After seeing 42, I heard and read too many good things about Opening Day to resist it, and I'm glad I didn't. It is the perfect antidote to the sappy pablum of 42, and I can't imagine another Robinson book being better than this one.
More than two decades before the civil rights legislation of the 60s and more than ten years before the Supreme Court's 1954 decision -- a quiet drama was beginning in Brooklyn, a drama that one observer later would call "perhaps the most visible single desegregation action ever taken."
I'm glad that a whole new generation will be inspired by Robinson, who first inspired me more than 60 years ago when I was a boy heading to Ebbets Field with my father to watch the Brooklyn Dodgers face the New York Yankees in the World Series.
I spoke with Chadwick Boseman a few weeks before the film's opening and discussed carrying the legacy of such a beloved sportsman, seeking the approval of both his family and living widow Rachel, and all he learned working opposite leading man Harrison Ford.
In telling Robinson's story, Helgeland doesn't dwell on the endless barrage of racist bile that Robinson (and his wife) endured, but he doesn't shy from it either. As a result, Robinson's achievement takes on more meaning and more power.
There is no greater story in sports than Robinson breaking baseball's color line on April 15, 1947. Yet there was little sense of that history that day in the sports pages of daily newspapers, even in New York City.