Roberto Clemente

"Bobby, it don't matter how you stand; it matter where you end up!"

"I had offers from Dodgers, Giants and Braves. Braves offer same amount as Dodgers but I have many friends on Brooklyn team. I feel more at home there and I sign."

"Four years ago he was playing amateur softball in Puerto Rico. "I peetch and play shortstop," he said of his early days. "I no play outfield until pro ball." Roberto turned pro in 1952 with Santurce and last year played winter ball for that team with Willie Mays. Herman Franks, Giant coach, was the manager. "Wee-lee May and Herm Frank help me," he answered when I asked him if he had been given special instruction in the game by anyone. "May show me how to field and throw," he added. Did Mays or anyone show him how to hit? "No," he replied, pride in his voice. "I learn to heet myself. Nobody show me.""

""I no play so gut yet," the Puerto Rican star tried to explain yesterday. "Me like hot weather, veree hot. I no run fast cold weather. No get warm in cold. No get warm, no play gut. You see." Clemente likes Forbes Field and Connie Mack Stadium the best of all the parks he's played in but has a strong dislike for Ebbets Field and the Polo Grounds because of the crazy bounces the balls take as they ricochet off the walls."

"Clemente, who says Josh Gibson is the best hitter he ever saw, is anxious to see Ted Williams when the slugger comes here a week from Monday for the benefit exhibition between the Pirates and Red Sox."

"I didn't like the trade. Santurce is close to my home town and I like the fans there. They good to me and cheer me all the time. I may not go back. I may work in Pittsburgh."

"No, I don't learn the basket catch from Mays," Roberto protested in his marked Puerto Rican accent. "It was Luis Olmo and Herman Franks who teach me when I in Dodger chain. That back in 1954 Winter league. Before that, I miss fly ball many time 'cause I try to catch too high. But now no drop one ball since I use basket catch." Clemente said Olmo and Franks instructed him to catch the ball about chest high instead of holding his hands outstretched. Later, he said, It became more natural for him to drop his hands even lower, below his waistline. "It work good for me and I juss keep doing it," he said. "It make it more easy for me to throw too, after I make catch."

"I love the game too much to quit. But right now I can't run or swing a bat too well. I had my tonsils out two weeks ago in Pittsburgh and that helped, but I still have the pain. I am studying to be a civil engineer in Puerto Rico, so that's what I'll do if I have to give up baseball."

""I want play but back hurt. If I no can play good, I no help team. So I wait until pain goes away. I no swing bat good, no run good, no catch ball like old times. I try but pain, she too much. Some days, no pain. Other days, pain all time. Some days pain so much I theenk maybe I quit baseball. But I need money so I play baseball." Clemente doesn't even want to think of an operation on his back. He says he had two brothers and a sister who died following surgery and his family opposes operations."

"I will try to play this season out, then rest for a while. Then I will play some winter baseball, and if my back still hurts, I'll quit."

"No one knows what eet is. They can't find anything. I run, I throw, I move eet hurts. Eet goes away and come back. Someday eet hurt . . . someday no. If eet doesn't cure, I quit baseball ... No fool around."

"I won't play ball in the winter. I gonna rest. If the pain is still there, I won't come back to spring training. I don't want to play the way I play now. I can't do nothing. That's like I steal money from the club."

"How you blame Bragan for what we do? He no hit for us, no run for us, no peetch for us, no feeld for us. Bes manager I efer play for."

"Last year I lose almost 20 pounds. When I go home end season I weigh only 163. I worry more 'bout bad back than I worry 'bout baseball. Now I feel goot. Ver goot. I sink I play one fitty games and I hit thee hunnert. I feel I hab goot season. Maybe fiteen home runs, nyenee RBIs, steal maybe dirty bases."

"You all wrong. You try to hit home run every time but you no can do. No man can do. I wish you try to hit ball like you did when you joined team last July. Then you just try to meet ball because you want to make good showing after coming from minors. You swing easy and ball goes into centerfield seats. Next day, you swing easy again and ball goes over left field wall. Now you swing too hard. Try to hit home run every swing. You wrong. You have no timing, you miss ball. Please, for me, just try to meet ball when we open season. You have so much power, you just meet ball and whoosh—it goes over fence. Stu, with my brains, if I have your power, I make $200,000 in baseball."

"If a Latin player is sick, they said it is all in their head. I'm sick of these people who make these statements. They call me 'Jake.' It is Roberto ... Roberto Walker Clemente."

"Many people tell me I wanna play like Weelie. I no play like Mays. From little boy up, I always play like thees. I always wanna run fast, to throw long and heet far."

"I do not care about home runs. The pitch is always away from me and it is foolish to try to pull this pitch for a home run. The pitcher does not wish it so, and I don't try. I am not foolish. Only in Philadelphia I think maybe I will try for the home run, but I do not think so even in L.A. I make the hits which the pitcher cannot stop, and that is better than striking out and will drive out the pitcher, too."

"It is easy to explain. This is the first time I ever went into a season without aches and pains. One year I was bothered by a bad back and it carried into another season. Another year I hurt my hand. This year I feel good."

"I hit many what you call the "bad bol" pitches, and get good wood. The bol' travel like bullet. That remind me, I hit 565 foote hum-rum in Chicaga last year; the bol' disappear from centerfield, and Raj Hornsby tell me it longest drive he ever saw hit out of Wrigley Field. The bol' feel good on the bat but I feel bad at heart, when no writer with our team play up the big drive. I feel effort not appreciated."

"In other years, we talk pennant with mouth, do nothing on field. This year we do our talking on field, keep mouths closed about pennant."

"I go up to hit. I hear people say I swing at bad pitches. If I can hit it, it is not a bad pitch."

"The Yankees aren't going to frighten this club. Except for power, we are a better all-round club than the Yankees and this is going to pay off in a world championship for Pittsburgh in six games." Clemente [...] isn't worried about the Pirates being affected by Series jitters. "We don't have that kind of a club. We've been a relaxed team all season and I expect us to be the same in the Series. Pressure didn't get us down during the National League race. We fought off Milwaukee, St. Louis and Los Angeles without cracking. Now that we have come this far, we aren't going to look back now. As a team I would have to rate the Braves over the Yankees. If the Braves had won the pennant, I believe they would have been good enough to beat the Yankees, too. We have a better field club and better pitching than they do. We'll get our share of runs, too." Clemente, who played in Yankee Stadium during the All-Star Game, admitted the late afternoon shadows in the New York park could be a disadvantage to the Pirates outfielders. "The ball is hard to follow and it may give us some trouble. I really don't think it will make a difference in the outcome of the Series though."

"They've been knocking me down all season in the National League and I've still gotten my share of base hits."

"This is my ball park. Every game is played in daylight and I can see the ball good. And I can reach the stands in any direction. I hope I'm never traded but if I am, I wish it would be to the Cubs. I know I do well there in 77 games."

"I jus' try to sacrifice myself, so I get runner to third. If I do, I feel good. But I get heet and Willie scores, and I feel better than good. [...] What makes me feel most good is that the skipper let me play the whole game. I think maybe he take me out after a few innings for Aaron but no, he pay me big compliment. I stay in game and that gave me confidence. I think I don't let him down, no?"

"I was looking for an inside pitch. I don't know whether it was a fastball or not, but it came in a little inside and I was ready for it. I know it went out of here fast. Last year I hit one harder to the left field bleachers. That was a high fly ball. But this was a line drive. And I liked this hit better because it won the game."

"Sometimes I get mad at people. But only once here in Pittsburgh. That when I was hurt and everyone call me Jake. I don't like that. I want to play but my back hurt lots of times and I can't play. Then that year in St. Paul when I throw the ball in exhibition game the elbow started to puff up. That when some people write that I was in fight with Face in St. Louis. You know that not right. You can still feel bone chip in my elbow. That's why I throw the ball underhand sometimes. That way it don't hurt my arm. If I throw real hard lots of times overhand in game, the elbow hurts and swells up. The back is okay too. Sometime it hurt me when I run. But I find out it is bad disc. If it goes out on the right side I can push it back in easy. But if it hurts on the other side, sometimes I have to work long time to get it back in place."

"I have friend in Puerto Rico who studied to be a doctor but did not finish. He has lots of money now and just likes to work as doctor sometimes. He has helped lots of fellows playing winter ball in my home. He fixed me up and I know chiropractor in St. Louis who is good for me. I think my friend in Puerto Rico can help Vernon. He can tell when it hurts without touching the spot. He do that with me just in exercise he asked me to do. I make face once and he said you have bad disc. And he right."

"I was mad last year. I played as well as anyone else on our team and I didn't receive one vote for MVP. Don't get me wrong; I didn't say I was the best last year or that I should have won the MVP award. But nobody seemed to care about me. But you win the batting title yourself. They can't take that away from you."

"I want to thank my teammates for being a bunch of swell guys. I want to thank Branch Rickey for giving me the opportunity of playing baseball. Most of all I want to thank the people of Pittsburgh whose encouragement helped me win this award. They deserve the best."

"If I don't have trouble with my stomach I think I can be up among the leading hitters in the league again this year. When I am bothered with my stomach, it leaves me weak. Then instead of just swinging to meet the ball I begin over-swinging and it messes me up. Funny thing, I am bothered more when I go home than when I'm in the States. I'm seriously thinking about spending the next winter in Pittsburgh."

"I think he had the best eye, best stance and sharpest cut of all the big leaguers playing in Puerto Rico. He also field real good and throw like a bullet."

"I was just a youngster and believed everything everybody told me. The Dodgers told me a big bonus was no good and they said other players would resent it. Better for me to take small amount and work my way use [sic]. So my father signed for me. Next day, the Braves offer me $27, 500 and I say, "Where were you yesterday?" In the workout with the Dodgers, I hit 10 balls over the fence and I go back to 400-foot mark and throw to the plate. The Dodgers hid me as Montreal in 1954 and I seldom played. Maybe the late innings. Once I started and before I could bat in first inning they take me out for pinch-hitter."

"They pick us for sixth and seventh place. But if we fight, we are going to make it to the top. Myself, when I think I can do one thing and some one else thinks the opposite, I have to prove to the world that I can."

"Everybody pick us for sixth place this year. The best way to prove to yourself this wrong is for Pirates to bounce back—to fight hard. I know something inside me explode when things are tough so I can do better."

"“I sick, I have nervous stomach. I can hardly eat. I’m taking lot of vitamins and I’m getting stronger. But I still sick.” [...] Clemente said he’s been bothered by stomach trouble since last August. "During the winter I feel real bad. I lost 18 pounds but I’ve picked my weight back up a little since then. I don’t feel too strong and sometimes when I run I get short of breath. Sometime I feel good and sometime I don’t feel like playing ball at all.” [...] “If I get a little stronger, I hit with more power and I help the club more.”"

"I know more about Virdon than any other player because we're so close in the outfield and I think it would be a big mistake to trade him. Virdon is an underrated outfielder. I know. He doesn’t get the headlines because he makes everything look so easy. He would be a hard man to replace. Many times I look up on a tough chance and there’s Virdon near me in case something goes wrong. He is always backing me up on the one side and Bob Skinner on the other. If you don’t want to take my word for it how valuable Virdon is, ask some of our pitchers. Virdon has kept quite a few in the big leagues with his fielding. That's how good he is."

"What I did was mild compared to what Durocher did to Conlan. I don't see how what I did can be called more serious than the Durocher incident. I had good reason to lose my head. That was the second time they call me out on a play I thought I had beat. That's enough to make anybody mad."

"It seems to me they like to play up my faults. If I make a bad play, it seems to get more publicity than the good things I do. They always compare me with Paul Waner and things in the past. I didn't play ball 25 years ago. I'm playing now. I think I should be judged on this basis. I get tired of hearing that Waner was a better hitter than me. A lot of old fans tell me I field better, run faster and throw harder than Waner. Nobody says anything about that.""

"I think the fans in Pittsburgh are the best in baseball. They've always been on my side, even when I'm going bad. I've made plenty of friends and I would not trade these people for anybody, anywhere."

"There was a time when I said if I couldn't play in Pittsburgh, I wouldn't want to play anywhere. I don't feel that way now. If the Pirates traded me, I would accept it as a part of baseball and continue doing my best wherever I went."

"I think winning the batting championship again (he won the title in 1961) would be my biggest thrill. I put it above the Most Valuable Player award. After all, hundreds of players are trying for the title. If I win, that means I'm best. It also means the first championship I won was no fluke. A lot of people like to say it was. I believe I stand a good chance of winning this year if my weight holds up. Right now I think it will."

"There are many good players in this game. If they weren't good, they wouldn't be in the majors. I'm not bragging when I say I think I'm as good as anyone. Mays, Aaron, Robinson, guys like that, hit with more power than I do. After that, I think I can hold my own."

"In Puerto Rico, we like to laugh and talk before a game. Then we go out and play as hard as we can to win. Afterwards, we laugh and talk again. But in America, baseball is much more of a business. Play well and you get pats on the back and congratulations. Play bad and no pats and maybe nobody talks to you."

"I am tired of playing in a shadow Everything I do they compare to Paul Waner. I am not Paul Waner's shadow. I try not to let it bother me, but I get tired of the things some people say. They call me a showboat because I make basket catches. They don't call Willie Mays a showboat, do they? They say I'm a hypochondriac, too. When I have trouble with my back, they say it's in my mind. In Houston last year, right before the end of the season, I was still in the race for the batting title and Murtaugh told me to do everything possible to win it. One time I was being intentionally walked and I swung at one of the pitches. Then I wasn't a team player any more. People said I was out for myself."

"In 1956 I was doing good until I hurt my back. Since then I step to the side with my left foot faster so I don't have to twist my body so much."

"To hit in, it's okay; for power, it's not. If you get a line drive in this park, you're in good shape. It's best to hit to right field in this park because of the wall." He explained that balls bounding off and around the right field wall produce more extra base hits. He also said that he doesn't try for the home run. "If I tried hard, I might hit 20 to 25 homers a year. But if you hit for a high average, you will help the ball club more."

"I believe I can hit with anybody in baseball. Maybe I can’t hit with the power of a Mays or a Frank Robinson or a Hank Aaron, but I can hit. As long as I play in Forbes Field, I can’t go for home runs. Line drives, yes, but not home runs."

"I'm a better fielder than anyone you can name. I have great respect for Mays, but I can go get the ball like Willie and I have a better arm."

"I threw the javelin in high school, but that’s only part of the reason for my good arm. I got my good arm from my mother. Today she’s 73, yet she can throw a ball from second base to home plate with something on it. Last year, when they opened the amateur winter league in Puerto Rico, she threw out the first ball from a box seat to home plate. She had something on it, too. She’s in good health."

"Good public relations. When I was a rookie in 1955, I was lonesome and had no place to go. So I didn’t mind staying to sign autographs. I have found people treat you like you treat them."

"I carried this rubber ball with me all the time. I squeezed it to strengthen my fingers and wrists and my friend and I would walk to and from school throwing the rubber ball back and forth. Many times at night, I laid in the bed and threw the ball against the ceiling and caught it. Baseball was my whole life. I would forget to eat because of baseball and one time my mother wanted to punish me. She started to burn my bat, but I got it out of the fire and saved it. Many times today she tells me how wrong she was and how right I was to want to play baseball. I bought my parents their home in Puerto Rico and gave them possessions they never thought they’d ever see. All from baseball."

"I listened to the San Juan games on the radio and my idol was Monte Irvin, because he not only was a good hitter but had a very good arm. Even my friends called me Monte Irvin as a nickname. I never thought I’d be good enough to play pro ball. I always felt you had to be like Superman to play professionally. But in 1952, at age 17, I signed a contract with Santurce. My bonus? It was $500 and one glove. They also paid me $30 a week. Two years later – when I was 19 – there were eight or nine big league teams after me and I signed with the Dodgers for a $10,000 bonus. This was a big day in my life."

"It was a much bigger thrill to play on a winning team in 1960 than for me to win the batting title in 1961 when we finished sixth. When you’re with a bad team, you don’t have the incentive to keep going. Winning is such fun."

"I hear people say I swing at bad pitches. What is a bad pitch? If I can hit it, it's not a bad pitch."

"I see a lot of guys who look stylish at the plate, but they don't hit the ball very often."

"They think it is an act. When I said I had back trouble, they call me Mama’s Boy. Goldbrick. When my elbow was swollen as big as a softball, they say it was in my head. If I am sick, I do not deny. If my back is hurting me and I am forced to punch at the ball with no power, I tell the truth. I tell them I am hurting."

"With my eyes blind I can throw to the base. I know that. If Mantle have the arm I have you will put it in headlines because he is an American. You never give me credit. How many players in history have three batting titles? The sportswriters don't mention that. They ask me, "What you think about dis? What you think about dat?""

"If I make up my mind I’m going to hit 20 homers this year, I bet you any amount of money I can hit 20." A change of style would do the trick, he claims, but what sort of change? "Nothing. A little change in the hands, that’s all. I don’t want to tell you what it is."

"I never think about that before the season. Toward the end of the year I start thinking about it. Not before. I did it last year by just meeting the ball," he said. "I didn’t swing hard at all. I think I’m going to do the same thing this year. We have two good hitters behind me now and I don’t have to swing so hard." He means Donn Clendenon and Willie Stargell. The two hit a total of 41 homers to Clemente’s 10 last year. "They always say we need someone to hit home runs. We got some guys who can now. I don’t care for home runs. I showed ’em I could do it when I hit 23 in 1961. Home runs aren’t that important, though. Not to me, anyway."

""I hit it good and thought it was going over the wall when it left my bat," he observed. Clemente also said this is the fifth time he has hit a ball that was within inches of clearing the fence at the 436-foot sign—two against the Dodgers and two against the Braves."

"[Clemente] goes back to the ball he hit in Wrigley Field, Chicago. He rates this one No. 1 for distance, perhaps 600 feet. Clemente, himself, paced off the distance from the centerfield wall to the scoreboard right above and when he was shown the spot where the ball landed, he knew this was No. 1. "I hit one off Sam Jones one night over the left-center fence at Candlestick Park and that was a good one," he said. "And two I remember off Sandy Koufax. One over the right field fence at the Coliseum, the other here at Forbes Field. This one hit a transformer on the left-field light tower on the way up and it stopped. No telling how far it might have gone. And you remember I came within a few inches of putting one on the right field roof here."."

"Clendenon isn't like he was last year. If he comes back again, I'll start punching the ball again. But I've been taking a good cut and swinging hard."

"For years, I have been pleading with somebody in charge at Forbes Field to put clay instead of sand in the batter’s box. Sand causes your feet to slip. Clay gives you a chance to keep your feet solid. So all I got for years was sand and more sand. Batters would dig holes. I come to bat and scrape dirt to cover up the holes. Suddenly this year, they put clay in the batter’s box. Now I have firm footing. Now I can get a toe-hold."

"You could have put salt and pepper on me and fried me out in right field."

"With two men on base I was more concerned with driving in a run than getting No. 2,000. I set a goal of 100 RBIs and 25 home runs at the start of the season. Usually I'm not a home run hitter but I've been swinging more for home runs this season then ever before."

"The Braves have been digging in on us all year. They're taking toeholds on our pitchers. Somebody is going down tonight if I have to come in from right field and do it myself."

"I have more respect for this man than any of my previous managers, and I played for Fred Haney, Danny Murtaugh and Bobby Bragan. This fellow makes me feel that he really appreciates what I do. When he has something to tell you, he tells you in front of everybody. You don’t hear it from some newspaperman. I don’t see why people say he has a big mouth. He knows this business real good and he is doing a great job. He works with the players and he gives them more confidence. Matty Alou never did anything until he came to this man. Donn Clendenon is having his best year and also Willie Stargell. And me, too. That is the reason I want to win so bad. I never played with a club that put out 100 percent like this one. If somebody gets down he comes and talks to the others. No matter what happens, we get together and solve everything. I don’t even think we tried this hard to win in 1960 when they won the pennant and the World Series."

"I'm very happy. Very happy. This is a great honor. The only thing I would trade this for is a pennant. This is the first year a manager made me feel like I wanted to keep going all the time. In 1965 he told me I'd hit .325 when I was sick with malaria and batting about .270. Last spring he told me he wanted me to hit 25 home runs and drive in 100 runs. He made me feel I belonged. He did the job. Maybe he isn't the best manager in the game but he works hard. He made us what we are. Got to give him credit. I had my best year for Walker. So did a lot of others."

"At the beginning of the season he told me he wanted more homers and more runs batted in. He even named the figures: 25 homers and 115 RBIs. I could have hit more homers before if I wanted to, but I never cared about hitting them. I think a .350 batting average does the same good for a team as 25 homers and 100 runs batted in. But of course, if Walker wants more homers, it's okay with me."

"I am having a plaque put on the front of my house. It will say, "To God, Mother, Father and Baseball.""

"You know, Nellie, when I was young I would run on fly balls hit to the outfield. I'd go around second base and I suddenly realize the ball is going to be caught. Sometimes I would run across the infield and never re-touch second base. Sometimes the umpires wouldn't notice if the players wouldn't. I didn't know how to run the bases well the first couple of years."

"I like to see Maury in Pittsburgh uniform much better than watching him steal bases when I stand helpless in right field."

"Yes, my biggest game, but not my best game. My best game is when I drive in the winning run."

"I don't know. I don't know. I want to be happy because I have never hit three home runs in one game. But how can I be happy when we lose?"

"I never go for home runs. I haven't tried to hit one since 1960 when I thought I had a chance to hit 20."

"No, I don't think I can hit .370 for the season. At my age you come to the point when you are tired in the warmer weather. But if I were younger, and I knew what I know now about hitting, I could do it easily. When you are 28, you feel good all the time. At my age, sometimes you feel groggy. People say, "Why do they have to rest Willie Mays once in a while. They think it is not that hard to play the outfield. But it is not playing the outfield that is so tiring. It is the base-running. People don't realize how much more you are on base and how much running you have to do when you get 200 hits a year. You have to concentrate every minute on the bases to avoid the pickoffs, to fake a steal, to know whether to take the extra base. It begins to wear you down in late summer."

