Narrowing it down to just managers, the number has dropped from 19 percent to 14 percent since 1992. That's a difference of one job, but the percentage could drop further if the expansion Tampa Bay Devil Rays hire a white, as the Arizona Diamondbacks already have.

And the front offices?

Frank Robinson is right.

They're even worse.

The 1995-96 report said that minorities comprise 18 percent of all front-office employees, but Robinson recalls discussing such figures with former commissioner Peter Ueberroth and telling him they lied.

"The percentages, they're misleading," Robinson said. "I told them, 'Don't give me percentages. Give me numbers, titles people hold in the organizations they're in. Let me know if the Baltimore Orioles general manager is a minority, if the Angels have three or four minorities in their front office.'

"But the percentages, they include people working in the front office who are not in decision-making positions. They count switchboard operators, mailroom people. They count everyone and say, 'We have this percentage of minorities.' Don't give me that. There aren't a significant number of minorities in decision-making positions."

Baseball would respond that 11 percent of all executives and department heads are minorities - up from 7 percent in 1990. But again, here are the relevant facts:

One general manager.

Three farm directors.

And one scouting director.

Oh, Hank Aaron is a senior vice president in Atlanta, and Kirby Puckett is an executive vice president in Minnesota. Doc Rodgers is assistant GM in Cincinnati, Willie Stargell is assistant to the GM in Pittsburgh and Dave Stewart holds the same position in San Diego.

Still, none is a decision maker.

And Frank Robinson is sitting in Los Angeles.

He's so eager to return to baseball, he spoke with Anaheim and Boston last winter about their managerial openings - even though he has been fired three times as a manager.

"Really, it would be just to get back in the game," he said. "It doesn't look like anything is going to happen on the front-office end of it."

But what if he had been a white player who had hit 586 home runs?

Would he have fulfilled his goal of becoming a GM then?

"Yes," Robinson said. "There's no doubt in my mind."

Heck, it has all but happened for others.

"I'm not taking a shot at this individual when I bring up his name," Robinson said. "But George Brett steps out of playing, right? What did Kansas City make him? Vice president of baseball, right? OK. This is what I'm saying."

These are not simply the words of a man who is bitter over losing a job and frustrated that he can't find another one. Robinson said much the same things when he held a front-office position. He said them in response to Al Campanis and Marge Schott. He has been saying them for years.

"Know what I'd like to see baseball do? Acknowledge the problem and do something about it before there's a crisis," he said. "Baseball seems to respond to a crisis. When something happens, when something is blown up, they say, 'We've got to do something about it.' As soon as it dies down, it's business as usual.

"Understand something is there, and do something about it. Baseball says, 'We are. We are.' But where is it? It's not there. And there are two more clubs coming in. They've already got their general managers in place, and they're not minorities."

He sits in Los Angeles, one of baseball's all-time greats, unable to find work in the sport he loves. If you want to talk about Jackie Robinson, let's talk about Frank Robinson. Let's talk about minority hiring. Let's talk about all that is still wrong.