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He’s With Me and I’m With Him

He’s With Me and I’m With Him

What a statue in Brooklyn reminded me about character and courage.

Ed Clementi
July 14, 2025

This past week, I went to watch my son’s team play a minor league game in Brooklyn.

Great night. Loved being there. Proud of him. Proud of the team.

And on the way out of the stadium, something caught my eye.

A statue I hadn’t noticed before.

Two ballplayers in old-school Brooklyn Dodgers uniforms, standing side by side. Both wearing gloves. One with his arm around the other.

I walked closer.

Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese.

Jackie — someone I’ve looked up to for a long time. A man who stood for so much more than baseball.

And beside him, his teammate, the one who stood with him in a moment that mattered.

At that moment, one of my favorite quotes came to mind, something I’ve carried for years as a kind of compass for life and leadership:

“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.”
– Jackie Robinson

That’s when I stopped to read what the statue was all about. And I’m glad I did.

A Legacy Far Beyond Baseball

In 1947, Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball when he took the field for the Brooklyn Dodgers.

He was the first Black player in a segregated league.
And he paid the price for it — physically, emotionally, mentally.

He endured it all:
Racist taunts.
Spikes to the shins.
Pitchers throwing at his head.
Fans, teammates, even opponents who wanted him gone.

It wasn’t just pressure. It was cruelty.

And then — something human happened.

That May, in Cincinnati, Robinson was facing vicious heckling from the crowd.
Pee Wee Reese, the captain of the Dodgers and a Kentucky native, walked over from his position… and put his arm around Robinson.

No microphone.
No pre-approved statement.
Just one man letting everyone know, “He’s with me and I’m with him”

It didn’t stop racism.
But it sent a message, to fans, to teammates, and to Robinson himself:
You don’t stand alone.

What Real Character and Courage Looks Like

Reese didn’t do it to be celebrated.
He didn’t know a statue would be built.
He just did what the best people I know do:

He showed up.
He didn’t wait for a perfect time.
He didn’t weigh the political consequences.

He chose to be beside someone — when it actually counted.

And that small act — maybe just a few seconds — turned into a defining symbol of courage and character.
Not because it was big and loud.
But because it was real.

I’ve said this before — leadership isn’t about titles or volume or visibility.

Some of the best leaders I’ve ever known are the quiet ones. The consistent ones. The ones who act when it counts, even if no one else sees it.

But this story reminded me of something even deeper:

It’s not just about leadership.

This is what the best people I know do.

They stand beside you when it’s hard.
They make you feel like you’re not in it alone.
And they do it not for credit — but because it’s who they are.

We All Have Those Moments

Not on a field.
Not with thousands watching.

But in a meeting, when someone’s getting cut off or dismissed.
In a hallway, when a joke goes too far.
In a company, when values are compromised.
In life, when you know someone just needs a little cover.

Do we look away?
Or do we walk toward?

We talk a lot about impact.
About legacy.
About leadership.

But maybe it’s even simpler than that:

Be the one who stands beside someone — especially when others don’t.

Because those are the moments that define us.
They may not get headlines.
But they get remembered.

And like Jackie said:
“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.”

Let’s make ours count.