"“I do not read too much these days about Jerry May, but he is worthy of a story. He is the best defensive catcher I have seen in my 13 years with the Pirates. In fact, I have not seen many better defensive catchers anywhere in my time in baseball. A story now would do him good, make him feel appreciated. How you say, the time is appropriate?" Clemente always knew May could catch but May has opened his eyes in the formidable way he blocks the plate with a runner and the ball both bearing down on him. "He’s a take-charge catcher. He bosses the player throwing the ball – I tell you, that kid amazes me.""

"If I had not won the MVP, I would not have been mad, because Sandy Koufax was a great pitcher and he deserved it. Besides, I know I would have been close and not snubbed like I was in 1960. And I tell you one thing. I didn't win the MVP alone. I couldn't win it without having a good team, without men getting on base an without us winning. I was sad because we didn't win the pennant. But I thought the MVP was something the ball club could be proud of because it gave our whole team recognition."

"Once upon a time I never believed I could get tired of baseball. I played baseball from morning to night. But today it isn't as it once was. I just never seem to get enough rest. And if I can't play at my best all the time, why play?"

"I would have to say myself, but it would not look good for me to say it. I just have confidence I am the best because I believe in myself. If I had to pick another player, it would be Hank Aaron. He does everything so well."

"It is my greatest year, but my biggest disappointment."

"Everybody, they say Roberto just swings the bat and hits the ball. I work hard. No one works harder than I do. People think things come easy to me. They don't."

"Why you think I play this game? I play to win. Competition is the thing. I want to play on a winning team. I don't want to play for sixth place. I like to play for all the marbles, where every game means something. I like to play for real, not for fun."

"We play too many games with too much traveling. We should stay in one city longer and have a day off now and then. It would be beneficial for the teams, keep them in top physical shape more."

"The best advice and most help he ever received came from Buster Clarkson, an American player, when he was in Puerto Rico."I played for his team and I was just a kid," Clemente recalled. "He insisted the other players allow me to take batting practice and he helped me. He put a bat behind my foot and made sure I didn't drag my foot. Willie Mays also helped me. He told me not to allow the pitchers to show me up. He suggested I get mean and if the pitchers knocked me down, get up and hit the ball. Show them.""

"Thank you. I guess a fellow like me has to die to get voted in by the writers."

"Listen, I shouldn't even be playing. I showed up at spring training and I told the ball club about my accident. I said my shoulder had been damaged and the ballclub said "Sh-h-h, don't talk so loud. Somebody might hear you; Now, don't tell anybody about this." They said, "I don't want to know about it." Well, I tell you, it hurts me to swing a bat and, when I know it is going to hurt, it bothers me mentally and I do not swing the same and I wince when I think of hitting the ball. I should be home, not here in the dugout, because [sic] I would rather play even if I am crippled than to sit and watch a game."

"I was so anxious for this season to start when I was at home last winter. I was thinking in terms of a big year for myself—moneywise. I had batted .357 last year and I thought that if I had another big year I might get paid more money than anybody ever did in baseball. Then I fell and then I wonder if I will be able to play at all."

"The only people who criticize me are writers. You say, maybe I no team player. Did a player ever come to you and say I no team player? Who say that? The writers, right. I win four batting championships. Why I no team player? I kill myself in the outfield. You say, I no team player. You never see me loaf on the field. I break my back. Even Harry Walker tell me: "Roberto, why you want to break your back? Look at the other fellows. Take it easy." Super stars, my foot. They say Mickey Mantle is a super star. He's limping. They say poor Mickey. I play with four stitches in my foot and nobody knows about it. [...] The fans are good to me. Only the writers are bad.""

"The 100 grand right fielder revealed that Danny Murtaugh once fined him $650 when he did not run after hitting a ball to the shortstop. He never explained how Murtaugh reached the $650 figure. "I hit the ball and I slip at home plate and they fine me $650. First time up I hit a homer one-handed. I just limped around the bases.""

"I was not trying to be smart when I did that. I was trying to tell them that they could do whatever they want. The fans of Pittsburgh have cheered me a lot through the years. There’s always a first time for booing. But I don’t say to hell with the fans because of this. I am not swinging the bat the way I should. It is just one of those things. I am not the way I should be. I do not feel sure when I swing. I am trying to adjust so that I will swing well even though my shoulder still hurts. If a player doesn’t try hard, he deserves to be booed. I try hard. Maybe I was booed today because I have not played that bad before."

"I give you bastards four minutes to get outside. They are honoring the greatest second baseman the game has ever known and anyone not out there in four minutes will have to fight me."

"What I said was "Here, look at all these marks I got on my body from different injuries. Nobody ever writes anything about these, but they always write about Mickey Mantle’s injuries." I wasn’t saying anything against Mickey Mantle. I respect Mickey Mantle and I know what a great ballplayer he was."

"I can't think of average. I have to go for the long ball. We have only Stargell to hit homers. You need more than one man. We have the best leadoff man in baseball in Matty Alou. He will get on base. We have to get the long hits."

"These were great fans when I first play here, and they are still great. These fans never boo. They become frustrated because the Dodgers used to bring up some of the better minor-league players from here, but they never boo. Now, they are happy to have a big league team, and they are willing to wait five years, like the Mets' fans did, for the team to begin winning. But the thing that amazes me more than the players not being booed is the umpires. They never hear it from the fans, either, no matter if it does seem to be a bad call."

"I feel better now than I did at any time last season; the shoulder really hurt me bad last year. The left shoulder still gives me some trouble. It makes me swing differently. I have to adjust. Sometimes I find I'm over-cutting the ball. That is not my natural style. I used to swing and I just knew I could hit the ball hard. I knew when I could hit to right field, when I could pull. Now it's different. I have to force myself more than I ever did. Maybe it's because I'm getting old. Maybe."

"Writers used to say, "You don't drive in 100 runs," but they forget I played for the worst team in baseball from 1955 to 1960. I didn't drive in runs because there was no one to drive in."

"Blass, if you pitch me inside, I will hit forty-three home runs a year, thirty-seven of them off you!"

"If you pitch me inside, I'll hit the ball to McKeesport."

"You pitch me the fuck inside and I hit the fucking ball to McKeesport."

"Blass, I'm going to tell you something: You pitch me inside, I hit the ball to Harrisburg.'"

"Blass, I 'm going to tell you this. You pitch me inside; I will hit the freaking ball to Harrisburg."

"If you pitch me inside, I will hit the fucking ball to Harrisburg."

"Why should I be more ‘cautious, careful,’ as you say? I stay in the big leagues as long as I do because I play only one way. I know I take too many, maybe. I know I should not sometimes dive for the ball—or hit the wall trying to catch it— as much as I do. But you catch the ball, you help your team. You don’t catch it, you don’t help your team. I believe playing, how you say, ‘all out’ has prolonged my career. If a ballplayer starts loafing, he tends to lose that little push that is so necessary, so important. You get lazy, won’t take even the smallest chance; kind of lose interest. Your rhythm, I guess it is, gets all messed up. Fly balls start falling on you, when they should not. And you find yourself not getting around on the ball like you should. Once you lose this ‘little push,’ then it is awfully hard to get back in the groove… get yourself going again. Your ambition – desire – suffers. And you become the kind of ballplayer you don’t want to be."

"Sure, sure I wanted out of this game. But I don't care what these writers say. My neck was wrenched about two weeks ago and I aggravated it when I continued to play. But I didn't want to miss any games when we are trying to win the pennant. We caught the Mets and we came here tonight leading them, and I think I had something to do with it. Like I say, I don't care what these writers think. They never believe me when I say I hurt. One time before, they wrote so much about me just imagining my back was hurting me that the manager decided to have me checked over by a specialist. I never did see the report, but Danny said he had been assured my complaint was legitimate, and that he was sorry there had been a misunderstanding. I couldn't know what he meant, but after that he never failed to ask about my back before he put my name in the lineup for the second game of doubleheaders."

"Somebody say once that I like to goof off; that I'm lazy because I don't play winter ball and make a habit of reporting late to spring training. What these fellows don't know is that I have no time for winter ball. When I return home to Puerto Rico after the baseball season, I open my camp right away. It is a camp for boys, where they can come and learn how to play baseball. They come from all ages and get a lot of help. Cepeda spends some time with me. He teaches how to play first base. José Santiago shows them how to pitch. 'Chito' Rios, he comes from Mayagüez and gives base running instruction. Even Frank Lane has been there and talked to my kids. Jim Brown has been there, and Tommy Nobis, to talk football, although most of our kids have little interest in football. But they like to hear these fellows. Bill Russell has been there; so have Oscar Robertson and all the Harlem Globetrotters. The boys love it, and I really believe it has meant a lot in the development of some fine young men for later life."

"Yes, there is some truth to the accusation that I resented being bypassed for Groat in 1960. He had a good season but the records will show I contributed a lot more to winning the pennant. I think, too, that a lot of the writers were moved by their racial feelings. An MVP endorsement looks good in the record of a potential manager, and it'll be a long time before we have a colored manager; longer still before there will be a colored Puerto Rican manager. Anyway, it wasn't my 'imagination' hurting me when I complained, it really was my neck. [...] And the doctor says the wrenching of my neck was caused by some unconscious adjustment I had been trying to make because of my back."

"Last year when I hurt my shoulder, I couldn't hit high pitches, but they kept throwing me low and away, and I could hit that pitch without much pain. "Look, he gets three hits, but he says he's in pain," they say, but they don't know that I can't go for the high pitch, and I'm not about to tell them!"

"They pay for their ticket, let them do what they want to do. I get mad. One of these days, I’ll leave my uniform on the field and keep on walking. If I don’t hustle or something like that, I’d say that it would be good for me to be booed. The problem with me is hitting. You hit .280, it’s a pretty good average. But I used to hit .350, so .280 is not good enough. A lot of times in my career, I play when I shouldn’t play. I say as long as I can run and swing a bat, I play. That was my biggest mistake. One time I play with a shoulder – it hurts so bad, I can’t lift it. I hit into a double play. Then they hit a ball to the outfield and I can’t bend down to pick it up, so they boo me. The season start, I hurt my finger the last weekend of spring training. I couldn’t grip the bat right and I was trying to pull everything. They would like for you to start every year from the beginning, right on top, boom, boom, boom. Now I start a season a little bit slowly, so they boo."

"Look, here is the way I swing. I swing hard. I don’t punch the ball. I have bat control, and I don’t go for home runs, but I still swing as hard as some fellows who swing for the fences. My back is practically to first base when I finish the swing. I have to turn around before I can start running. Sometimes the ball is in the fielder’s hands before I drop the bat."

"Jackie, what is the matter with you? You did not lose this ball game. We all lost it. No one man loses any ball game. You remember that. You are a good ball player. We need you to play shortstop. Come now, get dressed, let's go out and have a steak."

"How do you measure a man? How can you compare one man with another unless you’ve seen them both? I cannot tell about other men who played long ago. I saw Mays. To me, Willie Mays is the greatest who ever played. But he is forty and has had his days – he is tired. San Francisco is all tired. For them it was not easy. For twenty days, they were in a tight pennant race and don’t know where they are. Mentally, they were going to be tight. You could see Mays is tired."

"You know, when the season is over a lot of guys go home and eat peanuts and drink beer and they show up in spring training with a big belly. I will go home and start working on my body right away. My right shoulder is not the way it is supposed to be. I'm not going to wait until spring training and hope it is all right. I will work on it when I get home."

"I could always hit a home run, but if I try to do that all the time, maybe I not hit over .300. I am more valuable to my team hitting .330, .340, than I am swinging for home runs."

"I want everybody in the world to know that this is the way I play all the time. All season, every season. I gave everything I had to this game."

"I couldn't stand the pain. All the doctors said there was nothing wrong with my spine because there was nothing they could see. But the chiropractors said they thought they could help and they did."

"One day I could play and three days later I couldn't move. Our relationship was shaky because if one day you can play and the next day you can't, a person has to wonder if there's not something wrong in your head. But we straightened it out."

"When I put on my uniform, I feel I am the proudest man on earth. The players should pay the people to come and see us play."

"I get a kick out of people thinking I'm a very young fellow. They tell me, "You can play 10 more years." Yeah, I can play 10 more bad years."

"Bragan and Walker talked to me the most. The fellow who helped me most of all was Buck Clarkson. I think he lives in Donora. He managed me in the Puerto Rican League when I was a boy. He used to see me throw a ball from the outfield 400 feet on the line, most of the time wild. And I hit good. Buck Clarkson used to tell me I am as good as anybody in big leagues. That helped me a lot."

"I only wiggle my neck when I'm ready for work. You never see me wiggling it when I'm off the field."

"Everybody started cheering but I didn't know why. I didn't know what was going on until I looked at the scoreboard and saw the message. When I singled in the first inning, the second base umpire told me, "If you get another hit it looks like I'll have to give you the ball." I wondered what he was talking about. I have so much bad press in Pittsburgh. Whatever I have done, I have done myself, and with the help of the fans. When somebody like Richie Hebner hits a home run, the press gives him a big build-up. All they say about me is that I am hard-headed and don't get along with anybody."

"First base is not for me. I think a man shortens his career there instead of prolonging it. I keep my legs in good shape by running back and forth from the outfield to the dugout."

"I dedicate this hit to the fans in Pittsburgh. They have been wonderful. And to the people back in Puerto Rico, but especially to the fellow who pushed me to play baseball, Roberto Marin. He made me play. He carried me around looking for the man to sign me. [...] I dedicate that hit to the person I owe most to in professional baseball, Roberto Marin."

"No, no. Bill should play two or three more years. Talk to him. Tell him he can get in shape. I know he can play better second base than anybody. He is two years younger than I am. He is the greatest second baseman of all time, a real super star. But people forget too fast what he has done for the Pirates. Nobody I ever saw could field with him. He won the World Series with his home run against the Yankees. I don't like to see him retire."

"My body is old and tired, but I'll bounce back. I think Mazeroski can do the same if he takes off a few pounds and gives them to me. I need them."

"Willie Mays is the greatest ball player I've ever seen. I never saw Joe DiMaggio play, but if Joe DiMaggio was better than Willie Mays, he belongs in Heaven."

"The American League must be that fountain of youth they talk about. A lot of National League pitchers did pretty good in the American League this year."

"When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a baseball player. This is something I think about. The more I think about it, I'm convinced that God wanted me to play baseball."

"The first hero that I have … I would say was Monte Irvin, when I was a kid. And I used to watch Monte Irvin play when I was a kid – I idolized him. I used to wait in front of the ballpark just for him to pass by so I could see him."

"I was too aggressive. I should not have been so foolish. I am a craftsman in baseball. I look like rookie."

"I tell you, I'd be lucky to hit .280 in New York. There are too many people in New York, and if you don't want to be a bad guy, you must go to all the dinners and meetings. How could I concentrate on baseball? I have so many good friends in New York that it is hard to turn them down. But it is that way every place on the road. I tell the hotel that I will not be disturb,[sic] but people find me anyway."

"It's a shame he couldn't play in the majors due to the color barrier. I've always insisted Pancho would have been one of the best ever."

"My name eet is Roberto Enricque Clemente Walker. I no use Enricque—spell him E–n–r–i–c–q–u–e —and I no use Walker. Him make too long for name. Just Roberto Clemente, thas all. This Enricque is middle name. Walker eet is my mother's name. In Puerto Rico, people she use father's and mother's name. I use Roberto Clemente in thees country."

"Roberto Clemente doesn't care too much for New York. Says there are too many people and everybody is in too much of a hurry. He had one ride on the subway with Felipe Montemayor as his guide and they got lost."

"Roberto's nickname of "Momen" comes from his cousin "For no reason.""

"Som' co-lored people I understand saying "Clemente, he do not like co-lored people." This is not the truth at all. Look at me. Look at my skin. I am not of the white people. I hav' color the skin. That is the first theeing I straighten out. I like all the people, both co-lored and white; and since I am co-lored myself, I would be seely hate myself. Thees' people tell me I don't like colored people. Well, I use this time to tell deeferent. I like myself, so I also like the people who are like me."

"In Canada they no have much segregation. But one day I am signing autographs and talking to white man and his wife outside park, and this other man say, "You not supposed to talk to white woman." I say, "No, I talk to the one I want. I talk to my friends. You believe in that stuff if you want. I don't do it.""

"Sometimes people stop me in the street and ask me eef I am Harry Belafonte. When I say no, they get mad and walk away."

"The first thing the average white Latin American player does when he comes to the States is associate with other whites. He doesn't want to be seen with Latin Negroes, even from his own country, because he's afraid people might think he's colored."

"The more sleep and rest you get, the prettier you become. Like me."

"I like to work with kids. I'd like to work with kids all the time, if I live long enough."

"The Latin American player doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. Neither does the Negro player, unless he does something spectacular, like Willie Mays. We have self-satisfaction, yes. But after the season is over, nobody cares about us. Zoilo Versalles was the Most Valuable Player in the American League, but how many times has he been asked to make appearances at dinners or meetings during the winter? Juan Marichal is one of the greatest pitchers in the game, but does he get invited to banquets? … I am an American citizen … but some people act like they think I live in the jungle someplace. This is a matter of sports, of a man’s ability and his accomplishments. What matters what language he speaks best?"

"I learned the right way to live from my parents. I never heard any hate in my house. I never heard my father say a mean word to my mother, or my mother to my father, either. During the war, when food was hard to get, my parents fed their children first and they ate what was left. They always thought of us."

"I owe a lot to the opportunities I have had. I think we have a great country, and the day that all people of all races have equal opportunity to be useful to their community, we're going to have a better country."

"I'm no fighter. Besides, Willie is too big. And he is a real nice man. All those big fellows—Ted Kluszewski, Gil Hodges, Frank Howard—they're nice fellows. I saw Howard get mad only once. He picked up an umpire by his ears and held him like a puppy!"

"Everything is so new in Puerto Rico. I wanted to build something the way Puerto Rico started, something from the old land."

"There was no use for me to say yes because I am not a politician. Say, for example, I was elected and a situation came up where I was told I had to compromise. I could never do that; I can't compromise."

"I've had two lives: the first one when I was born in Puerto Rico in 1935 [sic] and the second when I came to Pittsburgh to play baseball in 1955. I have been very lucky and I feel gifted to be able to play well."

"A lot of my countrymen are here tonight, and I don't really know whether I love you more or them more, but I do know this: you people in Pittsburgh are the greatest fans in the world!"

"I have had two lives: when I was born in Puerto Rico in 1935 [sic] and when I came to play baseball in Pittsburgh in 1955. I have two loves: my family – my mother, my father and my wife and three sons – and my fans."

"We are on the field doing what we love to do. They have to work in the mill or other places eight hours a day, and work much harder than us and they pay their way in."

"I really don't know if I cried. If I did, it was tears not of pain, but of the sentiments my people are made of."

"I am a very proud person. Baseball has helped send my brothers and nephews to school. But more than that, baseball has become my whole life. Accomplishment is something you cannot buy. If you have a chance and don’t make the most of it, you are wasting your time on this earth. It is not what you do in baseball or sports, but how hard you try. Win or lose, I try my best."

"If we have respect for our fathers and we have respect for our children, we will have a better life. I watched on TV when America sent men to the moon, and there were a lot of people whose names weren't given who helped make it possible. You don't have the names of those who run the computers and other things. But they worked together and this is what you have to have ... Chinese, American, Jewish, black and white, people working side by side. This is what you have to do to make this a better life. When you can give opportunity to everybody, we won't have to wait to die to get to heaven. We are going to have heaven on earth."

"We must all live together and work together no matter what race or nationality. If you have an opportunity to accomplish something that will make things better for someone coming behind you, and you don't do that, you are wasting your time on this earth."

"Anytime I feel something is wrong I'm gonna say something. Baseball has changed in many ways since I first came to the big leagues. Ballplayers feel they can speak up much more now than they did then. I spoke up even then. [...] I didn't like some of the things the white players said to Roberts so I said some things to them that they didn't like."

"When I came here, you seldom saw a black player get together with a white player and go someplace together after a ball game. Now it is more common. Yes, there has been improvement but some things still remain the way they were. I cannot, for example, go up to a white player and say to him, "Are you for real?" or "Are you concerned with me at all?" But now, once in a while, they will come to you and ask you about it. They don't turn their backs on you like they used to."

"My greatest satisfaction comes from helping to erase the old opinion about Latin American and black ballplayers. People had the wrong opinion. They never questioned our ability but they considered us inferior in our station of life. Simply because many of us were poor, we were thought to be low class. Even our integrity was questioned. I don't blame the fans for that; I blame the writers. They made it look like we were something different entirely from the white players. We're not. We're the same."

"Quien Soy? (Who Am I?)I am a small point in the eye of the full moon. I only need one ray of the sun to warm my face. I need only one breeze from the Alisios to refresh my soul. What else can I ask if I know that my sons love really love me?."

"I have made a great study of the spine ever since I had my spine trouble, and now I know what to do and it doesn’t involve doctors, operations or anything like that. Why, in Puerto Rico last winter I helped 29 people who had back trouble and one of them was a doctor who couldn’t get medical relief. Ask Willie (Stargell), ask Danny Murtaugh what I did for them. They had back trouble and I fixed them, not by any tricks or anything, but because I know how to manipulate and bring relief. A lot of people think if you have a pain or tightness here, it can be worked out by rubbing that area. It can’t. The way to do it is to know the trigger points. Sometimes you have to manipulate a few inches from the spot that’s hurting because that's maybe where the muscle that controls the soreness is. It’s all very complicated, but believe me, it works. I was suffering so bad I could hardly walk [in 1957]. All the x-rays and medical doctors couldn’t find out what was wrong. Then a man in St. Louis, a chiropractor, called me and offered to help. The ballclub was against it and said they wouldn’t be responsible, but I was desperate and the pain was driving me crazy. But the man, who told me I had a curvature of the spine, was able to fix me up. It was after that I became interested in studying the human back and ever since I’ve never had trouble I couldn't take care of. Back trouble is a painful thing and people who don’t have the problem don’t know how lucky they are."

