DOUBLE PLAY
Robert B. Parker
Putnam
Fiction
ISBN: 0399151885

The first Robert B. Parker novel that I ever read was MORTAL STAKES, the third of the Spenser books. The book concerned, along with many other things, professional baseball, and even at the early point in the series Parker's and Spenser's wit was razor-sharp. References were made in those early books to Spenser's service in World War II, something that, uh, isn't referenced much anymore, given that Spenser would be in his early 80s by now and probably not in any shape to be pimpslapping the occasional villainous cad he might encounter. I kept coming back to Spenser's forgotten military service, however, as I read DOUBLE PLAY.

DOUBLE PLAY is not in the Spenser continuum, nor in the worlds of Randall or Stone. It is set in 1947, an era to which Parker is no literary stranger, due to his fine novels POODLE SPRINGS and PERCHANCE TO DREAM. DOUBLE PLAY is in its fashion a historical novel. As Parker so aptly puts it in a short note at the commencement of the book, DOUBLE PLAY is a work of fiction about a real man. The man in question is Jackie Robinson, the first black American to play in what has come to be known as Major League Baseball. That feat was perhaps one of the most significant occurrences of the 20th century with respect to the Civil Rights movement, arguably equaled by the unabashed appeal of Louis Armstrong to white audiences. DOUBLE PLAY, however, is told from the perspective of Joseph Burke, a troubled man whose path makes an unlikely crossing with Robinson's on the eve of the latter's shattering of the color barrier in professional sports.

Burke is a World War II veteran, a marine who survived, though barely, the battle of Guadalcanal. Returning home to an empty house and life, Burke, like Spenser before him, becomes a professional boxer but soon finds that he is almost good, in a sport where such a level of competency is simply not good enough. After being employed for a short time as a "collection agent" for an unsavory character, Burke is hired as a bodyguard by Julius Roach for his daughter Lauren, who, in the words of Roach, needs "looking after." This indeed is an understatement. Lauren is trouble, yet Burke is attracted to something within Lauren, and the two begin an unlikely but perhaps inevitable relationship.

When Burke's employment, and his relationship with Lauren, is terminated, Burke is passed off to a man named Branch Rickey. Rickey is on the verge of presenting Jackie Robinson to the world as the first black professional baseball player. Robinson has been receiving death threats on an almost daily basis; Rickey feels that Robinson needs protection, as well as a guardian angel, as it were, to keep him out of trouble. The message, though implied, is clear: in order for Robinson to succeed, he does not need to be as good as his white counterparts. He needs to be better, on and off the field.

Burke and Robinson accordingly begin a relationship that is, if anything, even more unlikely than Burke's star-crossed relationship with Lauren. The men have some initial difficulty --- white cab drivers won't pick them up because of Robinson and black cabdrivers won't pick them up because of Spenser, for example --- but the men soon develop a relationship based on mutual respect and the similarity of their circumstances. They are both fish out of water, doing the best that they can. It isn't long before they both make some people extremely angry. Burke foils one assassination attempt on Robinson's life, only to discover that an unhappy episode in Burke's past is now coming back on him and is endangering Robinson as well. Burke is not what one would necessarily call a smart man, but he is very clever. And he has a plan that will not only remove the threat to himself and to Robinson, but also resolve his own unfinished business of the heart.

I had the feeling while reading DOUBLE PLAY that the character of Burke might be based in part on Parker's private vision of Spenser's history --- his "hidden years," if you will --- prior to becoming a private investigator. There are similarities between the two characters --- the self-confidence, the military and pugilistic backgrounds, the quiet but deep caring that runs through both men --- but there are differences as well. It is doubtful that Burke knows that there is a spelling of Spenser "like the poet," though we do learn, albeit very briefly, that Burke is a reader; we just never learn what he has been reading. Nor does Burke possess Spenser's refinement. It is these differences, and others, between the two characters that keep DOUBLE PLAY from being a "Spenser meets Jackie Robinson" novel.

Ultimately, of course, DOUBLE PLAY is a Parker novel. The story is personal to Parker for a number of reasons --- some of which are revealed in an interesting narrative woven intermittently throughout the book --- but Parker does not hit the reader over the head with examples of the segregation that was the custom of the country at the time. His descriptions of such are subtle and understated, and command attention all the more because of it. Those readers born before 1960 will recall some of the practices related in this work, while readers who are in their mid-30s and younger will know of such matters only by way of anecdote. It is impossible to walk away from DOUBLE PLAY, however, without acquiring a renewed sense of how momentous an occasion Robinson's integration of professional sports was. While Spenser (or Stone, or Randall) fans will not be disappointed with DOUBLE PLAY, it is worth reading for its quiet yet forthright historical value alone.
   --- Reviewed by Joe Hartlaub

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