Jackie Robinson: I'm not goin' anywhere! I'm right here.
Branch Rickey: Jackie Robinson. A black man in white baseball.
Pee Wee Reese: Maybe tomorrow, we'll all wear 42, so nobody could tell us apart.
Ben Chapman: Why don'tcha look in a mirror? This is a white man's game.
Leo Durocher: If Robinson can help us win, then he is gonna play on this ball club.
Branch Rickey: You think God likes baseball, Herb?
Herb Pennock: What -? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Branch Rickey: It means someday you're gonna meet God, and when he inquires as to why you didn't take the field against Robinson in Philadelphia, and you answer that it's because he was a Negro, it may not be a sufficient reply.
Reporter: Baseball was proof positive that democracy was real. A baseball box score after all, is a democratic thing. It doesn't say how big you are, or what religion you follow it does not know how you voted, or the color of your skin, it simply states what kind of ballplayer you were on any particular day.
Burt Shotton: When I took the Cleveland uniform off two years ago I promised the missus I'd never put on another uniform again. So the roses are beautiful and, uh, I sleep better too.
Branch Rickey: Roses and sleep are two wonderful things, Burt. But sleep you can get when you're in your casket, and flowers look great on top of it. But, uh, you don't look like a dead man to me, Burt.