"That's what I like about the World Series. It gives me a chance to talk with lots of writers, a chance for them to understand me better than in the past. When Roberto Clemente is mentioned, he is always mentioned with injuries. They say I'm moody, selfish, temperamental. That's not the real me. I was born with a serious face. If you know my life, if you know me well by taking the time to learn to know me, then you'll understand me. Most places I go, people say "smile." I don't like that. I don't believe in being a hypocrite. If the occasion is for smiling, I will be smiling. I'm a very happy person."

"He is a proud man. Proud of Puerto Rico, his native land, and proud to be a professional baseball player. He is a strong believer in the dignity of man and that all people, no matter their color, should work together. "I don't want to be a big shot. From head to toes, Roberto Clemente is good as Richard Nixon. I believe that. And I think that every man should believe that about himself. I am not dumb. I went to school. I made grades. But when I came here, I couldn't speak English. All I could say was, 'Me, Roberto Clemente.' Some of them laugh and say it sounded like, 'Me Tarzan, you Jane.'" He is a self-made man. He took his natural talents and made the most of them, in baseball and in his personal life. He's never abused them. "Some players are wild on the field and off the field. They are made to look like heroes. I get nothing but sarcasm. And people take me for a fool.""

"I would like to be remembered as a player who gave all he had to give. I am no idol, but America needs idols. And don't talk 'Latin America' to me because I was born in Puerto Rico and that is America."

"You see a skeleton in a lab, and they need wires to hold the spine in place. Well, in your body the wires are muscles. When there is a loosening on one side, your pelvis tilts. A spasm occurs when this tilt results in one side of the body supporting more weight than the other. Look at a telephone pole. If the supporting wire on one side is slack and loose, then the wire on the other side becomes tense and tight. In the case of the body, this is the muscle. And it will give you pain. If a man weighs 180 pounds and one side of him supports 90 and the other side 90, he is able to function. If one side supports 110 and the other supports only 70, a problem arises. For one thing, your leg on one side is shorter than the leg on the other."

"I had a couple of endorsements but they never came to nothing. I don't want any. I don't need them. If the people who give them don't think Latins are good enough, I don't think they are good enough. The hell with them. I make endorsements in Spanish countries, and give the money to charity.""

"They call my people 'Spics' in New York. These are poor people struggling to make a living and should be treated like people and not animals."

"I felt kind of bashful when the fans cheered. I'm a very quiet, shy person, although you writers might not believe it because I shout sometimes."

"I sent eleven people there. All of them have families in Puerto Rico. The least I can do is be with them tonight."

"“I doubt if they’ll have any left for me," the National League All-Star shortstop said. Alley referred to the Pirates' signing Roberto Clemente for $100,000 and giving raises to Donn Clendenon, Bob Veale and Manny Mota. "I don’t know how much money they have to give out, but I do know that Clemente is worth $100,000 if those other fellows are," he said, in reference to Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Frank Robinson and Mickey Mantle."

"Roberto Clemente, National League batting champion the past two seasons, is helping teammate Matty Alou wrest the crown from him. "Roberto has helped my hitting," said Alou, a left-handed swinger acquired by the Pittsburgh Pirates last December from the San Francisco Giants. Alou, who has been leading the league since mid-May, said Clemente offers advice when he goes into a slump. "Roberto tells me what is wrong. He and manager Harry Walker have helped me. I used to be a pull hitter at Candlestick Park. Now I can hit to left field because Clemente and Walker have shown me how.""

"Most Latin players don’t look for the walk. They go up to the plate aggressively. It’s a basic thing. You try to throw the ball past me; I try to hit the ball. Clemente did – how do you say? – what comes natural. He developed his talents. Almost everybody in our country is like that but Roberto, with the way he hit, made the American scouts leave us alone and let us play the game our way."

"I never saw him loafing to first. He used to run hard every ground ball, every fly ball. It was amazing the way he played the game. Because sometimes you just don’t feel like running hard when you think it’s going to be an out. If you see him before the game, you didn’t believe he was so tough a player. He used to play hurt every day. Used to complain he didn’t sleep. But when the game started, he was just marvelous."

"What Bobby does I want to do. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't be where we are."

"It used to really piss me off when the writers called Clemente a hypochondriac. I tried over the years with many writers and announcers to clarify a lot of those things about Roberto’s injuries, but it seems to have gone right over their heads. Every time he was injured – every time – you would read this hypochondriac bit, about him always being injured, always being out of the lineup. Well, any man that can hold the Pirates’ all-time record for games played in no way can be called a hypochondriac. A hypochondriac is a man who is constantly afraid of illness, who can’t perform. Mr. Clemente performed – and he performed as well as, if not better than, any player in this game’s history."

"He played with injuries other guys wouldn’t have come to the ballpark with because he knew his presence made a difference. I’ve seen him play with Achilles tendons stretched tighter than a drum. One year he had a bad knee, all swollen and stiff. I told him not to play, that he could be out for weeks if he did, or jeopardize his whole career. ‘No, we need a few wins,’ he said. And that kind of thing was not unusual. He got hurt by the drive he put into a game. He didn’t know how to pace himself. He played every game the same: hard. A lot of guys played winter ball too, but for them it was a vacation – good money, their wives came down, a chance to sit in the sun. They don’t give a damn – win, lose, or draw. He played a whole season down there every year, and for him there wasn't any difference between the winter league and the big league. Hell, he played twice as many games as Aaron or Mays. Aaron's one of the greatest, but I’ve seen him hit a thousand ground balls and then trot down the line. You ever seen Clemente do that – even once?"

"He has these huge, strong hands. People always thought that because he hit with such power, he was this big guy. He wasn't, especially by today's standards. He came into spring training at 185 pounds. By the end of the season, he was 181. The power came from those hands."

"We were afraid that would happen. But we had to take the chance. We just couldn't let the Giants or Braves get him. It was worth the $6,000 to make sure. Clemente can't hurt us as much with the Pirates as with the other two."

"That's right. We didn’t want the Giants to have Clemente and a fellow like Willie Mays in the same outfield. It was a cheap deal for us. The Giants wanted him badly but didn’t want to make him a bonus boy and have him sit on the bench. But we didn’t care as long as we nailed him. We put him on the Montreal roster, exposing him to the unrestricted draft, figuring we could get back our original investment. We have a letter from the commissioner’s office to the effect that we could get back our investment if he were drafted, but we then we later learned that all we could collect was $4,000. So, all right. It cost us $6,000, actually; but the Giants didn’t get him, which was the important thing."

"We knew we were going to lose him in the draft, so why should we spend the time developing him for another team? We used the players who would belong to us, and Clemente played defense in the late innings or went up as a pinch hitter."

"Leo's right. We didn’t want the Giants to have Willie Mays and Clemente in the same outfield and be the big attraction in New York. The main point was to keep the Giants from claiming him... The main point is that the Giants don't have him. We were very friendly with the fellow who owned Clemente's contract in Puerto Rico and had to give Clemente what he wanted because the Braves were after him also."

"We once owned Clemente. We signed him for a $10,000 bonus and sent him to Montreal for seasoning. He was a 19-year-old kid, right out of the winter leagues, and there wasn't any room for him on the roster of the big club. We ordered Montreal to keep him under wraps any way they could. Up there he was eligible for the baseball draft, and we didn't want to lose anybody as promising as this kid. On the other hand, we didn't realize how great he was or we'd have put him on the big club right away and protected him from the draft regardless of who we'd have to unload. At Montreal, to keep Clemente from looking too good, our manager, Max Macon, kept moving him in and out of the lineup. Poor Roberto! He'd strike out and Max would let him play the whole game. If he hit a home run, Max would get him out of there quick. He was benched one game because he had hit three triples the day before. He was taken out for a pinch hitter with the bases loaded in the first inning of another game. You can imagine how this must have puzzled the kid. The net effect was to hold down his betting average down to .257, and we figured we were safe from the draft. [...] That year Pittsburgh finished last last in the league and had the first draft choice. There goes Clemente! Am I admitting that we blew it? I certainly am. But then I always say: of all the different kinds of sight, the best kind is hind."

"At the time, the Dodgers were so well stocked, the club simply did not have room for Clemente, despite his immense ability. So we attempted to hide him at Montreal. We did everything in our power to ensure that Clemente would not shine. We did not play him against left-handed pitchers, we played him only against the best right-handed pitchers; he was benched the day after hitting three triples in a game. It worked to an extent – we kept his average down to .257."

"Clemente, who was right-handed, was allowed to hit only against right-handed pitchers. "We figured he'd hit .120 and nobody would be interested," said Buzzie Bavasi, then the Dodgers general manager. "He hit anyway. You can't hide the great ones." In Pittsburgh, ex-Dodgers boss Branch Rickey knew all about the young slugger and Brooklyn brass knew that Rickey knew. "When Mr. Rickey left for Pittsburgh, he wanted me to go along," Bavasi said. "I told him I wanted to stay with the Dodgers and he said if there was ever anything he could do for me to let him know." Now, there was something. Bavasi flew to Pittsburgh. "I went in to see Mr. Rickey and I told him he sort of owed me a favor. I said I was going to leave a young pitcher, John Rutherford, available for the draft and would appreciate it if the Pirates would take him instead of Clemente. Mr. Rickey agreed." Bavasi's coup fell apart the day before the draft during National League meetings in New York when Rickey and Dodgers owner Walter O'Malley got into an argument over--what else?--money. "They called me and said, 'The deal's off,'" Bavasi said. "And that's how they got Clemente.""

"Bavasi thought he would be a star. Whatever O’Malley thought of Clemente’s talent, however, did not matter as much as the matter of his color. He made it clear to Bavasi that bringing Clemente to Brooklyn would be a problem – less for the fans, he explained, than for the players, who might think that too many black men were taking jobs. Bavasi suggested they put the question to one of the players – Jackie Robinson. Bavasi explained the situation to Robinson, who asked who the team would trade or sell to make room to bring Clemente up to the Dodgers. Bavasi thought George Shuba, a white player, would be the one to go. Shuba was an outfielder, a good, though not in Bavasi’s estimation, great player. He was, however, a popular one. Dropping him to bring up Clemente, who might not even be ready to start, Robinson suggested, would not be wise – to bring up Clemente now, he advised Bavasi, would set back by five years the effort to truly integrate the game."

"Bavasi said he had similar regret over his inability to protect Roberto Clemente on the Dodgers' major league roster in the Rule 5 draft of 1954, and that it was basically a racial decision by a club that had broken baseball's color barrier with the signing of Robinson. Bavasi said two O'Malley partners, Jim Mulvey, then president of United Artists Studio, and John Smith, chairman of Pfizer, were reluctant to put more minorities on the club. "Mulvey and Smith operated companies that had a lower minority ratio," Bavasi said. "They felt that if the Dodgers went to 40% it would have reflected badly on their own companies." Clemente, who had played only one season in the Dodger minor-league system, was selected by the Pittsburgh Pirates, whose general manager was former Dodger general manager Branch Rickey. He might have upheld a private arrangement with Bavasi to allow Clemente to slide through, according to Bavasi, if Rickey and O'Malley had not engaged in a heated argument during a National League meeting before the draft. Clemente, of course, went on to produce a Hall of Fame career, and the Dodgers could only grieve. "We would have won four more pennants," said Bavasi, still pained by the would-haves, the regrets, but insistent that his passion for the game and love of talking about it remain stronger than ever."

"Walter O’Malley had two partners who were concerned about the number of minorities we would be bringing to the Dodgers...The concern had nothing to do with quotas, but the thought was too many minorities might be a problem with the white players. Not so, I said. Winning was the important thing. I agreed with the board that we should get a player’s opinion and I would be guided by the player’s opinion. The board called in Jackie Robinson. Hell, now I felt great. Jackie was told the problem, and, after thinking about it awhile, he asked me who would be sent out if Clemente took one of the spots. I said George Shuba. Jackie agreed that Shuba would be the one to go. Then he said Shuba was not among the best players on the club, but he was the most popular. With that he shocked me by saying, and I quote: ‘If I were the GM [general manager], I would not bring Clemente to the club and send Shuba or any other white player down. If I did this, I would be setting our program back five years."

""O’Malley said flatly that winter he didn’t want any more colored players on the team. It was complicated, but it was a combination of what he thought the fans would accept, what he thought the team could handle and the fact that he got heat from some of his partners who worried that the more integrated the Dodgers became, the more pressure they felt to hire blacks in their own businesses." Bavasi said that Jackie Robinson himself expressed misgivings about Clemente. [...] In the case of Clemente, Bavasi said that Robinson was concerned that if the Dodgers activated him, he would take the roster position of George "Shotgun" Shuba – a journeyman outfielder and pinch-hitter who was popular, white, and once Robinson's 1946 teammate on the Montreal Royals."

"I had a deal with Mr. Rickey. Mr. Rickey asked me to go to Pittsburgh with him. And said, I’m sorry I was going to stay with the Dodger group, whom I knew. And he wrote me a letter saying if anytime he could help me, all I had to do was pick up the phone. So, we couldn’t bring Clemente up [from Montreal] because we had to keep him on the club under the old rules if he got more than a $4,000 bonus. And I know that Rickey had first [pick in the] draft, so I flew to Pittsburgh. And he agreed with me that he would take John Rutherford that would have let us keep Clemente. So I’m home free and I call Fresco and we were happy about it. And this was a Friday. The draft is on a Monday. Sunday evening Branch Rickey, Jr. called and said “Buzzie, the deal is off” and I said, “Why?” And he said, “My father and Walter had an argument and he called my father every obscene name in the book therefore he’s going to take Clemente” and that was it."

"We were teammates at Montreal in 1954 and I was trying to work my way back to the majors. Clemente was an 18-year-old kid [sic] from Puerto Rico who could do everything. The Dodgers gave him a $10,000 bonus in 1953 and tried to hide him at Montreal. Clyde Sukeforth came up to see us in several games, scouting for the Pirates, and I had been told Sukey was looking at me since the Pirates would have first pick in the winter draft. But Clemente took his eye and when Sukey began asking me questions about Clemente, I knew then he had changed his mind and was going to select Clemente instead. There wasn't anything Clemente couldn't do and the Dodgers issued orders not to play him too much so the scouts might feel he wasn't ready. They even used him at third base occasionally to throw off the scouts but anybody who ever saw a ball game could tell this kid had a future."

"The thing that amazed me is that sometimes one of his legs would be up in the air and he’d be hitting, and it’d still go out of the ballpark. He was just strong."

"That shutout belongs to Clemente."

"Sometime this year, somebody is going to go from first to third against us on a single to right. And I’m going to be shocked. It’s never happened before, in all the time I’ve been in the big leagues, because Clemente has always been there. I’ll find myself backing up first base on the play, because Clemente knew the lead runner wasn’t going to try anything against him, so he’d try to pick off the hitter taking too big a turn."

"When Clemente was out there in right field, there was nothing more a pitcher could want. I figured if the ball was hit to right and stayed in the ballpark, I had a chance. Some way, if it was humanly possible, he would get there. If they had a rally going, I knew he might make an impossible catch and double off a runner and the rally would die. With him, it was like having four outfielders. I hope somebody has the film of a catch he made a few years ago in Houston. He was playing in right center and Bob Watson hit one down the line. Robby went into the wall— not just running but leaping into it—and made a catch that saved the game."

"You saw him going all out on every day at 38 and it embarrassed you if you didn’t try as hard as he did. Whether you’d been playing 12 years or you were a rookie, a little bit of that rubbed off on you. And he was consistent; day in and day out he led us. You knew that if you didn’t pitch well or didn’t hit well, he would be great almost every day. In his last three years, we went to the ballpark every day expecting to win. His consistency was a big part of that."

"Robbie and I had become very close, so that I really leaned on him. We had fun in the clubhouse, but he meant more than that to me. He was the Pirates. Robbie had grown so much. He really kept up the spirit of the team—by the way he played, and by the way he helped everyone. Everything seemed out of order this season [1973]—Robbie was gone."

"He was different … he wasn’t like the rest the rest of us. He took professionalism to a higher degree. After a game, we all wanted to go out for a beer. He wouldn’t go. He was compelled by baseball."

"It passes into a phase where it’s just such a delight to watch him play, and a delight to have him in right field when you’re pitching. He had that gift – he was an exciting enough ballplayer that he could turn a 10-year veteran into a 10-year-old kid watching baseball. Most times in between innings, when I'd come off the field from pitching, I'd go into the clubhouse and wander around because I was always kind of high strung. But when Clemente was going to bat, I'd make sure I was out on the bench watching."

"I all but tackled him and at my age I'm glad I didn't. I knew we had the game tied and I was afraid Clemente would be thrown out at the plate. At that stage, I wanted to play it safe with the winning run on third and none out. But Clemente evidently didn't hear me or simply had his mind made up he could go all the way. Now I'm glad he did. What a finish that was."

"Bragan smiled about it yesterday afternoon. He was asked if Clemente had been thrown out at the plate and had the Pirates lost in extra innings, would he have fined Clemente? "How could you fine a player for driving in three runs we needed to tie?" That seemed like a rather good explanation."

"He's worth every penny of a half-million dollars to me. That's what the other clubs would have to give in cash or equivalent player material to get him."

"The best way to describe Roberto Clemente is to say that if he were playing in New York, they’d be comparing him to DiMaggio. I would say his greatness is limited only by the fact that he does not hit the long ball as consistently and by the fact that he is not playing in New York – or even in Chicago or Los Angeles."

"Dear Sirs: I feel compelled to write you concerning your article, "The World's Toughest Batting Orders—As Selected by Ten Star Major League Pitchers," which appeared in the March 31 Family Weekly. I think it is a shame that such unproven players such as Dave Concepcion are placed in a lineup of "toughest outs." I agree that Hank Aaron, Billy Williams, Rod Carew and Willie Stargell are among the greatest hitters the game has ever known, but it certainly did not take your panel long to forget Roberto Clemente."

"Clemente was just a kid then, his second year up. He was a real introvert – very quiet, morose almost. But he performed – man, did he perform! And he had tremendous pride. But I learned one thing about him early on – if he didn't feel like playing, you'd better let him sit. Wherever I managed, two hours before the game started, that lineup was posted on the board. I always wanted a man to know if he was starting. Now and then Clemente would come to me and say, ‘I don't feel like playing.’ If it had been somebody else, I would have asked him what the hell he was talking about. But not Clemente. When he didn’t want to play, he wouldn’t play – and that’s all there was to it. It didn’t happen very often, but it happened. It was usually a backache that he complained about. How serious it was, I don’t know – but I do know that he believed it was serious and that he was sincere about it. Remember – this was before he was a great star, so you had to believe he was sincere about his aches and pains and not trying to take advantage of his status."

"Roberto Clemente was the best right fielder I saw play in the majors. Not the best hitter, but the best right fielder!"

"The quality of his play was directly indicative of his values. He gave all he had every game. He was kind and helpful to all of us younger players. He had a desire to be appreciated and drove himself to higher levels of performance than others. He recognized the need to excel in all phases of the game, and he encouraged everyone to do the same. Some others could do what he could, but nobody matched his flair. I loved watching him play because he loved playing."

"We loved him. There were times he would get frustrated because we didn’t play at the level he expected us to play. I’ll never forget the time he decided to play to prove his points. He was a hero down there, the people went crazy and it helped attendance. [...] He was a wonderful man and a great player, but as far as running a game he didn’t do a great job. He had a very short temper at times about the way we played, because let’s face it – he took it very seriously. It was his team, and he was going to get the credit or the blame for how the team played. As a result of our lackluster play at times, he used to get very mad at us and the guys would put the towels over their faces and kind of laugh a little bit – not at him, as a reaction to what was happening."

"We’d cut up all the time. We used to psyche him up for a game by kidding him about being a hypochondriac. "Hey," we’d say, "did you hear what so-and-so wrote about you?" "Who? Where’d he write it?" Sometimes, on buses to the airport, I’d use my impersonations to loosen up the club. Impromptu songs, with just the rankest of lyrics, the ranker they are the funnier it becomes. I’d do it sometimes when the club was uptight. Not too many people notice when you do things, but Roberto came up to me and said, "You do things when they’re needed.""

"Clemente’s death made a tremendous difference, because he carried a big load by producing consistently. Everything other guys used to do was gravy. They were the icing on the cake. Their runs didn’t count in a situation; they just put the game out of reach. This year, those guys could not be the icing. They mean the game. The pressure is on them to produce in key situations time after time after time. That is a far greater mental discipline than having to produce when it doesn’t count."

"Roberto used to say, "People pay to see me perform. If I go out there 75 percent, I’m not giving them the performance they paid to see." What Roberto didn’t understand was that his 75 percent was better than other guys’ 100 percent."

"Clemente can do so much for the Pirates. I don’t think there’s a more colorful player in the league and he’s probably the most popular player in Pittsburgh. He has as much ability as any player in the game, yet, great as he is, he could be greater. He could be our leader, the man we need to show us the way. I’m trying to get him to realize how good he is. You know, Clemente is very emotional and sometimes he’s controlled by the way the team is going. If we’re winning, he’s hitting and doing everything expected of him. But when we hit a slump, Clemente’s spirit gets down, too. If he can get the idea he’s the real leader, he can do the job for us. This [1963] isn't a good year for Clemente. He can be better, much better. With his ability, I feel any time he bats under .350, it isn’t a good season. He shouldn’t settle for anything less than that. When they talk of potential .400 hitters, they never mention Clemente, yet he has all the tools to reach that figure. He hits line drives, he hits to all fields and he has power. And he can run. There’s no question of his arm and his fielding. When you take all of this in consideration, you can see he hasn’t reached his potential."

"Clemente will not be one, two or three among the top hitters. He will be one. Period."

