I dedicate this book to a range of people, all linked together over my lifetime. In the beginning was my Creator, who blessed me with some talents in baseball. Then my dad, Matt, and my brothers, Lloyd and Donald, who helped me develop them. Ray Brann, a good semipro player, who encouraged me. Archie Chadd and Charles Cummings, my high school coaches. About this time, my best girl, Betty Palmer, entered my life. She lived through every stage of my career with me while raising Danny, Gary, Susan, and Jimmy. They, too, shared some of the experiences.

Stanley Feezle, a Brooklyn Dodger scout who had just signed Gil Hodges, followed me in high school, along with my catching buddy, Jack Rector, and recommended us to the Dodgers.

Of course, Branch Rickey, who signed me in 1946 and was my mentor in baseball and a strong influence in my life. There are countless others in my hometown of Anderson, Indiana, who boosted and supported me.

I also dedicate this book to the baseball fans whose lives have been touched in some way by a pitch, a play, a game, or a season and who still write me about those wonderful years when I went to work every day at the ballpark and put on my No. 17 Dodger uniform.

Finally, I dedicate this book to The Game. Yes, it’s only a game, but it’s America’s game, and the roots are deep. The Game has survived wars, the Great Depression, and a number of natural disasters. It has woven itself into the fabric of America. The Game set the stage for America to find itself racially and now provides the perfect setting, where merit alone dictates acceptance.

I’m grateful to all of the above and say a prayer of thanksgiving daily.