At the beginning of the World Series (世界职业棒球大赛)of 1947,I experienced a completely new e-motion, when the National Anthem was played. This time, I thought, it is being played for me, as much as for anyone else. This is organized major league baseball, and I am standing here with all the others; and everything that takes place includes me. About a year later, I went to Atlanta, Georgia, to play in an exhibition game. On the field, for the first time in Atlanta, there were Negroes and whites. Other Negroes, besides me. And I thought: What I have always believed has come to be. And what is it that I have always believed? First, that imperfections are human. But that wherever human-beings were given room to breathe and time to think, those imperfections would disappear, no matter how slowly. I do not believe that we have found or even approached perfection. Handicaps, prejudices—all of these are imperfect. Yet, they have to be reckoned with because they are in the scheme of human events. Whatever obstacles I found made me fight all the harder. But it would have been impossible for me to fight that all, except that I was sustained by the personal and deep-rooted belief that my fight had a chance. It had a chance because it took place in a free society. Not once was I forced to face and fight an immovable object. Not once was the situation so cast-iron rigid that I had no chance at all. Free minds and human hearts were at work all around me; and so there was the probability of improvement. I look at my children now, and know that I must still prepare them to meet obstacles and prejudices.