"The one player who impressed me the most was Roberto Clemente, both as a man and as an athlete. He was one of the nicest individuals and just tremendous as a ball player. I never saw a better player, although I always regarded Ted Williams as the best hitter. I called him the pure hitter."

"Club: SANTURCE; League: PORTO RICAN Pos. OF; Age 18 Hgt 5'11; Wgt. 175 Bats R; Throws R Name: CLEMENTE ROBERT Arm: A+ GOOD CARRY; Accuracy: A+ Fielding: A GOOD AT THIS STAGE; Reactions: A Hitting: A TURNS HEAD BUT IMPROVING; Power: A+ Running speed: +; Base Running: A Definite Prospect? YES; Has Chance? ____; Fill-In? ____; Follow ____ Physical Condition (Build, Size, Agility, etc.): WELL BUILT—FAIR SIZE—GOOD AGILITY Remarks: WILL MATURE INTO BIG MAN. ATTENDING HIGH SCHOOL BUT PLAYS WITH SANTURCE. HAS ALL THE TOOLS AND LIKES TO PLAY. A REAL GOOD LOOKING PROSPECT! HE HAS WRITTEN THE COMMISSIONER REQUESTING PERMISSION TO PLAY ORGANIZED BALL."

"I like this kid about as much as any young prospect I've seen in years. He can do everything for you. And he wants to learn. I'm just praying no one will notice him at Montreal. He got a small bonus, but it's enough to make him unrestricted in the draft."

"I wanted the big club to put him on the roster. I told Buzzie Bavasi he would be drafted if put at Montreal, that he was a big leaguer right from the start. I can’t divulge the reason he was left off the big club."

"There were 72 tryouts in camp that day, remembers Alex Campanis. One caught his eye just one out ol 72. "How could I miss him?" says Campanis. "He was the greatest natural athlete I have ever seen as a free agent." The tryout was being conducted jointly by the Dodgers of Brooklyn and the Santurce ballclub of San Juan, in the Sixto Escobar Stadium, a structure named after 118 pounds of Puerto Rican dynamite, the bantamweight champ of the world in the mid-thirties. "The first thing we do at the tryout," recalls Campanis, "is ask the kids to throw from the outfield. This one throws a bullet from center, on the fly. I couldn't believe my eyes. 'Uno mas,' I shout and he does it again. I waved my hand, that's enough. Then we have them run 60 yards. The first time I clock him in 6.4. I couldn't believe It. That's in full uniform. 'UNO MAS'," said Campanis again, and again the kid did it in 6.4. They sent the 71 others home. "The only one I asked to hit was this boy, who told me his name was Roberto Clemente," said Campanis. "I'm saying to myself, we gotta sign this sonofagun If he can just hold the bat in his hands. He starts hitting line drives all over the place. I notice the way he's standing in the box, and I figure there's no way he can reach the outside of the plate, so I tell the pitcher to pitch him outside, and the kid swings , with both feet off the ground and hits line drives to right and sharp ground balls up the middle.""

"From the things he did on the field, I figured he was 6’4” and more than 200 pounds. I was really surprised. He looked so small compared to the way I pictured him. I had heard all about his great arm and I began to think that he didn’t have a good arm. You know how Roberto is in spring training – he doesn’t throw hard until maybe a week or two before the season opens. He used to just flip the ball and I used to say to myself, ‘What kind of arm is that?’ Then one day Roberto made one of his throws… you know the kind. Boom – it goes from right field to home plate like a bullet. I became a believer after one throw."

"We'll miss him. Any team would ... this type of super player. If Bobby were here, he'd tell us to do the thing we've always been doing ... go on to win."

"The best player I’ve ever played with was Roberto Clemente—without a doubt. He could do it all. He could hit with power, he could run, he could throw. And at any time, he was a great clutch hitter."

"Along with Stan Musial, Roberto Clemente was the best player I ever played with. He could do it all. He had a great year at bat [in 1960], but what really amazed me was his arm. He was in a different class than Mays, Colavito, all of them. I saw him make throws like no one I have ever seen, and he was accurate. Dick Groat and Bill Mazeroski were bruised all over their arms, legs and chest from his throws into second. He threw so hard that he’d throw a ball that one-hopped from near first base to home and still handcuffed the catcher."

"Clemente was the kind of man that I’d like to have on my team. We were playing one time in St. Thomas, an exhibition game. This was for nothing and here’s a guy making over 100,000 bucks a year. Somebody hit a short fly ball into right field. Here’s Clemente – he took off for the ball, there was a whole pile of rocks there, and the guy makes a helluva diving catch. How many guys are gonna do that, making the kind of money he was making? When he put a baseball uniform on, there was only thing [sic] that Clemente thought: "Give my best and give my all." When he played with the Pirates, that’s all he did."

"I can see now why Clemente was such a great hitter. He hit the same way that Rogers Hornsby said things should be done: "Make the outside part of the plate the closest part because all great pitchers pitch you away, they don’t pitch you in." And Clemente hit most of the balls from shortstop to first base. The left knee would be his strength. The left knee he would always bring back, and when he’d bring his left knee back, he would cock the back at the same time. He would never swing the bat at the baseball; he would always throw the bat at the baseball. Sometimes he would say to me in Spanish: "Joe, look at me, what I’m doing. Always try to drive the ball, don’t swing. When you swing the bat, actually your hands tighten up. If you would just cock the bat and throw the head of the bat ahead of you, it would stop your body from lunging forward." Clemente was a great hitter in that way."

"This is only my opinion, but I think Roberto Clemente was the best player in the league most of the year. He hit like the devil for us the first half of the year. Groat had his best season. He hit well but without power. Clemente hit and with power."

"The big thing about Clemente was that he played hard and went all-out in every game. He did that when he was just a kid, and he did that all the way through his last season. He always had that aggressiveness. I saw that from the first. Maybe it was the thing about him as a ballplayer that people will remember most."

"He came to me right out of high school. I could see he was going a long way. Some of the old-timers didn’t think so, but I could see great ability in Clemente. The main thing I had to do was keep his spirits up. He didn’t realize how good he was. But I could see his potential. I told him he’d be as good as Willie Mays some day – and he was. He had a few rough spots, but he never made the same mistake twice. He had baseball savvy and he listened. He listened to what he was told and he did it. Some of the old pros didn’t take too kindly to a kid breaking into the lineup, but Clemente was too good to keep out."

"I always thought the guy had great ability, but until the last two years I thought he was playing for himself. He kept to himself and it seemed like he didn't want to be bothered with the rest of the team. But in the last two years, he developed into the leader of our ballclub. He has taken control of us and looked after us and that's something he didn't do before. This is the new Clemente. He has great feeling for all the worries of the players. He keeps peace and harmony and he's our good-will ambassador, the intermediary between us and Harry Walker and the front office."

"A lot of people say he's temperamental. All athletes are temperamental to a certain extent but when I was with Pittsburgh, and I'd strike out, Clemente was always there to pep you up. He is the team leader the Pirates need because a lot of the guys go to him. He really is a super star. When I was in Pittsburgh, we had a good many black players and we needed Roberto's mature influence. He helped solidify the relationships many times."

"He is a phenomenal athlete who came to play, and plays when he's hurt. He gives you 100 per cent. [...] When I played winter ball in Puerto Rico, I played in Ponce. Roberto played with San Juan. He would sit out the first half of the season there but play the second half as though his life depended on it. That's how he got in shape. When he reported to spring training in Florida, he was ready."

"He violates many of the tested rules of hitting; by that, I mean he goes against what the greats of hitting like Ty Cobb and Ted Williams have said about hitting. He steps in the bucket but his hands are still there, ready to get the bat around on any pitch. He makes contact. He can wait on the ball and hit it down the first base line harder than most left-handers."

"Playing with Roberto eight years had to help me. He would tell you what the pitchers were throwing—slider, fastball, or curve—and what pitch they would try to get you to hit. All the young kids look up to him, and when they see how he chases a fly ball and makes those diving catches and how he runs everything out going down the first base line; well, it makes a man play harder. No words are needed."

"You watch Roberto and you can’t help getting all psyched. There’s the old man out there busting his ass on every play of the game. Look, I’m 25. If he can play like that, shouldn’t I?"

"After we lost the second game in Baltimore, Clemente came into the clubhouse and he starts screamin’ and said that we’re gonna go back to Pittsburgh and we’re gonna kick their butts three games in a row. And we went back to Pittsburgh and we did exactly that."

"It was like the passing of a torch. I was fortunate to be around those guys and they were my mentors. They showed me how to play the game, how to play the right way and to respect the game. Stargell received the torch and kept it going. I learned so much from those two men and I’ve passed on what I learned to all my players. I can’t say enough about them because they meant so much to me."

"I know that Clemente had a reputation for being a hypochondriac, but I didn’t see it. Bobby did have a lot of injuries, but he usually played with them. I remember one time walked by while Clemente was on the trainer’s table getting rubbed down and said, "Robbie, you sit this one out." And Clemente said, “No, Skip, I play.” Bobby wasn’t a hot dog either. He played the game hard. He ran hard, he slid hard, he threw hard—all the time, even in practice. Bill Virdon said, "He practices the same way he plays." He had that great arm, but I really don’t understand how it held up, because when we took infield, he’d throw like his life depended on it. He had a lot of mannerisms too, and people particularly remember the way he’d rotate his neck before he got into the batter’s box, but he was just trying to get loosened up, he wasn’t showboating."

"I knew he was good when we won the World Series in '60, but I didn't know he was going to have the career he ended up having. He could do anything. He could hit, he could hit with power, he could run, he could field and he could throw with the best of them. He deserves to be in the Hall of Fame. But I don't think he should've gone in when he did. He should've waited the required five years like everyone else. His kids were too young to appreciate the accomplishment."

"Clemente had the ability, no doubt about it, but he was, for instance, always trying to show off his arm. He was always trying to throw out runners at the plate, instead of throwing the ball to the cut-off man and preventing the hitter from taking the extra base. Instead of having runners at first and third, and still having the chance to get a double play, you’d have runners at second and third and no chance to get the double play. It makes it a lot tougher on the pitcher. He wouldn’t throw the ball down where Groat could grab it as the cut-off man or let it go if he thought Clemente’s throw could get the lead runner out. Clemente had a strong arm, but he was always trying to show it off. Early on, he used to throw the ball into the stands, but he got more accurate as he went on. He made some great throws and got some guys out, but there were more times he didn’t get the guy. Little things like that. As a player, you realize the significance of such things. The fan just sees him getting a guy out at home plate. But he did that two out of ten times. It looked great to the fans, and it was great for the Pirates if he got someone out like that. But more often than not, he was putting more pressure on the pitcher."

"Clemente was a great ballplayer. He could hit, run and throw. He was a great ballplayer, one of the better ballplayers I ever saw. Willie Mays was the best; he could beat you more ways than anyone else. As a ballplayer, whenever he wanted to play, there were few who could compare to Clemente. He had God-given talent and ability."

"If a guy is getting paid to play, he should be out there. You don’t sit out because you’ve got an upset stomach. Another guy who will tell you the same thing is Groat. [...] In 1959, when I went 18-1, I cut my hand and had to have stitches. I missed some games, but I came back, with the stitches in my hand, and pitched. I still had scars. I had dropped a glass in a sink, and tried to grab it, and cut myself. I was out ten days. There was a story in the papers that Clemente had pulled a knife on me in an argument and had cut me. It never happened. We never got into any kind of a fight. I was never a fan of Clemente the whole 14 years we were around each other. But it didn’t affect me. I knew he had the ability to play his position. I didn’t let my personal feelings affect my approach. In all the years I played with him, as a person, he just wasn’t my kind of person. Clemente and I never had a disagreement. But we never got close together, either. We talked and associated with each other in the clubhouse. I guess he was something of a hypochondriac, and he wouldn’t play unless he felt perfect."

"At the time, Bob Fontaine, one of the Pirate scouts who signed him, said [Jim] Aldredge could be the next Roberto Clemente."

"He had so much talent he couldn't hide it."

"Bobby always came to me and told me how Murtaugh was against him. I tried to tell him he was wrong but he just wouldn't believe me. Really, Danny was on Bobby's side all the way but Clemente didn't understand. He did more for Bob than Bob realizes. But Bobby is right about some of the writers being against him. They hurt him more than anything, especially about that hypochondriac image. Bobby is one of the greatest players I've ever seen but he's the type who needs to be encouraged by everyone."

"We were amazed at that outstanding arm. You know he used to gun that thing all the way from right field to home plate on the fly. And he liked to show it off a little bit, but... I can recall... I mean the guy had so much talent. We could see it, you know? And really, for a first-year man, he had a lot of confidence, too."

"Everybody looked at Roberto when he came up, they said, "This guy’s not the leader he should be." Well, for God's sake, the guy’s twenty-two years old. I said: "Give the guy a chance." He became a great leader. I think it might’ve happened the 1960 season with us, and it just started going like this [moving hand upwards, diagonally]."

"I think the way Clemente played – running out every hit and running recklessly into the wall – he realized he needed some time off and he took it. So many times I saw him catch balls that went into the gap and he’d personally keep the other guy from getting that extra base. For a pitcher, that was something that was really appreciated. An average outfielder many times will give up the extra base. Often that’s the difference between winning and losing. At Forbes Field, we had one of the toughest right fields to play in baseball. Clemente could play the ball off that cement wall. Clemente would cut off the ball before it could get to the wall; he’d keep it from being a triple – he’d hold it to a single.”"

"He looked so unorthodox at the plate. He was always gyrating, his ass would fly out, and he’d fall down when he swung and missed. Somebody like Don Drysdale would knock him down. He’d get up and hit a line drive. The knockdown didn’t bother him."

"I know Roberto Clemente was a special ballplayer. In San Francisco, for instance, the visitors’ bullpen was along the sideline in right field. I watched the outfielders from there, and all the other outfielders had their backs to the wall in Candlestick Park. Not Clemente. He played at normal depth. If anyone went around the bag at first base too far, he’d throw them out. I saw him do it many times. I don’t remember other right fielders doing that. He had some arm. He might have been quite a pitcher himself."

"Before I came over here to this ball club, I heard how Clemente is always ailing and wanting to sit out games, but everything I heard was bull. He goes full blast all the time. There is only one way I can describe him: unbelievable."

"People used to criticize Roberto for not playing hurt. But he was a team player. He didn’t want to play if he couldn’t go all out, one hundred percent. He wasn't as vocal as Willie Stargell, but he was a leader. All you had to do was watch him play, and you immediately knew how the game should be played."

"At the end of the 1972 season, we had just clinched the National League East title and Roberto had 2,999 hits. The Mets were in town for our final homestand. Everyone was there to see Roberto get his 3,000th hit. I had the opportunity to start my first major league game and get my first major league hit in the same game that Roberto got his 3,000th. Umpire Doug Harvey stopped the game and retrieved the ball for me. After the game,Roberto and I posed for a picture with each of us holding the baseballs from my first hit and what turned out to be his last (regular season) hit. I shall cherish the moment and the photograph forever."

"When he came back to the bench, he said, "That’s why I gave him that pitch in the first at-bat." He was doing things by that time that I never saw anyone do and I haven’t seen anyone do since. He was like a computer. He was set to play baseball. He always knew what he had to do."

"I was sent back to the minors before the season ended, so I didn’t see him again until December 27 when he gave the clinic in Aguadilla, not far from my home. [...] That day in Aguadilla, he spent the whole afternoon under the sun – giving a clinic for the kids. People kept coming up to give him money for Nicaragua, and he insisted that they write out checks so that there’d be no chance of the money being mishandled. At one point he was giving batting pointers, and there was a kid – about eighteen years old – pitching to him. The people in the stands kept yelling, ‘Roberto, bet you can’t hit a homer!’ Finally, on the last pitch, he smacked the ball right out of the stadium. He gave the kid the bat as a souvenir, and somebody else got the ball. Afterward, they erected a small monument to mark the spot where the ball fell. I think that was the last time Roberto swung a bat, and he hit a home run.."

"That boy can't miss becoming a great ballplayer."

"I've never seen a ball hit farther in Wrigley Field than the home run Roberto Clemente sent flying out in the ninth inning. It passed out of view over the left-center bleachers and it must have gone close to 500 feet. Clemente says he never hit one that far before and even the Cubs admit it was the first one they ever saw leave the park at that spot. Ernie Banks said later he never hit one over that fence and never saw one hit as far as this one. Even Rogers Hornsby acknowledged it was the longest he ever saw hit at Wrigley Field."

"I don’t know of anybody who played on the same team with more superstars than I did. I was with ’em all, all except Hank Aaron and Sandy Koufax, whom I don’t count because he was a pitcher. I played with Musial with the Cardinals, Clemente with the Pirates, Richie Allen with the Phillies and Willie Mays with the Giants. The best of ’em? For natural tools, I’d have to say Clemente. All around he was the best ballplayer I ever saw."

"Well, I've always said, after playing with Bobby for '55 though '62, Bobby Clemente was the greatest God-given talent I ever saw in a baseball player. There wasn't anything that he couldn't do as well [as] if not better than anybody in the game that I've ever seen. People don't realize Bobby was built like a Greek God. He had a waist about that big around, and marvelous in the chest—very strong, very strong shoulders, strong arms. Great timing, great instinct..."

"There was nothing on the baseball diamond that he couldn’t do if he wanted to. He could have adapted his hitting style if he wanted to be more of a home run hitter, but [Pirates batting coach] George Sisler wanted him to spray the ball around and be a high percentage hitter."

"If he wanted to lead the league in stolen bases, he could have done that. He was a marvelous base runner and had great instincts. He also had a great, great arm. And he had a great body, strong at the top and a thin waist."

"No doubt about it, Bobby had the greatest God-given talent I ever saw. Bobby was a complete player. What he didn’t understand was the fact that the Most Valuable Player award is not necessarily for the greatest talent. A lot of other things go into it. He was certainly the greatest talent on that team, and you can be both the outstanding player and the MVP. None of us was as gifted as Bobby was. Everybody tries to make a big deal about us, but it was never any problem between us. We never had a cross word. I wasn’t even conscious that he resented me winning it so greatly until deep into the 1961 season."

"As a fielder, I never saw anyone play balls off the right field wall the way Bobby did. And I remember going to Forbes Field as a kid, when it was Paul Waner out there. It was spooky, how Bobby knew how to play that wall."

"If he hadn’t been killed, I could see him playing another five years. Bobby was always in great shape. He worked at it year round. He had a great body, and that was evident from the first day I ever saw him at Fort Myers training camp."

"He almost threw me out one night in St. Louis after I had singled solidly to right field. He almost got me at first. His throw got by the first baseman, otherwise he would have thrown me out. I knew I couldn't run, but that would have been humiliating, to be thrown out from right field on what is supposed to be a single."

"Now if you ask me which player I’d pick first in that same era, I’d go with Henry Aaron and I’d take Mickey Mantle. Aaron could hurt you so many ways and he had that consistent power. Mantle played when he couldn’t walk. Clemente was one of the all-time great players, but I’d take those guys over him."

"Head swinger when he misses ball, tends to lunge. Is inexperienced, but from the information I can get, he learns fast. Never makes the same mistake twice. Rawboned, well-proportioned build. The Montreal boys for the most part tell me he could have played regular on their club in '54 and been of more value than Cassini."

"The only thing you ever hear about Clemente is that he doesn’t hit enough home runs. The criticism is ridiculous, because he could hit 40 a year if he wanted to. He has the greatest physical ability of anybody I’ve seen in a long time. He’s got as much power as anyone on this ballclub. Only Robertson may have a little more."

"[Branch] Rickey was a fanatic about speed, and I guess I am too. And you can see for yourself: the [teams that] are built on speed win. I like to get a stopwatch time on a kid in a sixty-yard dash, because in baseball you run sixty yards more than you do anything: first to third, second to home, center field to right-center. But I never time a hitter from home to first. What good does it do you? Clemente – I don’t think he ever ran to first base under 4.4 or 4.5. That follow-through of his brought him up and toward third base, so it took him three tenths of a second just to get out of the batter’s box, but he was still the fastest man on our club."

"Raul Mondesi is a 40. Clemente and Shawon Dunston were the only 60s we ever had. Dave Parker was a 40."

"His hand looked like it was about twice as long as anybody else’s. That’s what…why he could throw the ball – he just had such a wrist movement. And the same way with the bat – he had very good wrists to play ball."

"Then this 20-year-old kid, Roberto Clemente, whom we drafted out of the Brooklyn organization, has been a welcome surprise. I'd say he's potentially one of the finer players in the game. What I like best about the youngster is his hustle. He likes to play ball. In your last series with us at Pittsburgh, for example, he showed up with a rather high temperature. But Roberto gave it all he was worth."

"I look at my hand and see my World Series ring. It takes 25 guys to make a team, but I know who put that ring over my knuckle – Roberto Clemente."

"Me and some of the other guys were probably making the minimum, $12,500, and here’s Clemente – a guy making $150,000. Some guys who make this money might dog it a bit, but when he hit one back even to the pitcher he’d run to first like the cops were chasin’ him. I remember thinkin’ to myself, ‘Hell, if that guy can do it, I’m gonna do it.’ Let me tell you, it’s hard to go out there every day, but once Clemente crossed over the white line onto the field, I think his philosophy was: If you’re going to go half-ass, no sense doing it. Maybe he made mistakes when he was younger, but in my years with him I don’t think he made a handful of mental mistakes. He threw to the right base, hit the cut-off man, took the extra base when he should, hit behind the runner, sacrificed himself at the plate. Guy on second he’d hit the ball and move the runner along. Next thing, there’s a wild pitch or a sacrifice fly and we win the game. A lot of people leave the ballpark and say, ‘Well, Clemente didn’t do nothing today.’ But Clemente was the guy who hit the guy over to third. And out in the field, not many guys tried going from first to third on him. He’d fire it in accurate, right on the bag. I tagged plenty of guys with two minutes to spare!"

