“Good morning Miss Brenda!” Walter Gibbons exclaimed jovially to the woman standing at the reception desk in the entrance of the cafeteria. Beaming with every step, Gibbons strode toward the food counter and picked out a hot dog with a side of fries, quite fitting for a man who’s spent most of his life in the game of baseball.
As he prepared to sit down, Gibbons is greeted by some of his fellow companions in the maintenance department, bantering with them about the Rays game the previous night. It’s just another day at the University of Tampa for the retired professional baseball player. After a long career in both baseball and the army, Gibbons is simply just enjoying life. These days, he works as a housekeeper at the school to keep himself busy. “I probably wouldn’t last if I didn’t get up and do this every day,” Gibbons said.
Though he lives a modest lifestyle today, Gibbons has quite an incredible past. Unless you asked him about it though, you probably wouldn’t know that. An unassuming and humble man, Gibbons doesn’t like to brag about his storied history and wants to be treated just like any other person. “I’m not better than anyone else,” he said. “We’re all in the same boat here.”
You don’t have to travel far to find where Walter Gibbons’ story begins. Born in Ybor City in 1928, he began playing baseball, football and several other sports as a child. Gibbons eventually committed to baseball, joining the Negro Leagues as early as 17 years old. Although baseball, he said, “was not a ‘fun’ game at the time. Baseball was serious. You could make a lot of money doing it; it was a man’s game.”
Not long into his career he earned the nickname “Dirk” for his avid dirt-eating habits as a baby (he decided to replace the “t” in dirt with a “k” because it sounded better). As he grew older, “Dirk” made his living as a pitcher for the Indianapolis Clowns and spent most of the decade playing in the Negro League.
In 1949, however, the Negro League was disbanded due to players leaving for other outlets. Many of the most skilled and popular players were leaving for bigger opportunities and eventually the league crumbled.
“They kept playing but it wasn’t like it was before,” said Gibbons.
Perhaps the most exciting moment of his career was the day he pitched against Jackie Robinson, the man best known for breaking the color barrier in professional sports. On a momentous day in 1950, Robinson brought his travelling team of All-Stars to Tampa’s Plant Field to play an exhibition match. Pitching that day? Walter “Dirk” Gibbons, of course.
“Was he anything like they portray him in the movies?” I blurted out with excitement as we began talking about Jackie.
“Oh no, no. They got as close as they could get, though,” he chuckled.
Unfortunately, Robinson didn’t have much freedom to let his personality shine. For the most part he was forced to be obedient and polite when he first entered the big leagues. Gibbons suggested that a big reason he was the first African American chosen to go to the majors was his patience and ability to deal with harsh criticism and brutality. “Not many guys could have done what he did,” Gibbons said with a shake of his head.
Robinson and Gibbons managed to strike up an unlikely friendship on that very same day the All Stars came in to town. In fact, Robinson was so impressed by Gibbons’ pitching that he invited the young “Dirk” to join his traveling bunch. Much to his dismay, the onset of the Korean War prevented Gibbons from ever going. A few short days after being invited to join Jackie’s crew, Gibbons was drafted.
It was certainly a different world back then. Racism still reared its ugly head throughout the “Land of the Free.”
That much was evident when Gibbons tried to show his new friend Jackie Robinson the mighty minarets of Plant Hall. “Jack wanted to know what the minarets were all about. I promised that after the game I’d take him over and show him around,” said Gibbons.
Right as they started making their way up the steps, they were stopped by a police officer. “I’d like to take Mr. Robinson up to see the minarets, if that’s alright,” a young Gibbons said politely to the deputy. Followed by a brief pause, the police officer shook his head and instructed them to leave. Robinson turned to Walter and simply said: “Let’s just turn around. We don’t want no trouble.”
Moments like that remind us of the immense character of Jackie Robinson. In the heat of adversity, Robinson still acted with class and dignity.
“I hate to keep telling that story,” Gibbons said. “Because I love this University and they know it. But unfortunately it did happen.”
Sadly, being escorted to leave a building was benign in comparison to some of the things Robinson had to endure throughout his life. Racial slurs, violence and intentional throws at his head during at-bats were just a few of the horrific sufferings inflicted upon him by other people. He once even endured a gash on his leg as a result of opponents being extra physical with him. Jackie remained a warrior, gritting his teeth through the pain and vowing to never give up. Gibbons marvels at his courage to this day.
Days for African Americans playing sports in the United States would eventually get brighter. At one point, Branch Rickey, the Brooklyn Dodgers’ GM that initially signed no. 42, told Robinson, “If they hit you, you go out and hit them back.”
Today, baseball is a very different game. Though the vile grip of segregation has long been lifted from major league baseball, problems still loom. Integrity is once again in question in baseball as steroids, performance enhancing drugs (PEDs), and other mechanisms to cheat are used by a handful of players. Superstar Yankee third baseman Alex Rodriguez was recently booked by the MLB and could serve a lifelong ban from the game, leaving fans chanting “A-Fraud” instead of “A-Rod.”
One thing that hasn’t changed in baseball is the aspect of money. Even back in Gibbons’ day athletes were paid exceptionally well compared to the average worker. Gibbons believes that a grand sum of money handed to teenager is a vile combination. To keep himself in check, Gibbons simply sent most of his earnings back home to his mother.
“What happened is owners [have] messed up baseball by paying so much. Kids get into the wrong things and one thing leads to another. I remember my first wage was $200 a month, which was a lot back then. I used to send most of it home to my mother!” he said with a laugh.
The United States was not the only outlet for those seeking to make a living in baseball. In his post Negro League days, Gibbons made a career in the ManDak league, a hybrid-baseball league comprised of teams in Manitoba, Canada and North Dakota. In fact, his team The Greys enjoyed quite a bit of success during his tenure there. Playing up in Canada certainly had its benefits (if you could survive the blisteringly cold weather), but African-American men seeking solace still couldn’t escape the reach of racial undertones. “You were free to do whatever you want but prejudice still lingered against black American men,” Gibbons said.
Racism has come a long way today since then. Sixty-three years ago, Jackie Robinson was barred from entering Plant Hall for being black. Sixty-three years later, his friend Walter Gibbons is the life of the party on campus. Race does not define you, your heart does. Jackie Robinson proved that. Walter Gibbons most definitely proved that. Next time you visit a Rays game (or any professional game for that matter) and you see number “42” hanging in the rafters, remember just how significant that is. In the words of Walter Gibbons, “Don’t wait till a catastrophe happens to come together. Come together now!”
“Is there anything you wish you could change?” I said as my final question to Gibbons. He paused for a moment and shook his head. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he mustered, “How come they have a plaque on Plant Field for the hitter (Jackie Robinson) but not the pitcher? I should get some credit, I played there too!” he exclaimed with another laugh.
Though Gibbons was joking, he is right. Jackie Robinson led the change, but there were countless African-American baseball players who paved the way for baseball equality. One of those men resides right here in Tampa, and he’s a mighty guy. His name is Walter Gibbons.
Griffin Guinta can be reached at griffin.guinta@theminaretonline.com