we were
doing fielding drills before the game," says Dalton. "So he started
firing balls into their dugout. The first time, everyone popped out, wondering
what was going on. Another grounder, same thing. Robbie didn't hear another
word the rest of the game. We were all laughing."
Earl Robinson's baseball card
He graduated in 1958 and signed
with the Dodgers. This was before anyone had heard of sports agents, but he
asked Cal law professor Adrian Kragen to negotiate for him, resulting in a
$75,000 signing bonus at a time other African American ballplayers like Hank
Aaron and Willie Davis routinely were forced to settle for less than $10,000.
(Davis signed for $2,000 and a used Buick sedan for his mother.)
Robinson later played for the
Baltimore Orioles and retired in 1965 with a .268 batting average. But even
before retirement he had already embarked on his second career as an educator.
He returned to Cal in 1963 as
assistant basketball coach, then became head basketball coach at Merritt
College in 1966, the first African American basketball coach in the California
junior college system. A year later he moved to Laney College, compiling a 19-8
record before returning to Cal a year later as head freshman basketball coach.
He later taught speech and
communications classes at Laney and is credited with helping to craft Rickey
Henderson's acceptance speech for the baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony
in 2010.
In the 1980s he worked with the
Oakland A's as director of special projects and taught English at Castlemont
High School. He is a former vice president for the Oakland Zoo's board of
trustees and served three years on the Cal Alumni Association's board of
directors. And he served on the Alameda County Grand Jury and on the board
of directors of the South Berkeley YMCA, Oakland Police Athletic Association
YMCA, and the Oakland Boys and Girls Club.
He was inducted into the Cal
Athletic Hall of Fame in 1988 and the Pac-10 Hall of Honor in 2010. And in 2011
he received the Pete Newell Career Achievement Award.
Now, as he faces the toughest
opponent of all, he draws strength from the love and support of his teammates. "They
keep my spirits up," he says, "and they're just generous people."
Everyone except Pete Domoto
agrees on one thing: The indispensable man in this effort has been Pete Domoto.
"Pete is the driving force, the only reason this is happening," says
Schulz. "Nobody could have a better friend than Robbie has in Pete Domoto."
Dalton agrees. "Every member
of our team is so overwhelmed by what Pete has done here. I'm 77, and I have
never seen a man more dedicated to an individual and his family."
And Robbie knows it. "He's
like my brother. I grew up in his house more than I did in my own house. I
think about him and I cry sometimes because he's been so loyal, so loving, so
wise in the decisions he's made. I don't know how to thank him enough. I try,
and we both start crying."
Everyone knows this story won't
have a happy ending. But they're determined to make their old friend's final
days as happy as possible. 'I have such great respect for Earl,' says
Fitzpatrick. "He is a great man, and he's taking his travails like a real man."
For his part, Robinson is
philosophical. "I'm not sad. I know I'm impacted by the grace of God. So
if I have a day, a week or a month, I should be thankful about that. My doctors
have been straight up with me. I'm probably dying. I'm not ready to give it up
yet; but when I do, I'm cool with that."
Those
who would like to make a contribution to this effort should send a check
made out to Dennis Fitzpatrick, 1689 Comstock Ave., Los Angeles, CA 90024.
Please include a declaration that your contribution is for Earl Robinson.
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