"It was my first year in the Pirate organization; I signed with them in ’71. I lived in Pittsburgh, so when our season was over the Pirates let me come out for batting practice and take ground balls. So I took BP with those guys. Just to watch him take batting practice was something that youngsters should watch and learn. Because with his first round, he would just inside-out the ball and hit everything to right field. Then the next round, he’d move the ball around and start hitting the ball up the middle a little bit. And then in his last few rounds, he’d just start turning on the ball and stinging the ball. He used such a big bat, I recall – a big, long, heavy bat. He was so strong with his hands; the ball just jumped off the bat. When him and Stargell hit – when they were in the cage – you actually didn’t even have to be around the cage to know that one of those two was in the cage hitting. The ball had a different sound coming off their bats. It was like a rifle shot. When the rest of us were in there hitting, it didn’t sound quite like that."

"I remember seeing him in the clubhouse. He was 38 years old when I got to come in there. He had a washboard stomach. He had the body of a 21-year-old."

"Guys like Mazeroski and Face had almost an animosity toward Clemente. It upset them when he would sit out a game because of an injury or ailment. Maz always felt that Clemente at 70 percent could do more than Maz and most of the guys could do when they were 100 percent. You couldn’t keep Maz and Face out of a game no matter how they were feeling, but Clemente was different. Even when Bill was in a batting slump, he felt he could help the team win with his work in the field. He came from a different background. Clemente to me was like an artist. Artistic people have greater sensitivities. They're different, whether you're talking about Van Gogh or Gore Vidal. They see, feel and hear things differently. Clemente's sensitivity was toward his body. It was his cathedral. At age 38, he was still in great shape. If he hadn't died, there's no doubt in my mind that he could have made good on his desire to play another four or five years. Why couldn't he. 1n 1972, he was playing for the best team in baseball, and on that team he had the best arm, was the best base runner, and was probably still the best hitter."

"Roberto also tried to get Mazeroski to stay in baseball longer. Bill was having problems with his weight, and just thought he couldn’t continue to fight the battle anymore. It was in his genes. His mother was very overweight, and Bill battled his weight from start to finish. Clemente told him, "Cash is OK and Stennett is OK, but you’re still a better second baseman. You can come down to Puerto Rico with me and get in shape." Bill told him, "I think I can still play, but I can’t fight this weight thing anymore." Maz had his own pride. But he didn’t understand the pride thing with Clemente. Clemente was painting a picture every time he played. He didn't want to play unless he could perform at his absolute best."

"Even though 1960 was exciting, I never felt that Pirate team could have touched the old Dodgers talent-wise – not by one iota. But I will say that Roberto Clemente was the best right fielder I ever saw."

"Clemente was a Berra-type hitter. He could hit the pitch out of the strike zone and hit it with a lot of power. He had a unique batting stance and stride. He would step in the bucket once in a while but had great control."

". And as good a player as Sosa is, I would have to say that Clemente was better. He had everything you looked for in a player—ability to hit, run, throw, and he was a good base-stealer. He could get that extra base for you. He was the spark of the ballclub, and a very unselfish player."

"I think all these things are a myth about Roberto. It has to be that because he just isn't the kind of guy who would beg off anything unless he didn't feel well. He has played lots of times when he shouldn't have. He is definitely one of the leaders on this club. He's been around a long time and he knows what he's talking about. A lot of times he talks about the other hitters in our clubhouse meetings. He's thinking about something all the time. He really is one of the better ballplayers I've seen since I've been around. He has all the essentials, ability, hustle and desire. That's why it's a bit hard to understand some of these things which have been said."

"He was the best in so many aspects of the game. He could go from first to third as fast as any player I saw or played against, and that included some of the best – Lou Brock, Maury Wills and Willie Davis."

""I’ll bet you Harry Dalton would trade half his ballclub for Clemente,” Don Leppert, the Pirates’ first-base coach, said. “He’d probably split the clubhouse down the middle, and give us a choice of either side, to get that guy into an Oriole uniform.” Leppert’s only regret is that Clemente didn’t have the chance to truly excel in the field. Other than his eye-popping throw to the plate in the sixth game, Clemente was required to field no more than ordinary chances. "Brooks Robinson had that great Series with the glove in 1970,” Leppert said, “but you’ve got to be lucky to field like he did. By that, I mean you’ve got to get the tough chances, and if Roberto had had some in this Series, he really would have shown them something.”"

"I saw some great players, including Willie Mays. DiMaggio was a super talent. A guy I really liked was Clemente 'cause I managed him in Puerto Rico. He's one of the superstars of all time. I'll take Mays, Clemente, Williams, DiMaggio—they were so super. Those are the four guys I really felt were something special."

"Dale doesn't rate his own club as a contender. However, he feels that Pittsburgh will be greatly improved over its 1956 form. He likes the pitching. He raves about Roberto Clemente, the hard-hitting outfielder, and he has many favorable words to say of second baseman Bill Mazeroski. He feels that Clemente, the third leading batsman in the league last season at the tender age of 22, will become one of the great stars. He told a funny story about this serious-minded Puerto Rican youth. Clemente was at bat with the bases full, two out and the count three and one. Manager Bobby Bragan flashed the take sign. Clemente planted the next pitch out of the park for a grand-slam. Bragan appreciated the four runs, but all the same he wanted to know why Clemente hadn't obeyed the signal. He asked him. Clemente. speaking in fractured English, said. "Oh, I see take sign. So I take ball, and hit it just as far as I can.""

"People in Pittsburgh don’t really know what they have in Clemente. He’s the best all-around ballplayer I have ever seen."

"This boy can throw like hell, he can run like hell, and he's got real good power. He is an unusually well coordinated athlete for his age and lack of experience. He'll be with us all year and you may see a lot of him."

"Another wonderful prospect. Why, he's only 19; can you imagine what he'll be like a few years from now? But I don't know if we can hold him. scouted him and I'm pretty sure the Pirates intend to draft him."

"This boy can do everything. In a couple of years, I'll bet he'll be a star."

"Hide is not actually the right word. I had no orders from Buzzy Bavasi not to play him. Just to use him sparingly. There was no conspiracy to make him look bad. There's no way to make Clemente look bad. We had three veteran outfielders at Montreal – Sandy Amoros, Dick Whitman and Gino Cimoli – and Buzzy said use Clemente sparingly. He was my fourth outfielder and whenever I was forced to use him, he looked great. He was colorful ... and got better ... and better ... and better. We tried to sneak him through the draft, but it didn't work."

"He followed us around watching Clemente and we used to go out a lot together and eat after a game. It got to be funny. I'd say how bad Clemente looked. He'd say "I'll get in touch with you after the season. You've lost a ballplayer. We're a cinch to finish last and get first draft choice." Yes, I know Clemente thought we were really trying to make him look bad. I now kid him about it all the time. If he did good and I didn't play him the next night, he wouldn't speak to me. Like a petulant kid."

"I never had any orders not to play Clemente. I was told Roberto was only 18 when actually he was 19, but I had three proven Triple A outfielders in Sandy Amoros, Gino Cimoli and Dick Whitman. When the Dodgers took Amoros to Brooklyn, I had Jack Cassini and Don Thompson. I was told to win at Montreal and simply had to play more experienced men. Roberto got in 87 games and I think that's good for a rookie. To me Roberto was a 'fill in guy,' an enthusiastic rookie you would spot in a game without rushing him. Amoros and Whitman didn't have the strongest arms in the world and if we were leading late in a game, I would take one of them out and put Clemente in for defensive purposes. He always did the job. He was always unhappy when he did not play, happy when he did. It did not disturb me when he got mad at me for not playing him. I would have been upset if he did not get angry at me. I'd say this very fact of him having desire and determination has been a great asset to him all of these years. There was little doubt of his potential but his growing up came along later. He put things together to become a star. Nobody could be more delighted about his career than I. All along I have felt he has never been given the credit due him. He is certainly a more complete ball player than many fellows who are given more publicity."

"He was a wild-swinging kid, but he just radiated ability. He was a temperamental kid, and he could hardly speak any English, but luckily we had some players on the team who spoke Spanish."

"If you had been in Montreal that year, you wouldn’t believe how ridiculous some of the pitchers made him look. And he had the habit of always taking a strike, getting himself in the hole, when there were runners in scoring position. But he might look foolish at the plate one time, then come back and really tee off on the ball."

"I knew it was a mistake to sign a player this good to a triple-A contract. We couldn’t protect him, and some team was bound to grab him."

"Historically, the Montreal club always drew well. It was instrumental in paying for a lot of the parent club's tab. Buzzy never once told me to hide Clemente. Hell, there was no way you could hide him even if you wanted to. Don't play him at all, then everybody gets suspicious, anyway. The only orders I had from Bavasi were to win and draw big crowds."

"He didn't believe me, I guess, but we got along. He didn't harbor a grudge. The career he had with the Pirates, that made it easier for him to let it pass."

"He always kept a jar of honey in his locker. My son Blake, when having a chance to come into the clubhouse, always ran for Roberto, sitting on his knee – the two of them eating honey. Watching him hit – sometimes with both feet off the ground at contact – and having the best throwing arm in baseball are things I will remember. I also saw him hit a long home run over the scoreboard at Wrigley Field. I miss him. He was kind to all players; you didn’t have to be a star."

"He was a nice fellow. There were about eight Americans on the team and he invited us over to his house, which I thought was a very nice gesture – opening his house, making us feel comfortable, talking baseball… And he was very impressive. Not a huge guy, but well-proportioned and obviously very strong. He used a maximum-dimension bat – as big and heavy and long as the rules say a bat can be. Huge. The handle was almost as big as the barrel of the bat. It was around 54 inches in length [sic] and weighed I don’t know how many ounces. One day, he was talking to us about hitting and was handling this bat. The size and shape of it sort of intrigued me; I should have been listening to what he was saying. Might have helped me later. Anyway, he set it down. I went over to pick it up. I couldn’t get it off the floor. Here he was holding it and moving it around like it was nothing and I could barely lift it. That was very impressive to me."

"Everybody pitched him the same way. They pitched him away and shifted the defense the other way and made him hit into the defense – and he still hit .350."

"As a young player, I was in awe of Roberto Clemente’s ability to hit in a seemingly unorthodox manner. As a hitting coach, I am in awe of how fundamentally sound a hitter he actually was."

"I didn’t do it. This man next to me did it. Talk to him."

"I got to spend some time with [my family] following the close of the ’54 season. But baseball was my living, and where the chance was to make an additional living, there I went. And it took me to Puerto Rico, where Herman Franks was managing the Santurce team in the winter league there. It was fun, even though they take their baseball more seriously down there. We had a good club, and everybody wanted to win – and when you’ve got people like Gomez and Roberto Clemente on your side in the Puerto Rican league, you’ve got a chance to win, and we did win."

"It was just like a family. We were all extremely proud to play in that game, and winning it was extremely important. We had sort of an unwritten rule that guys like myself, Clemente and Aaron would play the full nine innings, or until we were either way ahead or way behind."

"It’s the little things he does that amaze me. I’ve seen him play in a new park and you’d think he had been playing there all his life. He plays the caroms off the wall like he knows exactly where the ball is going to bounce. He doesn’t have to throw out runners with his arm. They respect it and rarely run on him. Clemente makes opposing runners play safety-first baseball. Often, this helps the Pirates win a ball game. The box score never tells Clemente’s true value to the team."

"He's strong enough to be a home-run hitter, but he lacks what I call the killer instinct. A lot of hitters keep hammering away even if a game is out of reach. Clemente just isn't that kind of hitter. Many of the runs he drives in win games, but he doesn't often get, say, six RBIs in a game we win, 15-2."

"He is a thinking outfielder. Some guys go to a particular spot for a particular hitter and stay there. Clemente doesn’t. He adjusts to the situation each time a guy comes to the plate and then readjusts with the count. You'd be surprised how many outfielders don't."

"There was an iron gate in right center in Forbes Field, and I’ve seen him throw a ball from near that gate to the plate on a fly – a distance of 460 feet."

"When he was throwing to third, his throw was low enough to hit the cutoff and still get to third in the air. Coming home sometimes, he’d miss the cutoff man and try to get it all the way to the plate. Didn’t hurt him because he got it there quicker than most people. Roberto was one of the very few right fielders who could field the ball with the runner rounding first and throw behind that runner, without him taking second. He threw out quite a few guys that way."

"He is set in his ways. He likes to sleep a lot. He does not like noise. He is a hypochondriac. He loves his image. He believes people know you by the company you keep, so he is wary of being with people he does not like. He does not like Pittsburgh writers, because he thinks they don't like him. I agree with him. I think they don't like him either. Bob Clemente is my idol. The papers should readː "Bob Clemente and the Pittsburgh Pirates will be in town tonight..." That's how the story should begin. Clemente first."

"For a long time, he impressed me as an individual; now he is more of a team player. Maybe he was that way before and just couldn’t get it across to the other players. I thought he was playing for himself, but now he works with all of us, the young players, and he’s our intermediary with the front office. And that’s what a superstar’s supposed to do – spread himself around. Robbie has realized his importance, taken control, looked after us. Now he’s everybody’s player. He’s come into his own."

"Clemente was an absolute natural in everything he did in baseball. He picked up things on his own very quickly. He was a great self-teacher. He told me one time that when he threw homeward to nail runners trying to score, he never threw to the catcher. He threw to the unpire because the ump always positioned himself to see the slide at home. He felt it gave him an advantage because the ump could easily see the ball’s arrival in front of his face."

"Clemente played every winter game hard – to win. He played 150-plus big league games plus spring training. It had to be tough for him even though it was in front of his home fans. To see him come there and work so hard was very impressive."

"He no sleep nights. He get up, walk around. Often he spend night in bathtub with hot water for back. He have pain, I know."

"That was a Roberto Clemente play. He made a Roberto Clemente turn and throw. That throw could have ended up in a water cooler somewhere."

"When I was 15, he came to my hometown for a clinic. I remember everything, particularly the things he taught me about playing the outfield. It helped me my whole career. He showed me the way to throw the ball, and the way to catch it, and the best way to hit the cutoff man, and he taught me how to learn to anticipate where the ball would come. [... A few years later,] I was playing center field, right next to him in right field. It was a thrill. Everything he taught me helped me my whole career, and I try to teach the kids the same way."

"Clemente and I, we played together for about six years – from 1963 to 1968. In my opinion, Roberto Clemente was the best player I’ve ever seen playing this game."

"I played with Willie Mays and I played with Roberto Clemente, and what I see in Barry is the same ability I saw in Willie and Roberto. I see a guy who trusts himself at the plate and in the field. If I managed against Barry, I wouldn't let him beat me. I wouldn't give him the opportunity."

"I’d like to see Clemente’s hit on a clear day with no wind and see how far it really would go."

"Sure, Clemente runs through signs once in a while. But on our club, we encourage daring baserunning. It pays off. Sometimes Clemente doesn’t even see the coach’s signal. When he’s on base, he’s concentrating on only one thing – reaching home safely."

"Clemente’s quite a ballplayer, isn’t he? Now you know why he was picked on the All-Star team. He’s as good an outfielder in right field as your Willie Mays in center. There isn’t anything he can’t do."

"I'm surprised that you fellows didn't make a big fuss over the ball Clemente hit to the roof Saturday. I thought it hit the top and came down. That's probably the longest hit in that direction made by a right-handed hitter. Don't you think so?"

"I'm the lucky one. I have Clemente on my side. He can do it all. I have seen him do it all."

"At the moment, the two best hitters in this league—without question—are my guy (Roberto Clemente) and Willie Davis."

"If Clemente were a selfish player, he could hit 25 to 40 home runs a season. But he’s always been content to set up a lot of runs for the fourth and fifth place hitters. That’s why I always hit him third in the lineup. That has been my argument all along with the press. I’ve told the writers time and time again; nobody ever takes into consideration the amount of runs he sets up with singles and doubles. He takes great pride in hitting behind the runner and he does everything possible to help a ballclub. All the players look up to him. He helps a manager in so many ways, starting with spring training. When the young Latin players come into camp, he takes them under his wing and advises them as if he were their father."

"There was a language barrier at the start, ignorance on both sides. But time took care of that. He was such a truthful man it backfired on him sometimes. If you asked him if his shoulder hurt, he’d say "Yes, it does." Then he’d go out and throw a guy out at the plate. That’s how he got the hypochondriac label."

"Two catches Roberto made stand out in my mind. Each came at the risk of great personal injury and each had a vital part in the winning of a pennant although they were eleven years apart. We were in a scoreless tie with the New York [sic] Giants in Forbes Field late in the 1960 season when Willie Mays tagged one. Roberto turned his back on the ball and raced back, knowing he could not avoid crashing into an unpadded wall. He still made the catch, saved the game and wound up with a dozen stitches. Late in a tie game [actually the Pirates were ahead 1-0] with Houston during our pennant drive of 1971, Bob Watson hit one deep along the right field line. Two were out and the winning run was on its way home when Roberto tore across the field at full speed and made the catch as he crashed into the wall. He was knocked groggy, but still hit a game-winning home run in the next inning."

"Roberto really should not have played that second game. He was so tired from the previous night’s game and lack of sleep that he passed up batting practice. But he played all twenty-five innings within a twenty-hour period... Man, when I was playing, it would take me three or four weeks to get that many hits."

"Wrigley used to be Roberto Clemente's favorite hitting ball yard. I saw Clemente have many a big day here. He hit a lot of homers over those vines. You see that scoreboard? Well, he hit a ball one day slightly to the left of the top of it. I thought it was going to hit the board but it veered to the left. That blast had to be 500 feet or more. Maybe there have been longer homers. That one compared with the best of them"

"There’s one thing I can’t understand. I’ve read many articles about who is the most valuable player on the Pirates. But I never see Roberto’s name mentioned. I don’t know how he can be overlooked when you talk about players on the club. Actually, there is no one player that can be classed as the most valuable, in my opinion. There are about five fellows on the team we couldn’t get along without. I mean individually, there’s Dick Groat and Don Hoak and the Deacon and Elroy and Clemente. But he doesn’t get a call. He’s been consistently around .320 all season. He has hit more home runs than ever. He just might be the only player here to drive in over 100 runs. And certainly he is the best right fielder in the league. Sure, those others are valuable to the team, but no more valuable than Clemente. He’s won more games for us with his bat, with his arm, with his speed on the bases. What more can you ask a player to do to be recognized? If Roberto beefs about not being mentioned, I wouldn’t blame him. He’s done as much as any other player on this team to keep us in first place."

"Max Macon, the manager, told me one day on the bench late in the season, "That kid will be starting at Pittsburgh next season." I said, "What do you mean?" He told me about the draft rule for anybody signing a bonus of more than $4,000 and said the Pirates would have the first draft choice and would be sure to take Clemente. He said they'd been scouting him. You could tell he had talent. And he was such a nice kid."

"The outstanding boo-boo was our loss of Clemente whom we had signed to a bonus contract with our Montreal club. A combination error between our front office and the Commissioner's office resulted in a technicality by which we lost his services. With Clemente on the Dodgers, we would have won four more pennants than we did. I am hazy about Mays and Aaron."

"I'll tell you one way they are going to miss him. When he was not playing and sitting on the bench, the other team not only knew he was there, they saw Roberto waving to the right fielder to show him where to stand. Nobody knew better how to play the batters."

"During the Series, after arriving in Baltimore, Roberto practiced for hours studying how the ball caromed off the right field fence at different angles and locations. His determination was of such a magnitude that one could be excused for believing he’d gone crazy. Crazy like a fox is more like it, as the World Series would ultimately demonstrate; time after time, Roberto, having left nothing to chance, would appear in precisely the right spot to field each carom. For me, Roberto Clemente has to be the greatest right fielder of all time."

"When I first signed with the Pirates, I signed on as a catcher. I had a technique of throwing the ball, but it was a catcher’s throw, not an outfielder’s throw. Robby first made me aware of the difference. "You can get a lot more on that throw if you stretch your arm out." He showed me how to throw the ball from the outfield. Robby also showed me how to properly grip the ball before throwing it, and how you grab the ball out of your glove with that same grip each time. By gripping the ball a certain way with your fingers across the strings, you could keep it from slicing. It had to be a routine. When you’re getting this advice from a guy as great as Clemente, it sinks in immediately. To me, the guy was God."

"A lot of people praise Clemente now. What I saw as a young adult, though, was that he didn’t get what he deserved. The true praise for Clemente came after his death. To me, he was every bit as good as Mantle and Mays, but they got more recognition on a national basis. Clemente was every bit as good as either of them, or anyone else. To me, he stuck out like a sore thumb. You knew he was a great baseball player."

"Clemente and Ted Williams are the only two batters I ever saw who get good wood on the ball almost every time up. Every ball he hits seems shot out of a cannon."

"Amazing. The only other batter I ever saw who gets good wood on the ball as consistently as Clemente was Ted Williams."

"Clemente simply is a natural hitter. He’s hard to fool and ready at all times."

"Johnny Pesky calls Clemente the best hitter since Ted Williams. "And Williams would be proud to have anybody say that," the Pirate coach added."

"[On Clemente's wasted 3-HR-7-RBI performance of May 15, 1967] He hit one to right field and then to right-center. Then he homered over the left field fence. It was fantastic – absolutely sensational. [On the following day's 5-HRs-on-6-pitches batting practice clinic] It’s the first time I’ve seen that since Ted Williams’ days with the Red Sox."

"He has to be one of the greatest who ever lived, in a class with Williams, DiMaggio, Aaron and Mays."

"When I took the job, Joe Brown, who bossed the team, said to me, "I want you to keep Clemente happy if you can," and that was easy. I used to tell Roberto that he was as good as Ted Williams. And that was something from me. Williams was a god to me and I was putting Roberto in the same class with him. [...] I never in my life thought the man could play the way he did for the Pirates. I saw Roberto Clemente make plays that were just about impossible, and I was forever praising him and he loved every second of it."

"Roberto was not exceptionally big physically, but he had a solid body and was very, very strong."

"Great kid, wonderful player. Probably as good a player as ever played the game. He could run, hit, throw, hit home runs. I had Stargell out a couple of times for extra hitting, but Clemente didn’t need it. He was just so good. When you talk about Clemente, you’re talking about Mays. He was a hell of a player."

