On this date

 Today is Good Friday, and, at sundown, the day Passover begins. It's also the 75th anniversary of Jackie Robinson integrating baseball, and the 110th anniversary of the Titanic going down, and the date, 167 years ago, at 7:22 on a rainy morning, that Abraham Lincoln drew his last breath.

That's what I call a day. 

And aside from its religious significance, everything else that happened led to some stuff, good, bad and in between.

Lincoln's death doomed the nation to a riven rebuild whose fault lines, racial and otherwise, remain dismayingly unrepaired to this day.

The sinking of the Titanic, among other things, would one day make James Cameron rich and win him an Oscar.

And Jackie Robinson?

Those aforementioned fault lines shaped his legacy, too, in their own way. The dignity and restraint with which he endured that first torturous summer in 1947 won over white fans who came to see him as the Good Negro; the fierce militancy that more truly framed Robinson's character turned some of those same fans against him later on.

Turning the other cheek that first season, he never did so again. He became what he always was, an uncompromising competitor with a mind of his own and no qualms about speaking it. In 1950s America, this was as singularly courageous as anything he did in 1947.

The rest of his legacy we see today in baseball, where every April 15 every player on every team wears No. 42 in Robinson's honor. The game has become not only integrated but multicultural; the stars of the game these days hail from white American suburbs and Latin America and Asia and African-American communities.

Fewer from the latter, it must be noted. The downside to Robinson's legacy, as we again celebrate his opening Major League Baseball to persons of color, is the dwindling number of African-Americans who are following him these days. It's a phenomenon that's not new and has been extensively noted, but that occasionally raises an eyebrow anyway.

The other day, for instance, when the Fort Wayne Tincaps played their home opener out at Parkview Field, I happened to glance at the roster for this High-A San Diego Padres affiliate. And something jumped out.

Except  for outfielders Joshua Mears (Federal Way, Wash.) and Corey Rosier (La Plata, Md.), there appear to be no African-Americans on the roster. Every other player is either white or Latin American.

Which only tells us, to belabor the obvious, that it's a different time in America, and a different time in baseball. The game's mostly self-inflicted eclipse in the shadow of football and basketball has led to a corresponding diminishment at its roots. 

American kids, particularly black American kids, gravitate far more readily to basketball or football these days, because who do they see? They see LeBron or Steph or Giannis or KD they see Patrick Mahomes or Russell Wilson or Gronk or Tom Brady. Heck, even Boban Marjanovic, a journeyman center for the Dallas Mavericks, stars in a State Farm ad now.

But that is baseball's doing, not Jackie Robinson's. Seventy-five years ago he kicked open a door long barred to Americans of color, and those who wish to pass through it can still do so -- no matter how much baseball has fumbled the baton.

Which is why April 15 remains his day. And, of course, much else.