As a lifelong Pittsburgh Pirates fan who was 12 years old when the Pirates won the World Series in 1971, and like all Pirates fans of that time, I have a favorite memory of Roberto Clemente. In 1972 I attended a Picture Day game at Three Rivers Stadium where fans were allowed on the field before the game to take pictures of the players (separated from us in those pre-selfie days by a rope barrier). I spied Roberto in conversation with Al Oliver, a young center fielder for the team. I wanted to get Robert's attention for a picture, but he was like a god to me. I couldn't talk to him! So I yelled "Hey, Al!", and when both players turned to me I snapped a picture I had and cherished for many years. Unfortunately somewhere along the way I lost it, and like all images from those pre-digital days it is unrecoverable.
Remembering Roberto provides an avenue to refresh why he was such a god to young fans then and now. Pittsburgh sports writer Jim O'Brien has captured pictures and conducted dozens of interviews with teammates, family, and fans of the incomparable Roberto Clemente. Many teammates relayed Clemente's refusal to wear his 1960 World Series Championship ring because he felt slighted by not being voted league MVP that season, which went to his teammate Dick Groat while Clemente finished 8th in the voting by sports writers; several reported that he wore his 1960 All-Star team ring instead. While some teammates thought it was presumptuous and held it against him, others felt he was justified. Groat said he and Clemente never had words about the topic (p. 223).
Everyone agreed on his incredible talent (with the lone exception of Elroy Face!), ranking him with Mays and Aaron as the greatest of his contemporaries, and while a few (Face again, for one) commented on his reputation as a hypochondriac, by far the majority brushed that criticism off as a media and fan-driven stereotype. Bill Mazeroski, the hero of that amazing 1960 World Series game 7 win, provided insight into the criticism: "he could have made a difference defensively, if he was out in right field. . . . He could do things when he was hurt that most of us couldn't do when we were healthy." (p.262)
Stargell speaks of Clemente's "eternal fire" (p. 234), but it is perhaps catcher Manny Sanguillen who has the most vivid and intimate memories of him. As a young Latin player on the Pirates in 1967, Clemente was an idol and mentor. Then, when Clemente was organizing relief supplies for victims of the Nicaraguan earthquake late in 1972, Sanguillen was playing on Clemente's winter ball team in Puerto Rico (ironically playing some right field to possibly spell the aging Clemente). Sanguillen was planning to fly on the plane Clemente had chartered to take the supplies, but missed the doomed flight when he couldn't find his car keys. Sanguillen spent days alongside search and rescue teams trying desperately to find his friend. When the 1973 season started Sanguillen was tried in right field and ridiculed as incompetent by fans. But Sanguillen said it best: "how you find a player to replace Roberto and who can do the things Roberto did, day in and day out, for 18 years?" (p. 322).
And relief pitcher Kent Tekulve, who only crossed pathes with Clemente in the 1971 spring training season, relates how Clemente would come down to the bullpen area after his couple innings in spring games and hold court with young Latin players on his theories of hitting. As Tekulve relates it, Clemente explained his unorthodox hitting style as trying to "hit the ball with the bat going down through it" (p. 329) to generate backspin with the very heavy bat he used. Tekulve said he would go back to his room after those sessions and think about how to pitch to combat that kind of approach.
Later, after Clemente had died and Tekulve made the Pirates big league roster, he helped the Pirates win the 1979 World Series and set many team and league relief pitching records. When Tekulve looked to Stargell that year for leadership, Willie would say "That is Roberto. You're getting it secondhand from Roberto." (p. 331).
Perhaps the last word should go to the great Myron Cope, the dean of Pittsburgh sports journalists and commentators: "He walked naked to the world." (p. 404)
I love Roberto Clemente. I am from Puerto Rico and I will never forget the day he died. You ask anyone in PR and they know about him. And according to many people, the same in Pittsburgh. Roberto Clemente was one of our first superstars. What I didn't like about the book that the author piggybacked a lot of other people's stories in the book. Just because they knew him or knew of him, the author added a lot of pages about the person that wasn't related to Roberto Clemente. This book is very long but if all the piggybacks were removed, it would had been much shorter and about Roberto Clemente.