"He was the best right-handed hitter I ever saw. He could run, throw — he was a hell of a player."

"One day last spring, I was walking toward the clubhouse and I saw Clemente standing by himself at home plate with a bat in his hands. The workout was over and everyone else had left. Roberto would take four or five strides with his front foot, keeping his bat still. Then he’d swing it and run hard to first base. He did it again and I finally walked over and asked what he was doing."Well," he said, "I'm in good shape physically, but I’m pretending it’s opening day. We play the Mets and I know Seaver will pitch. I know how he pitches me and I’m pretending that’s what he’s doing. I’m getting myself ready mentally.”"

"Low and away from what I have seen. High and away—forget it—it'll be a shot over the wall!"

"I guess the best words I could use, when he first come up: great ability, played hard, but he was somewhat of a hot dog. Maybe he didn't run out a ball. He was known for that when he first come up. And, uhh... then, as he matured, he became the leader of the club, and [pause] the hot dog was gone. He just matured and became... became the guy that he was... that he was destined to be."

"Clemente was No. 1 on the lists of four or five major league teams. We've had several men scout him. Clyde Sukeforth did a thorough job on him. We know he can field, run and throw. He has power for sure. He didn't hit for average in Montreal, but we're hoping he'll do it for us."

"I had a good line on this boy. Three different members of the scouting staff observed his play. On the reports I would have paid more than the $4,000 it cost the club. I would have paid $10,000 or even gone high as $30,000 for him. But for $30,000, I would have gone out myself and checked on him."

"We can't go overboard on what we've heard. It might be hard on the boy if he gets a lot of rave notices. The people might expect too much of him. I've had so many good reports on this boy, I'm anxious to get a look at him myself."

"I have been told very often from sources about his running speed. His running form is bad, definitely bad, and based upon what I saw tonight, he has only a bit above average major league running speed. He has a beautiful throwing arm. He throws the ball down and it really goes places. However he runs with the ball every time he makes a throw and that’s bad. He has no adventure whatsoever on the bases, takes a comparatively small lead, and doesn’t have in mind, apparently, getting a break. I can imagine that he has never stolen a base in his life with his skill or cleverness. I can guess that if it was done, it was because he was pushed off. His form at the plate is perfect. The bat is out and in good position to give him power. There is not the slightest hitch or movement in his hands or arms and the big end of the bat is completely quiet when the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand. His sweep is level, very level. His stride is short and his stance is good to start with and he finishes good with his body. I know of no reason why he should not become a very fine hitter. I would not class him, however, as even a prospective home run hitter. I do not believe he can possibly do a major league club any good in 1955. It is just too bad that he could not have his first year in a Class B or C league and then this year he might have profited greatly with a second year as a regular say in Class A. In 1956 he can be sent out on option by Pittsburgh only by first obtaining waivers, and waivers likely cannot be secured. So we are stuck with him, stuck indeed, until such a time as he can really help a major league club."

"I saw Clemente several years ago in Puerto Rico and made up my mind at the time to get him somehow. When the Dodgers gave Clemente a bonus and left him on the Montreal roster, I jumped. I knew this was it. The only person I told about Clemente was Clyde Sukeforth and I sent him on a trip to check on Roberto.★ He came back raving. Clemente was good last year, but he’ll be better this year, and in about three years you’ll really see something."

"This boy may not possess the color of Jackie Robinson or Willie Mays, but he has enough natural ability to be spoken of along with any of those fellows. I suppose I have a peculiar attachment to Robert [sic]. That's because we got him for a "steal," you might say. I was with the Dodgers when we acquired Clemente after scouting him in Puerto Rico. So I was thoroughly acquainted with the boy when the major league draft came up in the winter of 1954, after I had come to Pittsburgh from Brooklyn. The Dodgers were apparently bent on "hiding" Robert when they transferred him to the Pacific Coast League.★ But since I knew what he could do, and that he was somewhere in their farm system, I withheld the Pirates' draft selection until I found the boy. We got him for the relatively small draft price—perhaps the biggest steal in baseball."

"Here he was, thirty-seven years old, and they said he had to have a great World Series or else people would not know how great he was. He was so ashamed. He’d tell me, "Oh, when I was younger, I was so much better.""

"In the finals against Mayaguez, I had a one-run lead with two outs in the ninth. Boog Powell was at the plate. I threw him a fastball. It was some 420 feet to dead center in Mayaguez and quite dark. The lights weren’t too bright in that part of the stadium. Powell got hold of it, but Clemente was playing in center. He turned around, slid into the fence. It must have been dead quiet for five minutes, when I realized he caught the ball with his back facing the infield. The game was over."

"While Radatz, Face and Schwall leaned to Howard for distance, all thought Jackson a power man of note. " and Roberto Clemente can hit 'em downtown with the best of them," Schwall interjected. Face nodded in agreement."

"I never saw a guy so dedicated to playing ball. He’d have a clubhouse meeting and it’d sorta be funny… he’d talk for an hour, and not get tired of talking! He was speaking in halting English, but he meant every word. And you’d see him hit a tap to the pitcher, and he’d run just as hard as he did on a hit. He always said it might be that one time that something would happen, that you’d put pressure on a guy and make him make a mistake. Maybe we aren’t blessed with his talent, but there’s no reason we can’t hustle like he did."

"There was a lot of pressure on Roberto to activate himself," Singleton recalls. "He was a hero down there, and he could still play better than anybody. But he refused to take somebody’s place in the lineup. He said he would go with the guys who got him that far. A team is a team, he said. I never forgot that." Neither did Singleton forget how those playoffs ended in 1970. Clemente came up in the ninth inning, bases loaded, his team trailing by a run, with two outs. The count went to 3 and 2. The crowd was screaming, and Clemente seized the moment. "Line-drive double," says Singleton, smiling. "Two runs, we win the game. He contributed to the cause, but he didn't forget everybody else who contributed."

"Today he said that he would wager "up to a dollar" that Roberto Clemente would hit 30 points higher this season. "He was moving his head around. It was up in the air most of the time when he swung. That’s why he was troubled so much by curves. Now after one bit of instruction, he is holding his head steady.""

"A thinking hitter, the kind I like. I don’t like ‘guess’ hitters."

"I think Clemente will hit 35 points higher this season."

"This is a young team and one of the advantages of working with youngsters is they’re eager to learn and they’re good students. They’re willing to accept advice. We don’t have too many power hitters on the Pirates and naturally it isn’t my aim to develop the singles hitters into home run hitters. I feel if they’ll just meet the ball solidly, they’ll fill the bill. I think the averages have declined in recent years because most players are looking for the home run every time at bat. But we’ll be satisfied with a good, consistent performance. Virdon and Clemente hit only 17 home runs between them but they ran two-three in the National League batting race."

"He could hit .400 someday. He hits the pitch where it's thrown. He's not trying to pull everything over the fence. He uses his intelligence along with his ability."

"Clemente always chose average over power. He could have hit a ton of home runs. Playing around in batting practice, he’d hit one ball after another over the fence. But in the games, he just wanted to make hard contact."

"I had been with other teams before I came to the Pirates. I had been with clubs in Kansas City and before that in Baltimore. But I had never been with a ballplayer like Clemente. I knew he was going to be great. I saw him make plays in ’60 and I saw someone like Al Kaline try to make plays like that, and he couldn’t. Clemente could throw the ball. There were few who could throw the ball like him. Rocky Colavito could and Kaline could, and Carl Furillo and Willie Mays could, but not many of them. He was such a great athlete. He could stop and go. He could’ve played football. He was just a natural, instinctive ballplayer. If someone said, ‘Hey, Roberto, let’s go pitch horseshoes,’ he’d probably win all the time. He had great speed – he was just such a natural athlete. I was in awe of his ability."

"After a month or two, he and I became good friends. He was my buddy. I could talk to him. I could kid him. I could counsel him. He liked that. One day we were changing clothes, getting into our uniforms at Forbes Field, and I moved close to him and tugged at the lapel of his uniform shirt. I said to him, "Roberto, are you aware that if you play every day this year, we’re gonna win the pennant?" He said, "Smitty, are you kidding?" And I said, "I’m serious. You’re that great. You’re great!" He smiled at me, and he said, "Smitty, I’ll play every day." And he did, or just about, anyhow. I had talked to Murtaugh about him before I said that. I said, "What’s the deal with Clemente?" I heard he had aches and pains and he pulled himself from the lineup now and then. Murtaugh told me, "He did that to me last year. This year I just put his name down on the lineup card, and I hide from him the rest of the time before the game starts. I don’t talk to him the rest of the day. I don’t give him a chance to tell me about his aches and pains." Clemente was young. He was different from the rest of us. Maybe he wasn’t always comfortable in the clubhouse or the dugout, in the beginning. But he needed a pat on the back, that’s all. When he found out the team needed him, he really responded. He learned a lot that year, probably more than in any other year in his major league career. He learned a lot about himself, and about his teammates."

"The best and most complete ballplayer I’ve ever seen is Roberto Clemente. He responds in any situation and the guy will come up with a base hit in any situation, or a catch, or a throw, or whatever you need."

"I especially respected and admired Clemente, who later became one of my best friends. Roberto was superhuman on the ball field. He played right field with the grace and style of a ballet dancer. His agility and strength enabled him to perform plays some fans thought to be impossible. But he was also an intensely fierce warrior who played each game as if it were his last."

"He was a winner. He taught me many things about succeeding in baseball and in life. As a result, we were able to put many things together. Even after his death, the spirit of Roberto remained in Pittsburgh and, with him in mind, many persons accomplished things that perhaps seemed impossible years ago. He exemplified what a World Series is all about… the glamour and the physical and mental endurance needed to perform. Anybody who has a World Series ring knows what I’m talking about."

"It was something that he worked on. First of all, he would make sure he had good balance in throwing. Everything was across the seams. And he knew how to throw the ball so it could land in a certain spot and take one perfect hop to the infielder or the catcher so that it doesn’t handcuff him. He would take a garbage can and put it at third base where the opening was facing him. He would have somebody hit him the ball in right field, he would run in, bring his body under control, pick up the ball, and throw it one-hop into the can. Tough to do. But that’s what made him shine a little brighter, stand a little taller."

"He worked at it. One of the things that he taught me was every time we’d go into a stadium – or even at home – to spend a little extra time working on things: have balls hit to you, not just fly balls or ground balls, but hit ‘em off the wall at different angles. Find the sun, hit the ball into the sun and be able to shield the sun in such a way that you don’t lose the ball in the sun. His ability was no accident. He put a lot of time and effort and intelligence into his game. And what people saw was the finished product."

"We were taking extra hitting. I was throwing to him and he was throwing to me. So the time I was throwing to him, he said, "Look, this round, I’m gonna hit everything back up the middle, so be alive." Maybe three out of ten pitches a guy could do that, hit the ball right back at the pitcher. The first pitch I threw, as soon as I threw it, a bullet went right by my ear. Phew. I said, "Whoa!" The next one – phew, by this ear. The next one was coming directly toward me, and I had to duck. That’s three out of three. Then I got the message – I’m gonna be alive ten out of ten."

"Sure, I know Mantle led the American League in homers, but we got a couple of guys besides myself who can hit home runs, too. Clemente can hit a ball as far as anyone. He leans toward left field and hits to right."

"There must be the best 169-pound slugger in baseball."

"Don’t let anybody kid you he can’t hit for distance. When he wants to, he can power one as far as anybody in baseball. He's smart enough to go for line drives at Forbes Field. That's no park for home run hitters."

"Clyde Sukeforth, another Pirate scout of the era, remembers having dinner with Max Macon, then manager of Montreal. "I don't care if you never play him," said Sukey, with corner-curl grin of his, "we're going to finish last, and we're going to draft him number one.""

"Sukeforth went to Pittsburgh and consulted with Branch Rickey, who had moved from the Dodgers to the Pirate organization and was engaged in a "five-year plan" to recruit young players for the perennial losers. A few days later, Sukeforth went to Montreal to see more of Roberto. That night, while having dinner with Max Macon, the manager, he said with a mischievous grin, "I notice you haven't been playing Clemente much lately." Before Macon could reply, Sukeforth said, "You might as well use him. He's better than anyone we have in Pittsburgh right now. We're going to finish last, and we're going to draft him number one." Then rising from the table, Sukeforth waved and said, "Take care of our boy.""

"Late in the season, Clyde Sukeforth went up to Montreal for one last look. "I notice you haven't been playing Clemente much." Sukeforth smiled across the dinner table at Macon. The two men had known each other for years. There was no sense in their trying to fool each other. "Well, I don't care if you never play him," continued the Pirate scout. "We're going to finish last, and we're going to draft him number one." With that, Sukeforth got up from the table. "Take care of our boy," he said."

"Clyde Sukeforth actually was the first man connected with the Pirates who saw Roberto Clemente when the Puerto Rican was playing for Montreal last summer. Sukeforth, a Bucco coach, was sent to Richmond, Va., last June to get a look at pitcher Joe Black of Montreal. The Pirates and Dodgers were talking about a Sid Gordon trade at the time and the Bucs asked for Black in the deal but wanted a first hand report on how he looked. But Sukey practically forgot all about Black when he caught his first glimpse of Clemente. "I arrived at the Richmond ball park where Montreal was playing just in time to see the pre-game workout," Sukey relates. "I saw Clemente throwing from the outfield and I couldn't take my eyes off him. Later in the game he was used as a pinch-hitter and I liked his swing. He impressed me a great deal. I started asking questions and learned he was a bonus player and would be eligible for the draft. I knew then he'd be our first draft choice. In fact, I told Montreal manager Max Macon to take good care of 'our boy' and see that he didn't get hurt. Clemente was such a good looking prospect and so young that if we hadn't grabbed him, he would have been snapped up quickly by the other teams. There weren't many other good draft choices and Clemente was a standout.""

"A duster thrown to leadoff batter Roberto Clemente by Sal Maglie in the September 21 game was credited with playing a major role in the Pirates' 2 to 1 win over the Dodgers. "You should have heard our players on the bench," said Bucco coach Clyde Sukeforth, formerly of the Dodger staff. "They were madder than at anytime I've seen 'em this season. It was a stupid thing to do. It got the guys fighting mad. It would have been better to let sleeping dogs lie.""

"Around the seventh inning Montreal was behind, and who should go up to pinch hit but this kid? He hits a routine ground ball to shortstop and turns it into a bang-bang play at first base. God, he could run. He could fly. Well, I said to myself, there’s a boy who can do two things as well as any man who ever lived. Nobody could throw any better than that, and nobody could run any better than that."

"“Well, boys," Mr. Rickey said, "We’re finishing last, so we’ve got the first draft choice. Who is it going to be?" Somebody suggested a pitcher out on the coast. Somebody else said an infielder out of the Southern League. Then he looked at me. “Clyde, do you have a candidate?" “Yes, sir," I said as emphatically as I could. "Clemente, with Montreal." “Any of you other boys see Clemente?" he asked, looking around. One fellow spoke up. “I have," he said. "I didn’t like him." “What didn’t you like about him?" Mr. Rickey said. “I didn’t like his arm," the fellow said. “Clyde,’ the old man said, "did you see this fellow Clemente throw?" “I sure did," I said. “What did you think of his arm?" “Well," I said, "there’s a question in my mind as to whether or not it’s better than Furillo’s." "It’s right in the same class as Furillo’s, and it may even be a little bit better." “I see," Mr. Rickey said. "There seems to be some difference of opinion here. One man doesn’t like the arm, while another says it’s as good as the best. We’ll have to sort this out." So he sent George Sisler and another scout up to Montreal to see Clemente. I guess they decided he could throw as well as do a few other things, because they recommended we draft him. That’s how the Pirates got Clemente for $4,000."

"The worse he felt physically, the better he seemed to play. He gave it 100% every day, every play. No one played the crazy right field in Pittsburgh better. I think my favorite quote from him came when Bobby Bragan asked him why he didn’t find one batting stance and stick with it. Bob replied, "Bobby, it don’t matter how you stand, it matter where you end up!”"

"Clemente would just plop down on the grass and hold court. He loved to talk about hitting. He’d be sitting there, talking to all these young kids. It wasn’t about mechanics, you know – like how to hold the bat, or where to stand, or stuff like that. It was more about theory, what he was trying to do as a hitter. It helps explain his unorthodox style. You’d never teach anyone to stand up at the plate like he did, or to hold the bat like he did, or to swing at some of the pitches he lashed at. He wanted to hit the ball with the bat going down through it. The ball would come off the bat with backspin. It will carry that way. I realized it more when I played golf because the same thing applies there. If you hit up at it you get topspin and the ball goes down. Most guys just want to make contact; they’re happy if they can put their bat on the ball. But Clemente was more precise in what he wanted to accomplish. He wanted to keep his hands back, and hit down on the ball with that heavy bat he used. Hearing him talk, you knew he was somebody on a separate level. They say Ted Williams was like that. He’d sit there four or five innings a day, just talking about things. Like balance, things he was trying to accomplish at the plate. I probably learned more about pitching to good major league batters from Clemente than I did from any pitching coaches."

"That '79 team was Stargell's team. he was 'Pops' and we were the 'Fam-i-lee,' and all that stuff. But all the things that Stargell showed us he learned from Clemente. Whenever I'd question Stargell about something, he'd smile and say, "That is Roberto. You're getting it secondhand from Roberto." That's what he told me. He was like Clemente in many ways. He didn't say much. "just watch me," that's what he was saying. I sat on the other side of the clubhouse from Stargell. Looking at him after a game, you couldn't tell if he was 4-for-4, 0-for-4, whether he struck out four times or whether he had 7 RBIs. There was a consistency about his behavior. Not too high, not too low. We all drew from his personality. And he'd say, "That's the way I got it from Roberto." What I really got from Roberto, and from Stargell, is how analytical you have to be. What are you trying to do? That's what you have to ask yourself, whatever sport you are playing. Whatever job you are doing."

"Just watching him play [when he first came up in 1955], his actions, right then and there you knew he was a pretty good little player. I said the same thing about Hank Aaron when I first saw him … I just felt that the way Clemente and Aaron swung the bat, so quick, and the way they handled themselves, that they had it. They had God-given ability. They just had to work to bring it out. I played with both of them. I liked Roberto, but people ask me, "Which one would you take if you had to make a choice?" and I’d take Henry. He could hit the ball harder, with more power, and he hit a lot more home runs. I’d love to have both of them on my team."

"I used to get mad at Clemente in his early years with the team. He was a great ballplayer, and he had a great arm, but he did things that hurt the ball club. He’d throw the ball over the head of the cut-off man to home plate. If he didn’t get the guy, the hitter would get to second base instead of having to stop at first. That could lead to more runs. I was playing first base at times, and I’d holler to him, "Throw the ball down!""

"He played the wall as well as anyone I’d ever seen. I saw Paul Waner play the wall well, too, when I was a little kid, but Clemente knew every nuance of that wall."

"He played his best baseball when we played the Giants. He tried to outdo Willie Mays, and he did many times. He worked at being a great outfielder, just like Virdon worked at it to become the great center fielder he became."

"There were many guys on the Pirates who had leadership qualities: Roberto Clemente, Dick Groat, Don Hoak, Vernon Law, even Smoky Burgess. Clemente led with his play. There wasn’t a better player than Roberto Clemente. Clemente, Mantle and Kaline were the best all-around players I ever saw, and I think Clemente was the best."

"There’s no doubt that Roberto’s the greatest right fielder in baseball. It’s phenomenal the way he plays the tricky wall in Forbes Field. He takes ordinary doubles off it and throws the runners out at second. He’ll snap throw to first and pick them off when they round the bag wide. He has real strong hands and the best arm in the business."

"Baseball won’t be the same in Pittsburgh without Clemente. When you think of baseball in Pittsburgh, you think of Clemente. There’s no way to replace him. We will just fill the spot. I’ll see Roberto every time I see a great play. That’s where we’ll miss him most – on defense. We’ll have to do the routine flawlessly because we won’t get the spectacular as often."

"Everything has been harder this year. Tempers have gotten away. We haven’t been able to hit the tough pitchers like [Wayne] Twitchell and Seaver. That is where we miss Clemente more than anything, because he could hit the good pitchers. He hit them better than anybody else. [Al] Oliver can hit them maybe in the seventh inning, but Clemente would hit them right off. His steady bat set the tone for our other hitters."

"There was never anybody better at his position than Clemente. In my time playing, managing, watching, he was simply the best in the business, not only because he could catch a ball better than anyone – which he could – or because his arm was so strong, but in every phase of play. He did everything exceptionally well and then his judgment was even better than that. He always threw to the right base, he was always where he was supposed to be, backing up, taking balls off the most difficult fences. His arm was powerful, but it was also deadly accurate. Nobody ran on him and when they did, it was from ignorance, not knowledge. Usually the ones who tried him were the young guys or the guys who were just coming into the league – the rest of the league simply didn’t run on him. He knew the outfields he played in, he knew the hitters and pitchers, what was going on in a game perfectly. He came in on a ball, went back to the wall, always knowing what he was doing."

"In a game at Forbes Field, he caught the ball over his shoulder and ran into the concrete wall in right field where the fence angled out. There were some ornaments on the fence that jutted out, and he was going headfirst into it. Somehow he threw his head back and he got cut under the chin instead of getting hit in the throat. It probably saved his life. He caught the ball and hung onto it. When I got there and turned him over, all I could see was the gash under his chin. But other than that, he didn’t hurt himself."

"I played in the outfield with Roberto Clemente all ten years I played with Pittsburgh. Usually a center fielder will call off the other fielder on a catchable ball, but with Clemente on your side, you don’t get carried away with that. And you’d know Roberto would be there if you were not able to get it."

