Frank Robinson was traded to the Baltimore Orioles before the start of the 1966 season, the year I turned 13. I didn’t have long years of observation to draw up, but even then I recognized that I had never seen a player who played with his intensity and aggressiveness. We had had good players on the Orioles, including the great Brooks Robinson, but Frank came hard every play of every game. From the very beginning he was a leader, casting a no-nonsense example that eventually caught on with the whole team, and set the stage for the nearly two decades of excellence that followed. Two memories stand out. One, after Game Four of the 1966 World Series, after the Orioles had swept the Dodgers, and Frank had earned the Triple Crown and the league MVP, the team was naturally celebrating. Gene Brabender, a long reliever, was one of many players spraying teammates with champagne. He approached Frank, who held up one finger and said “No.” Brabender stepped back. The second memory came six years later, during Game Six of the 1971 World Series. After beating the Pirates in the first two games, the Orioles lost three in a row, now found themselves tied 2-2 in the 10th inning of an elimination game. 
With one out, Frank drew a walk. The following batter, Merv Rettenmund, hit a bouncer up the middle that eked into shallow center field. Never breaking stride, Frank challenged the outfielder, and on his 36 year-old legs went from first to third, narrowly beating the throw. A few pitches later, Brooks Robinson lofted a shallow fly to center. Again, Frank never hesitated, tagging up and racing home. The throw was up the line, but it might have been on time, except that it bounced high. Frank slid hard, taking out the catcher’s legs out before crossing the plate with the winning run. The O’s lost the next day, but the team got one more lesson on how to play the game. About five years ago, I saw him on Madison Avenue. I told him how much I admired him, and shook his hand. I’m glad I did.
