Hank on First! How Hank Greenberg Became a Star On and Off the Field

An informative look at a Jewish sports legend.

Krensky follows Hank Greenberg’s baseball career from his early days to his stardom with the Detroit Tigers during the 1930s and 1940s. The author focuses particularly on Greenberg’s Jewish heritage and the antisemitism he confronted from both fans and fellow players. This story hinges on a famous episode in Greenberg’s career, when the American League pennant race coincided with the Jewish High Holy Days. After consulting a rabbi, Greenberg decided to play baseball on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, but to sit out Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year, and attend services at his synagogue instead. The Tigers lost the game that day, but Greenberg’s legacy lives on. Bold, stylized illustrations will grab readers’ attention. Swirls of color convey movement as Greenberg slides through the dirt and hits home runs; white zigzags punctuate the “boos” he endures from bigoted audiences as he steps onto the field. Though the book doesn’t delve too deeply into Greenberg’s story, it gives just enough details to whet the appetite for more; both his commitment to his faith and his passion for the game come through clearly. (This book was reviewed digitally.)

A compelling introduction to Hank Greenberg for a new generation of baseball fans. (biographical note) (Picture-book biography. 5-8)

--Kirkus Reviews

Base­ball leg­end Hen­ry ​“Hank” Green­berg (1911 – 1986) has long been an inspi­ra­tion to Amer­i­can Jews. In addi­tion to his phe­nom­e­nal ath­let­ic skills, he is best known for hav­ing refused to play on Yom Kip­pur dur­ing the 1934 sea­son. Stephen Kren­sky and Alette Straathof’s new pic­ture book biog­ra­phy recalls the anti­se­mit­ic abuse to which Green­berg was sub­ject­ed, along with his courage and resilience. As the book’s sub­ti­tle sug­gests, there are many ways in which a gift­ed ath­lete can be a star.

When the book begins, twen­ty-three-year-old Hank is play­ing first base for the Detroit Tigers. He has always want­ed to be an ath­lete, yet his par­ents, in typ­i­cal Jew­ish-immi­grant fash­ion, always assumed he would be a doc­tor or a lawyer. ("The choice is yours," his moth­er assures him.) Read­ers first see Hank swift­ly catch­ing the ball; but by the next page, his suc­cess is already upset by prej­u­dice. A jeer­ing crowd shouts anti­se­mit­ic slurs at him as he turns away, proud­ly car­ry­ing his bat. Straathof’s pic­tures do not shy away from depict­ing such hatred. The rage on the people’s faces may remind adults of pho­tographs from the lat­er Civ­il Rights era, when white suprema­cists angri­ly protest­ed desegregation.

There are a lim­it­ed num­ber of options avail­able to Hank when it comes to choos­ing how to respond to this hatred. One two-page spread shows him against a red back­ground that is explod­ing with crude taunts, each one print­ed in upper­case in an exag­ger­at­ed­ly large font. Although Hank admits to him­self that the big­ots are "get­ting under his skin," he nev­er­the­less believes that stay­ing calm and prov­ing his skills will be the best plan of action. Upon the arrival of the High Hol­i­days in the fall, Hank must decide whether or not to play, since Kren­sky care­ful­ly states that most Jews don’t work on those days. Even though Green­berg was not strict­ly obser­vant, he was like­ly aware that his per­son­al deci­sions about reli­gious prac­tice would reflect on Jew­ish peo­ple as a whole.

Hank asks a rab­bi for advice and is told that there is a dif­fer­ence between play­ing on Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kip­pur. By the time Yom Kip­pur arrives, he is still torn, debat­ing whether to attend syn­a­gogue or avoid con­tact with the pub­lic by stay­ing home. When he shows up at ser­vices, the entire com­mu­ni­ty — includ­ing his rab­bi — applauds, and Hank knows he is in the right place.

In Greenberg’s life and career, he proved that being a star is about more than being named most valu­able play­er or play­ing on a team that won the World Series twice. This New York City boy earned the respect of his fel­low Jews, and of many Amer­i­cans, when he laid down his bat and put on his tallis.

--JEWISH BOOK COUNCIL