"Bob Bailey, Willie Stargell, Donn Clendenon, Jim Pagliaroni and Bob Veale are practically strangers to Walker. He has never seen them play. But in the last few months Walker has studied their records and asked questions of the men who have seen them in action. "If we can get just a little more out of each Pirate, we're bound to be better," Walker reasons. "This isn't too much to ask. Maybe Roberto Clemente can drive in 100 runs, maybe Bailey can bat in about 80 runs, maybe Stargell can hit a few more homers. Just a little more from each player, a little more than he did in 1964 could start us on the road back.""

"I've been studying the records of all the Pirates and I feel if we can just get a little more production out of every man, we can have a good team this season. I don't think that's asking too much. I'd like to have Roberto Clemente drive in 100 runs, Willie Stargell give us a few more homers than the 21 he had last season and maybe Bailey can push a few more runners home."

"It all depends on Roberto's health. He's the leader of this team, and we'll go as far as he can take us."

"I dont care how bad he looks at the plate, or how many bad balls he swings at; as long as he keeps hitting like he has, I'm not changing his style."

"Well, of course one thing a lot of people are confused about, he steps a little bit toward left field with his front foot. But his weight is on the back foot when he starts. And then when he drives forward, he drives his weight off the back foot onto the front foot. And his back hip always goes with his hands. In other words, when his hands start here, his hips go up there with it. This is why he drives the ball, and stays on top of the ball. If he were to dip, like this, he would hit a lot of fly balls. But when he comes forward, he gets up on top by bringing the back foot. See that back foot, how he brings? And it makes a short stride. He finishes up with a stride about like this, rather than a big long stride. And this is important, because that keeps him on top of the ball, and that's why he hits a lot of line drives. He watches the ball, and he's got great hands. One thing: he'll be fooled on a ball, and he'll be like this, but his bat is always back. That way he can pull the bat at the ball. This is one of the things that makes him a great hitter."

"There’s just no way to pitch to him. He can hit everything. I don’t know why he’s hitting more homers this year, though. He’s just going into the ball and meeting it."

"One of his biggest boosters for the MVP is his manager, Harry Walker. "I don't know of any other player who deserves it more," he said of Clemente. "Willie Mays is having a good year but not as good as Clemente's. I can't see anybody else who can win it but Roberto." At Ft. Myers early last March, Walker told Clemente he looked for him to have the biggest campaign of his career. "He's doin' just that," the Bucs' leader crowed. "Maybe Roberto is not going to hit for the highest average he ever got, but he's topped his best RBI and home run figures. I told him he would do just that.""

"He ran every step of the way this year. That's rather unusual for a star of his caliber. He ran as hard for us in our last game of the season as he did in our first. The way he performed this year, Clemente was one of the greatest players I have ever seen. It seemed to be a matter of pride with him. I really don't know what motivated it. All I know is he had it."

"What makes Bobby Clemente the best hitter in baseball is that he waits longer than most of them before committing himself to the pitch. That gives him a better opportunity of correcting himself to meeting a changing pitch. A lot of fellows are already lunging when the ball is halfway to the plate. Clemente gets that extra look at the ball."

"We were just a fraction short in those years. If we had a little better pitching, we could have won it. What I really regret is not being able to stick around another couple of years. With Sangy, Richie Hebner and Oliver coming up, we had the players to fill in around Clemente and Stargell. That's why I felt bad."

"Walker regards Clemente as "the most exciting player" he managed and Clemente and Stan Musial as the best."

"We got along great. He was a great player and a great man. When I first went to Pittsburgh, I had heard that he said he wouldn't play for me, but I sat down and asked him about it. I told him I knew he was a great ball player, and I wanted him to play his way. After that, we got along great. After they fired me, he didn't play for two or three days."

"He was great in the clubhouse, too. He would start telling a story, get excited about it, and there'd be so much noise coming from the clubhouse that you'd think somebody was fighting. You'd go in there and the noise would be caused by people laughing at his stories. One that he told was about his days in the army. He was on the army's relay team, and he had a tough sergeant who took the team to a track meet. He told them they'd better win the race or they'd pay. Roberto was running the anchor leg. When he took the baton, he was a few steps behind the other runner. In telling the story, he said,"I ran as hard as I could, my sides seemed to be almost splitting, until I was up right beside the other guy. I knew I couldn't go much longer, so I turned to him and said, 'What say we make it a sprint for the last 50 yards?' The other guy was in the same predicament that I was, but he just gave up after that, and we won." He'd bluffed him out of the race."

"We had some very good young ballplayers – Maz, Groat, Clemente, Dale Long – though Clemente was a big piece of nothing his first years. Virdon and I would get all over Clemente. If a tough right-hander was going to face us, Clemente all of a sudden would get a headache or a bad back. I challenged him one day – I said, “You don’t want to play tonight because Drysdale’s pitching and he might knock you on your ass.""

"He'll do all right. Roberto can do all right doing anything. But he will never be as good as he is on the ball field. With a bat or glove in his hand, Roberto is super. He is a super-star. He is a superstar. To win a pennant a club needs a superstar. We had Koufax in Los Angeles. The Giants have their Mays and the Orioles didn't win until they got a superstar—Frank Robinson. The Yankees won for years with Mickey leading 'em. Clemente is our superstar. He makes the club that little bit better which is so important in a pennant race."

"I had played against Clemente for years and I always realized he was an outstanding player. But after playing 162 games a season with him for two years at Pittsburgh, I realized I hadn’t rated him high enough. As a fielder he is as great as anyone in baseball. When it comes to hitting, I think Clemente is the only batter in our league who is a real match for Bob Gibson. He has outstanding power to all fields. I know Tommy Helms has said that the hardest ball ever hit at him was a ball hit by Clemente, a righthanded hitter hitting to the right side."

"I’ve been asked if I ever saw anyone better than Willie Mays. The answer is, yes. Roberto Clemente was much better than Willie Mays. It wasn’t just his arm. He could do everything better."

"One of my favorite memories of Roberto is that year when Santurce, with Clemente and Mays, went to Caracas, Venezuela, to play in the Caribbean Series – representing Puerto Rico against Cuba, Panama, and the host country. There were many major leaguers on the rosters. In the deciding game, Clemente was on first in the final inning and Mays hits one to right, where the outfielder bobbled the ball for just a second. Clemente took off like a shot the moment that Mays connected and flew around third, although the coach tried to stop him. Gus Triandos was the catcher for the other team. The ball arrived at the same time as Clemente slid, spikes in the air, and we won the game. That exhibition of Clemente’s great speed and spirit was one of the most emotional moments in my life. He made many fine plays in the United States, but to win a game for Puerto Rico for our club in the Caribbean Series was a great moment. In fact, not long ago in Pittsburgh someone asked Clemente if he had ever played on a team with the slugging power of the 1971 Pirates. He said yes – the Santurce Crabbers, when they won the Caribbean Series!"

"He used to do things there that I thought no outfielder could possibly do. I am, you see, no baby. I know this game and I know the people who play it and I have seen them all ... all of them. But I tell you as I look there where once he wore our Santurce uniform, I tell you that when they hit that line drive ... you know that Roberto would of course have to be playing over toward center for a right-handed batter. And when the right-handed hitter put the ball toward the foul line, then Roberto would have to turn his back and sprint in the wrong direction. This is, you see, a most difficult play, but all the good ones make it, so you cannot build a memory upon the fact that he could turn and run and catch the ball. But what followed, ah, my friend, what followed. Ah, what followed was that as soon as you heard the sound of that baseball sticking in the pocket of the glove, you knew that Roberto would make this incredible pivot and sometimes without even looking he would throw the ball and heaven help the man on third base who thought he could then tag up and run home after such a play. Heaven help him, my friend, because his legs couldn’t. Roberto would throw him out by three feet. I am no child. I get older. I have seen them all. Yes, DiMaggio could make this play and maybe one or two others. That’s all. Upon a sight like this one can build a memory that almost measures up to the greatness that was Clemente."

"Aaron whistled when he talked of the two shots Roberto Clemente drilled. One struck the left field wall and bounced back on the field for a double. The other traveled over Mack Jones’ head in dead center (450 feet?) and he got a triple."

"Tired of hearing that Pittsburgh's Roberto Clemente was baseball's best, Aaron went on the rampage against the Pirates Sunday and fired the Braves to a 7-2 victory with a pair of two-run homers and two singles in a perfect day at the plate. "When you're second best, you have to try harder," Aaron quipped after his hitting outburst. [...] "I'm not mad. People can say whatever they want about who is the best player." [...] Aaron had been needled by Walker's public praise of Clemente, who the Pirate manager said was a better player than Aaron. The Atlanta right fielder hit the roof when Atlanta announcer Milo Hamilton introduced Clemente at a luncheon as the man who beat out Aaron for the right field job in the All-Star game. "I got more votes than Clemente," Aaron said. "I played center field because Walter Alston asked me to." Aaron and Hamilton ironed out their differences at a clubhouse meeting, but the 33-year-old slugger was determined to prove his point. He was particularly elated about throwing out Clemente when the Pittsburgh standout tried to take third on a long hit to right field. "Sure, that made me feel good. But I feel good when I throw anyone out." Aaron just laughed when a teammate said that, from now on, he's going to say before every game, "Clemente's better than Aaron.""

"Clemente has the misfortune of playing in a big park. If he played in a smaller one, there’s no telling how many home runs he’d hit."

"We talked about pitchers a lot. He’d want to know what I did against a certain pitcher. He had his own ideas, of course, and liked to use reverse psychology. He would take about five bats to the on-deck circle and sometimes changed bats. He would make the pitcher think he was going to use a heavier bat to punch the ball to the opposite field or something. Then he’d take a big cut."

"He had a batting stance that was a little peculiar. He had a little crouch in his stance, and when he swung at the ball, his rear popped out and he looked like he was almost jumping at the ball. He always got a lot of the fat part of the bat on the ball, though, and he hit more and more long balls at the end of his career."

"There was a cat who could gig. He played the right field wall in Forbes Field like Oscar Peterson working the piano. As a kid, I made a study of Roberto. I noticed [that] when a hitter took a wide turn around first base, he would sometimes gun the ball back to first behind the runner instead of throwing it into second. He used to catch a lot of guys that way. Now it’s years later and I’m up against the Pirates. I hit the ball to right field – Clemente Country. I round the bag real wide, but instead of stopping, I stutter-step and keep on running. When Clemente throws the ball to first to try to catch me, I’m already on second base, standing up."

"You take liberties with other guys you never take with him. He’s already thrown out five or six of our guys at home plate."

"He’s the only wild swinger who hits .300 every year."

"Johnny Roseboro looks like a .320 hitter up there at the plate and Roberto Clemente looks like a .230 hitter. How come Clemente outhits Roseboro by a hundred points?"

"He’s really something. He hits some other people pretty good too. He used to be able to hit Sandy."

"The big thing about Clemente is there is no one pitch that he can not hit. He may strike out on a ball low and away and the next time at bat hit the same pitch out of the park."

"I know Stargell is currently hitting almost twice as much as Clemente, but over the years Clemente has been twice as good a hitter as Stargell, especially against southpaws. O’Brien had handled Stargell the first time he faced him and you just can’t ask a youngster to pitch carefully to Clemente. He can hit it no matter where it’s pitched."

"Clemente can do everything on a ball field that any man can do. He has one big thing going for him. He can do most things better than anybody else"

"A 37-year-old with a body like that. It's not fair to other people. For one day he may be the best player in baseball."

"Walking away… Roberto Clemente is my premier outfielder – period. I saw more of Clemente than I wanted to when I managed against him. He could hit for power when he had to. When he wanted to slap it to right, he shot the ball like a bullet. Plus, he could fly. When he hit a ground ball to the infield, he was flying to first. That fielder better not be napping. Clemente was a remarkable man because at the ages of thirty-four and thirty-five, he played like he was twenty-one. I never saw anything like it. I remember once when the Pirates came to Cincinnati for a five-game series in four days. Clemente didn’t play in any of the games. Believe me, it didn’t bother me to have him out of there. But I was curious, so I queried Danny Murtaugh, the Pirates’ manager. “He’s been very tired," said Murtaugh. "He’s been resting. But watch what happens next week and the rest of the season." I checked the box scores every day. There was Clemente – three hits, two hits, three hits, four hits, two hits, day after day. Clemente came back and led the Pirates to the pennant. The man got tired just like everyone else. But once he was rested, he was like a kid again. That’s how I’ll always remember him – as a man who played with youthful energy."

"Bobby could do more things than any player I've ever seen. I used to coach third base for Preston Gomez in San Diego. Once he told me, "Now, I want you to know about Clemente cause he’ll play a game with you. If we have a man on first and there’s a base hit to right field, he’ll pretend to be loafing in on it. The moment you start to wave for that runner to come to third – look out, there’s gonna be an explosion." Well, sure enough, I don’t know what inning it was, but the situation came up, he put me in his trap and I did it. And let me tell you, my runner was about two-thirds of the way to third when the ball arrived. I came into the dugout and Preston was laughing. He said, ‘What did I tell you?’ But that was Roberto. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do."

"The best player I personally ever saw — and I never saw Mays in his prime, so I can't argue that — but the best I have ever seen to this day is Roberto Clemente. Bobby was unreal. He was better the last couple years before he got killed than he was in his younger days. He had the body of a kid in his mid-20s. People didn't realize how fast he was. He only stole bases if it meant something. In the outfield, nobody could play that position like him."

"He's a great outfielder. I'd put him close to Clemente, and I never saw one better than Clemente."

"I'd put him in the top five I've ever seen. Mays, Aaron, Clemente. That's pretty good company. He was a disciplined hitter, not just a wild swinger. He could hit a lot of pitches. I remember one time at Forbes Field, a pitcher dusted him with an inside fastball. Clemente got up and hit the next pitch over the wall. That's 440 feet at Forbes Field."

"Some of you fans may remember the ball he knocked out of Wrigley a few seasons ago, just to the left field side of the scoreboard. That’s the longest one I’ve seen hit there and we all agreed it must have traveled more than 500 feet on its trip into Waveland Avenue."

"To say the least, Sergio’s got an unorthodox setup – swing too, maybe, and so did Clemente. A pitcher could throw a ball over his head and he’d hit a line drive to right field. Man, could he hit! Sergio can really knock it out there, with power. He’s flashy, charismatic. Clemente was like that. He’d make an underhanded catch or run out from beneath his cap. Sergio’s got the looks, Clemente had the looks. Natural stuff, you can’t just invent – that’s these guys."

"I saw Roberto when I was trying to get into the big leagues. I was impressed that he gave 100 percent in winter ball, just as he did in Pittsburgh. Some people used to say he was a crybaby – that he wouldn’t play if he had an injury. But I saw him play hurt and he was better then than most players when they’re healthy. He was all business on the playing field. I was pretty quick then. I was on second base and tried to score on a hit up the right center alley. Roberto scooped up the ball and got it to the plate so fast I didn’t have a chance."

"Clemente was an awesome talent. He was a right-handed batter, but he would hit the ball to me at second as hard as any power-hitting left-hander. He used a very heavy bat and had an inside-out swing. He was very difficult to defense. He would hit shots at you, and the balls would come out of his uniform. The second baseman and the first baseman really had to be on their toes when he was hitting."

"Clemente was like me. He liked balls up and away. Sanguillen swung sort of like me."

"Mota's drive jarred me and so did Clemente, hitting my high change. Nobody ever hit my change-up farther than Clemente did."

"You’d have to go with each club. Everybody has a couple of fellows who can really hurt a pitcher. If I had to name one guy on each club, I’d say Williams on the Cubs, Rose or Vada Pinson on the Reds; with the Dodgers last year it was Gilliam, with Pittsburgh it’s Clemente."

"I used to kick myself whenever a guy got a single that fell just in front of me and Willie would say, “That’s all right, you held the guy to a single.” It stared making a lot of sense. It took a while to learn but I’ve finally got it. Take a team like Pittsburgh. Willie Stargell is the guy who hits all the homers, but I’ll play Roberto Clemente deeper than I’ll play Stargell. If Stargell hits it out, it doesn’t matter where you play. All you can do is lean on the fence and watch it go out. But Clemente hits a lot of line drives, so I play back and hope to keep him to a single, not a double or triple."

"I talked with Clemente a lot last season. I asked him his philosophy on hitting and playing. I learned some things. Roberto told me if you can’t give your best every time you hit a ball, why play? Then I asked myself, "When did Roberto ever loaf?" The last time I saw Clemente, he said he’d talk with me more this year. Now he’s gone. But Roberto opened my eyes – a player should always give 100 percent or not play."

"He is one of the worst-looking great hitters I’ve seen. Everything is a line drive. There isn’t one phase of baseball in which he doesn’t excel."

"If we changed places and Ken played in New York, he'd be in the Hall of Fame today. It's like Roberto Clemente. He was by far the greatest defensive right fielder who ever lived, but because he played in Pittsburgh, he didn't get the credit he deserved. I played with Roger Maris and against Al Kaline, and they were both great right fielders. But they weren't in Clemente's class."

"You can't defense him. He can hit down any line, hit up the middle and he can hit the long ball. In some ways, he's a better ball player than Aaron."

"The best player in the game today. I’d have to take him over Aaron and all the rest... I've only been in the league a little over a year and a half, but I don't think I've ever seen him make an easy out."

"Clemente is the best player I’ve ever seen. I said so when I first came into the league and I still say so."

"I'm looking at the best hitter in baseball."

"Willie Mays was the greatest player I ever saw. Clemente was second and Hank Aaron was the greatest slugger. But pound for pound, play-for-play, Willie Mays could do it all well. You can name four or five in what I call that elite category,” he said, adding the name of Mickey Mantle to his list of greats. “But after that, you catch hell putting anybody up there."

"I do not remember too many of the players. I seem to be more conscious of the players from when I played in Cuba. I had Orlando Cepeda launch a few on me when I was with Ponce. Oh, there was Roberto Clemente. I played against him, and he was awesome. The way he ran. The dirt flying up from his spikes. And he could hit the ball all over the place. He was terrific."

"Roberto Clemente, bats right. High fast-ball hitter, fair on breaking stuff. Power on inside strikes, hits straightaway. Often takes first pitch. Pushes bunt occasionally. Dislikes knockdown by close pitch. Runs well, takes risk on bases. Excellent defensive rightfielder. Frequently bluffs fumble of ground balls to dare opposing runners to try for extra base. (Jam him good. Keep change and slider away, preferably down.) Clemente features a Latin-American variety of showboating. ""Look at numero uno," he seems to be saying. Once afflicted with periodic back pains, he apparently was cured during a hitch with the Marines at Parris Island. His hard-headed reputation stems from a fabled episode that took place at second base several years ago. Cincinnati's Johnny Temple, upset by Clemente on a double play two innings previously, pivoted over the bag after a force play on Clemente and threw toward first base from down under. The ball caught Roberto smartly between the eyes. He didn't even blink. He once ran right over his manager, who was coaching third base, to complete an inside-the-park home run hit off my best hanging slider. It excited the fans, startled the manager, shocked me and disgusted my club."

"Furillo's arm is not what it used to be. Mays has the best arm without a doubt. I'd say Wally Post of Cincinnati is next. Furillo is probably third with Duke Snider of Brooklyn and Clemente not far behind."

"I wasn't throwing at him. I was trying to get a fastball on the inside corner for a strike. But it was high and about three inches from the plate. He stands so far from the plate that the ball was at least two and a half to three feet from him. That guy goes down every time a pitch gets within hailing distance of him. He's a scaredy-cat and complains all the time."

"The one player who impressed me the most was Roberto Clemente, both as a man and as an athlete. He was one of the nicest individuals and just tremendous as a ball player. I never saw a better player, although I always regarded Ted Williams as the best hitter."

"The fact that Clemente has been so consistent is the most impressive thing about him. He is hitting over .300 when there are fewer and fewer .300 hitters. Yastrzemski had a great season, but Clemente has had many, many great seasons, and that’s why I picked him. Our scouting reports on him are the best – the best they can be. We rate him at the top in every category. You can’t say more than that."

"Harry told me I might be a Clemente some day. So I told him, "That might be hard to do. I know Clemente. I might be something like him, but, ha, not like him. There is just one Clemente.""

"Roberto is one of the toughest hitters in the league – the kind you can’t pitch to any certain way. You may get him out on one pitch, but throw him the same pitch again and he’ll hit it for a bullet."

"Pat Corrales, now managing the Cleveland Indians, admitted the other day that he has a favorite player. He's Gary Matthews of the Cubs, who played for Corrales in Philadelphia. "He does everything he can to win," Corrales said. "I've never seen him stop driving. And if he sees a teammate who isn't hustling, he'll tell him about it and embarrass him in front of the whole club." According to Corrales, only a few other players are in this same category: Roberto Clemente, Pete Rose and Baltimore's Cal Ripken."

"Clemente has convinced me he’s the best hitter in this league. I always thought Hank Aaron was, but Clemente has shown me something. He hits nothing but line drives, and a pitcher never knows where to throw the ball to him. And he’s just about as good a ballplayer as you’ll find anywhere. He can do everything."

"There were four home runs in the game – two by Willie McCovey, the MVP, and one each by Frank Howard and Johnny Bench. With all of the long balls, the one I remember most was hit by Roberto Clemente. The Great One hit it all the way into the upper deck, but it was foul. I had seen balls hit farther, but I had never seen a ball hit that far to the opposite field!"

"I didn’t have much trouble with Roberto. I threw him a few fastballs inside to keep him from leaning in. One of those fastballs broke his wrist in my rookie season. I saw him that night at a banquet in our hotel, the Pittsburgh Hilton, and tried to apologize, but he waved my words away. "Don’t worry about it," he said. "It’s part of the game." It was also a part of the game that I continued to throw fastballs inside the inside corner to him as a reminder and got him out mostly with outside sliders."

"I was throwing strikes—getting the ball over the plate—but I wasn't getting my pitches in the spots I wanted them. I wasn't getting the pitch that I needed. I tried to make them hit the ball and they hit it. Clemente is the toughest out on the club."

"We're lucky to hold him to a single!"

"If the score had been closer, I probably would have pitched Clemente and Stargell differently. I hope those guys didn’t hurt anybody with those homers. I fed Clemente a slow curve, and he made a believer out of me on one pitch. He’ll never get another one."

"Ball four!"

"I was so drugged up at times that I couldn’t see the scoreboard from the mound. I was a walking drugstore. I had to cover one eye, like a drunk driver does when he wants to see the road. Roberto Clemente hit a line drive back through the box that could have killed me. I never saw it. I still haven’t seen it. I was that fuzzy, that blurred. But I heard it. Did I ever hear it. And I felt it, too. After I escaped being hit, I felt a little sensation on the left side of my neck – like I had a mosquito sitting there, waiting to bite it. I brushed the area with my hand and looked down and my hand was dripping with blood. Clemente’s drive had taken the skin right off the edge of my ear. How’s that for a gentle reminder that you’ve about had it?"

"My book on pitching to Clemente was that you wanted to drive him back off the plate. When he started falling away, make sure he kept falling away, and then go down and away with him. But establish enough in here where you try and take that left shoulder and make it follow that left leg. If you don’t, look out."

"I may rate Joe DiMaggio and Willie Mays a shade better than Clemente, but he rates with the best of this or any era."

"[T]o get him out with fastballs, you had to keep it tight. Otherwise, Willie’d get his hands out. Roberto Clemente was a little bit like that. You heard about stepping in the bucket – when you pull the left foot out on the swing and then your body comes away. But both of those hitters, Mays and Clemente – both Hall-of-Famers – they had the knack of stepping away and throwing the top of their body at the ball, and they had some leverage there. So they hit with power to right or right center."

"I had a chance to sign him before the Dodgers gave him a bonus. I offered the kid $4,000 to sign with our club, and told him we would send him to an A league. The money meant more to him and we weren't taking on any more bonus players. He can do everything, run, throw and hit. He's a bit crude in some things he does, but that's to be expected. I doubt very much if he can play regularly in the majors this year. But you can't tell. He faced some good pitching in Puerto Rico in 1953 and batted .300. Right now, he is far above that figure. The main thing is to hope he can stay relaxed and loose when he gets to the big leagues. If the kid doesn't tighten up, maybe the Pirates will have a good ball player on their hands."

"Of course… there is really no question in my mind that the best ballplayer over the last decade has been Willie Mays. Willie is a little older now… but he is still a tremendous ballplayer and again, next year, he could be the greatest again. When you talk about the decade, you’ve got to consider Willie. Today… today we have a lot of fine players. I’d have to say that Roberto Clemente, who over a period of years has led the league in several departments, would be a great asset to any team. Henry Aaron, of course… and a lot of people underrate Pete Rose. On the basis of the little we saw of him in the World Series, you’d have to put Carl Yastrzemski right up there with the superstars. You cannot pin me down on this. You can split them up. Mays in his prime, you could make a choice. My choice would be easy. But now… now, if you must pin me down to just one… at this moment… I would say Clemente."

"That was a double anywhere in this league – except against him."

"I didn't think the ball was going out. Nobody hits 'em out of the park at that spot. [...] I thought at first I might catch it. Then I thought it would hit the wall and I'd get it on one bounce. I just didn't think any righthander could hit a ball that far."

"He stayed so far away from the plate. I have a little sinking fastball that would go away from him. I thought I could throw it on the outside corner and he wouldn’t be able to reach it, but he knew exactly what he was doing up there. He would just move in toward the plate as you were releasing the ball – he could reach over and hit it to right field with almost as much power as to left field."

"Whitey Ford, who pitched against him twice in the Series, recalls that Roberto actually made himself look bad on an outside pitch to encourage Whitey to come back with it. "I did," Ford recalls, "and he unloaded.""

"Clemente is the type player who adds extra excitement to baseball. He is a rare breed. We have one in San Francisco. The Braves have Henry Aaron. The Pirates have Clemente. We are the three fortunate clubs."

"The key play had to be in the sixth inning when we had the bases loaded. There were two out, remember, after Tito Fuentes struck out. That brought up Willie Mays and who would you like to have up in that situation? Willie, right? So Willie crashed the ball and Clemente made a great catch of the line drive. If that ball had been up a little bit… but that’s the way it goes, doesn’t it?"

"Hank Aaron and Roberto Clemente were the hardest guys for me to pitch to. You might make them look bad on one pitch, but they would hit that same pitch the next time up. They had such good wrist action that they could throw the bat at the ball and make contact. Clemente was a little tougher for me. I could make him look sick on a fastball up and in, and he’d throw the bat at the next pitch and hit it nine miles. You couldn’t have a pattern with him."

"Among all the players on other teams, the only guy I had anything to do with was Roberto Clemente, who was a special case. One reason I talked to Clemente was to explain to him why I always threw at him. He swung way too hard against me, flinging himself at the ball and spinning around in the batter’s box like he was on the playground or something. I had to demonstrate to him that I was no playground pitcher, and to that end I made a point of throwing at least one fastball in his direction nearly every time he came to the plate. In most cases I wouldn’t have felt compelled to provide a reason for knocking a batter down, but somehow Clemente brought out my soft side. It was virtually impossible to ignore him because he was always talking. Usually, it was to complain about how much his back or his shoulder or some other damn thing was hurting him. "Oh, my back," he would say, "ees keeling me." He would go on and on until you had no choice but to say, "Clemente, shut the fuck up!" Then he would step in the batter’s box and swing so hard that the flagsticks on top of the stadium would bend. He was so full of shit that you had to laugh, and you couldn’t help liking the guy."

"I came out throwing hard against Pittsburgh, and we were ahead 1-0 when my old pal Clemente led off the fourth with the Pirates’ first hit – a line drive off my right shin. I couldn’t get up right away, and Bob Bauman rushed out to check my leg and spray ethyl chloride on it. I said, "I hate to tell you, Doc, but you’re spraying the wrong place." He advised me to take a look, and I saw what he saw – a dent in the skin the shape of a baseball. It was odd that I couldn’t feel where I had been struck, but since I couldn’t feel it, I wasn’t particularly worried. I told Doc to put a little tape on it and let me get back to work. Willie Stargell was the next batter, and I walked him. Then Bill Mazeroski popped out, and the count was three and two on Donn Clendenon when I tried to put a little extra on the payoff pitch and collapsed. The fibula bone had snapped above the ankle. I was taken to Jewish Hospital, my leg was put in a cast, and I was out of the pennant race for nearly eight weeks."

"There were very few superstar hitters whom I pitched away, an exception being Roberto Clemente. He was completely unorthodox in the batter’s box and would rip a pitch high and away – like the one he broke my leg with – but I could get him out low and away. Bear in mind that when I say I could get somebody out a certain way, or I had luck with him by doing this or that, it wasn’t an exact science. The good hitters all had strategies for me, too, and there wasn’t a single one of them whom I knew I was going to put away every time. The kind of guys I’m discussing here – the money players – demand special consideration because they basically couldn’t be intimidated, but I always held out hope that I could somehow throw them off their games."

"I faced Roberto Clemente. He was easy to get two strikes on, but the third one wasn’t so easy."

"I have never seen Clemente give a poor effort on a ball field. He runs hard when he hits a ball back to the pitcher. He plays every game as if the pennant is at stake. He is a ball player's ball player."

"What a ballplayer! He had great speed, and could hit the ball like a rocket anywhere. He stood way back in the batters’ box. Rogers Hornsby liked that about Clemente because he used to do the same thing. Clemente would stand in the back corner on the outside, away from the plate so he stepped into everything. You couldn’t throw him a ball away from the plate and get him out because he could reach them all. He could bust that inside ball, too. He didn’t take a big stride, but he was always moving into the ball so that when he hit it, he hit it with everything in his body."

"Your question is an interesting one because there are a lot of interesting players in the game today. If I picked a player from our league, I’d pick Al Kaline of the Tigers. Al never makes a mistake. I’ve never seen him throw the ball to the wrong base, he takes advantage of anything that's fumbled in the outfield, he’s a great hitter, a great outfielder and a great thrower. But still I’ve got to go with Roberto Clemente. He’s got to be the best around today because he demonstrates year in and year out that he can hit the ball. To me he’s got to be one of the great stars in the game of baseball. The funny thing is – though I never really thought it was so funny – is that we just missed getting Clemente in the 1954 draft. That’s when we were in Washington. We were going to take him as our first pick but Pittsburgh was ahead of us and they selected Clemente off Brooklyn’s Montreal roster. So, today, Clemente would be with the Minnesota Twins instead of Pittburgh – and I wouldn’t mind paying him $100,000 a year."

"It was a fastball. It got about six inches of the plate. It was high, about eight inches over his head and I just couldn’t see how he could possibly hit that ball, let alone hit it out of the park. That guy is absolutely incredible."

"Coach Buddy Hancken, who has been in baseball 36 years, said it was the greatest catch he had ever seen."

"It's difficult to rate one great player over another. Clemente belongs in the class with the great ones."

"I know Tommy Helms has said that the hardest ball ever hit at him was a ball hit by Clemente, a righthanded hitter hitting to the right side."

"I remember one time we pitched out on him and he hit a homer, right into the right-field corner. Billy McCool was our pitcher. Roberto just reached out and belted the homer. He could do everything on the field. If he didn't kill you with his bat, arm or glove, he'd do it on the basepaths, taking the extra base. And he always seemed to rise to the occasion."

"Every time I hear that Clemente has an ache, I look for him to go four-for-four."

"He must have fouled off six curves, and the ball he hit out was the same kind of curve I struck him out [with] in the previous inning. It was a good pitch. The one Stargell hit was a bad one. Heck, I supplied half the power myself."

"He ... goes to the plate half-scared. [...] He won the 1961 batting championship and there's no telling how good he would be if he wasn't scared."

"I don’t give up any cheapies. I make ’em bring out the tape measure. I thought I had Clemente this time, because the Pittsburgh park is big and I made him hit the ball where I wanted him to – to the deep part of the outfield."

"He was the only player I ever saw who would hit a single to left field and round the base so hard he would get halfway to second and have to hit the dirt and slide to stop himself, then pop up and get back to first base. If the left fielder bobbled the ball, he would be into second easily – but he always got back to first if he had to. He played that hard and intensely all the time."

"I think Clemente is the only superstar in our league. Well, he and Hank Aaron. Today, he just hit everything I had. He hit a slider for a single, a fastball for a triple and another slider for the home run. He’s something."

"The two best batters in my first seven years in the National League were the late Roberto Clemente and Hank Aaron. These men were gifted with natural ability more than others. Each one of them, day in and day out, year after year, did his job superlatively. They made very few mistakes as hitters; they did not try to overpower the ball, but they hit it as far and as often as any batters ever have. Aaron and Clemente were the true superstars of the National League. They ran, threw, hit, and did everything required of a baseball player as well as it could be done. If they went without a hit on one day, you knew that they were going to get three or four the next. Their ability was natural, but they worked hard to maintain it."

"Roberto Clemente – Roberto was an awesome hitter, a great talent, a super human being. Without him in Pittsburgh, in the 60’s and 70’s, the team would have just been another ball club. Roberto was the backbone of that team."

"He’d come up with a big hit in the eighth or ninth inning to beat me 2-1 or 3-2 with a double. He had that knack. He beat a lot of people, but when the Cubs faced Pittsburgh—and I would get five or six starts against them—I just knew psychologically Pittsburgh was the team we had to beat, and unfortunately, I didn’t have a winning record against them. I can remember a game against the Pirates I was winning 1-0 in Chicago – a short fly ball was hit to right field, Johnny Callison misjudged it, and then Clemente came up and hit a home run. I can see it like yesterday."

"The best hitter I ever saw was Clemente. He could hit from line to line, line drives and long balls."

"Cubs' reliever Darold Knowles remembers when he was with the Phillies years ago and the manager, Gene Mauch, ordered a brushback pitch to Roberto Clemente. "I threw a pitch that was headed for Clemente's left ear. Clemente didn't duck. Instead, he hit the hardest line-drive double I ever did see.""

"I started using it a while back, mostly as a waste pitch. I got ahead of Bob Clemente and decided to go with the slider, and he knocked it out of the park."

"I was experimenting with a slider Tuesday night. After Roberto knocked it over the 406-foot mark in left field, I gave up on the pitch."

"I'm the wrong guy to ask because everything I throw up there he hits. Maybe I should roll the ball to the plate against him."

"Doesn't matter what I throw Clemente, he hits. He hit two home runs off me last year that I still remember. One at Forbes Field, the other in Los Angeles. I can't remember anybody hitting a longer homer off me than Clemente did Sunday on the ball that reached the center field light tower."

"There’s only one way to classify Bob Clemente and that’s as the strangest hitter in all baseball. Figure him out one way and he’ll kill you another. You can be having your best day against everybody else and he’ll treat you as though you had nothing. It’s so hard to say what he’s going to hit or what should be thrown to him. He’s very strong and is extremely quick with his hands. You look at him swinging sometimes on his front foot, sometimes on his rear, sometimes with both feet off the ground, and you’re inclined to think, ‘This guy can’t hit the ball.’ That’s the biggest mistake you can make and I’ve made a few of them against him."

"The longest ball I ever saw hit to the opposite field was hit off me by Clemente at the Los Angeles Coliseum in 1961. It was a fastball on the outside corner, and he drove it out of the park – not just over the fence, he knocked it way out. I didn’t think a right-handed batter could hit it out of the field just at that point but Clemente did."

"What makes Bob the kind of hitter I don’t want to see at bat with runners on is that he’s liable to hit anything. He could hit a pitchout for a home run. A lot of pitchers will try to jam him, but if you try that you’ve got to get it way inside. You can’t throw him two of the same pitches in a row. He may look terrible on the first and hit the darnedest shot you’ll ever see on the next.1 You wonder if he’s looking for you to repeat the pitch in the same place, but I hardly think so.2 He’s so unorthodox you just can’t figure out a way to pitch to him."

"Even when I brought my record up to 5-4 by getting a win in Pittsburgh, I was hit very hard and knocked out of the box in the eighth inning. Roberto Clemente hit an outside fastball that was still rising when it hit against the light tower in left center field, 450 feet away from home plate. And on a 1-2 pitch at that.""

"But there is no such thing as a good pitch to Clemente. Ask me how to pitch Clemente and I’ll tell you with complete confidence, "How do I know?" Roberto can hit any pitch, anywhere, at any time. He'll hit pitchouts, he'll hit brushback pitches. He'll hit high inside pitches deep to the opposite field, which would be ridiculous even if he didn't do it with both feet off the ground."

"I try to keep the ball away from Clemente, but I got this one right down the middle and he hit it pretty good."

"Clemente, Mays, Aaron. Koufax didn't worry too much. Perhaps he didn't have too much to worry about, but free from worry, he was able to concentrate more. "The good hitters are going to hit you," he explained. "You can't get 'em out all the time. And they're not the guys you have to get out to win. Maybe there are two good ones on each team and they're going to get two hits each. That's only four hits, so you must keep the others under wraps. They're the one who beat you." Koufax placed Roberto Clemente, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron in one category as hitters. "Mays always told me how hard it was to get a hit off me and every time I looked up, he was on second base. Yet, even with Mays, I had an idea what to do. When I pitched to Clemente and Aaron, I had no idea. They seemed to hit everything.""

"In addition to his great arm, Roberto Clemente could possibly be a great master if he put his mind to it. I've never seen him play a wall off the wall and be in bad position. Now, he catches balls off irregular walls, he's always in the right place, and he has made some of the longest singles look pretty futile when base-runners try to go for two."

"The best way to pitch him is to roll the ball."

"Mays was the best player I ever saw. Aaron was the best hitter. But that raises the question of where you put Clemente – with Willie, with Henry? He’s right there."

"I also threw the slider a couple of times. I threw the slider to Hank Aaron and Roberto Clemente, because I figured if it worked on those two great hitters, then I had something there. So I threw it to Aaron and almost hit him in the face. He reached out to get it, and it came right at him. And I threw it to Clemente. You may remember that in Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, there was a light tower by where they used to park the batting cage. Halfway up. there was a bunch of transformers. Well, Clemente hit it off a transformer. I said, "Well, maybe I don't have a slider," and I gave it up.So, I never came up with a third pitch."

"Mays is the best player I've seen and Aaron is the best hitter... which raises the question of where you put Clemente; he's right there."

"Those extra base hits [by Clemente, Manny Mota and José Pagán ]… you couldn’t take a gun and hit the holes better. Anyone who says Clemente isn’t a tough hitter is full of baloney. He’s tough because he’s a free swinger, can hit the outside pitch, inside pitch, high pitch, low pitch, fastball, curveball… So what else is left to throw him?"

"Clemente was to right field what Ozzie Smith is to shortstop."

"Hank Aaron. But there are more than Henry. Clemente, Willie Stargell, Williams, Pete Rose – they’re all tough."

"Clemente is one of the three best hitters I’ve seen among those I’ve had a chance to watch on a regular basis. The others were Stan Musial and Hank Aaron. I never had a chance to see much of Ted Williams."

"I don’t know what they mean about not hitting home runs. In the All-Star game two summers ago at Tiger Stadium, Clemente swung at my outside pitch and put it up in the center field bleachers."

"We were playing Pittsburgh, and our first baseman, Earl Torgeson, hit a deep drive to right. I don’t know how far, but it went a long, long way. Clemente quickly retrieved the ball in the corner. Torgeson was on his way to third, and he was a pretty good runner, when Clemente threw the ball to third all the way from the right field corner on a fly and Torgeson was out by 15 feet. Torgeson felt a breeze go by his ear and knew he didn’t have a chance. Clemente had the most powerful arm I have ever seen."

"I used to hear how great Clemente was. This year he has showed me. The man plays as hard as any man I've ever seen."

"I got the pitch on the inside half of the plate, but Clemente stepped back and hit it out of sight. I was actually aiming for the outside of the plate."

"Before I threw the ball I prayed a little bit to God: "Please let this pitch be in a good spot for him not to hit it too hard." I think I was lucky enough to throw the ball in a good spot. It was a ground ball out. I remember one time in Pittsburgh – I struck him out three times. I think that was the greatest day in my life."

"Watching him hit – sometimes with both feet off the ground at contact – and having the best throwing arm in baseball are things I will remember. I also saw him hit a long home run over the scoreboard at Wrigley Field."

"Clemente was the toughest out in the National League during his prime."

"Another guy that never got attention was Roberto Clemente. He was something else. He had a great arm and he could hit. He was a little more flamboyant than Hank, but not like Mays. Willie constantly threw to the wrong base, though, or overthrew the cutoff man to show off his arm. We always kept running on Willie. Don’t get me wrong, he was a great player, but I would take Aaron or Clemente over Mays any time."

"It’s early in the game. I had thrown five consecutive fastballs. He fouled a couple off. So I’ve got him two-and-two and I’m thinking, ‘If you drop the curve ball over the outside corner, you got him.’ When I throw the pitch, I’m instantly disappointed because I know it’s not a strike, that it’s gonna be outside. So I’m thinking, "Oh no, now it’s three-and-two." That’s the instantaneous thought process because I knew this was a ball. I think initially it may have fooled him because he took his normal stride, but his hands stayed back. He was great at that. He must have recognized the spin and thought, "Hey, I can do something with this," and proceeded to one-hop the left-center-field wall with a pitch that wasn’t even a strike. An interesting piece of hitting."

"When I gave up that hit, I had no idea it was his 3,000th. None. I’m thinking, "What’s going on around here? This is a stinking double." The crowd is standing and cheering. The umpire’s handing Clemente the ball at second base and I’m standing there with my arms crossed glowering at him like, "Give me the baseball. We’re trying to play a game here." Anyway, somebody took a picture from the dugout of me with the umpire handing the ball to Clemente in the background. A couple of days later, that photo was sent to me in the clubhouse. It came from one of the clubhouse kids, but I’m assuming Clemente sent it. When you’re going through the competition, trying to win a ballgame is all that matters in the world. Clemente’s death just brings the importance of other things to the forefront very quickly. He was a great player, and what from I knew of him he was a dynamite individual. Baseball and the world lost that day."

"We went into his trophy room, if you will, which was unbelievable. The thing that impressed me most was when he was talking to a couple of hitters, it had something to do with hitting. It was not something I was particularly interested in. So I was looking at the stuff on his wall, listening only half-heartedly. He picked up a maximum dimension bat that he had in the corner. He was showing the guys what he was talking about. I don’t know if anybody knows what a maximum dimension bat is, but it’s the biggest bat that you’re legally allowed to take to home plate. It’s about the size of a grapefruit [at the barrel]. It is monstrous. He picked it up and was waving it around like it was a toothpick. So when they were all done, I thought, "Let’s see what this is all about." I walked over to the corner and grabbed ahold of the bat. I could barely pick it up. The fact that he was strong enough to wave it around like a toothpick was somewhat astonishing."

"He comes off the bench swinging. I like those kind of hitters. He swings at anything he can reach."

"Clemente and greatness are one and the same word. The Pirates will never find another Clemente. Players like him come along once in a lifetime."

"Because of one man—Roberto Clemente. With the chips on the line, there is nobody better than Clemente. He can make all the difference in the playoffs against the Reds."

"Take Clemente out of the Pirates’ lineup and I doubt whether they would be up as high as they are now. I talk with a lot of players around the league and most of them seem to feel that Clemente is the most colorful and one of the most improved men in the league. I certainly agree with that."

"It should have been a home run. The error makes no difference to me and I don’t really care if the ruling’s changed. But I was playing Roberto in right centerfield and I had no chance to catch up to it, it was hit so hard. I guess they gave me an error because they thought I touched it. But it was at least a foot away from my glove when it bounced past me."

"I think I was the best ballplayer I’ve ever seen. I feel nobody in the world could do what I could do on a baseball field. I hope I’m not saying anything wrong, but you have to think you’re the best. The next one would be Roberto Clemente."

"I would have to do it by categories. I was a center fielder. So I would say Roberto Clemente."

"That’s not like me, but I was giving my honest opinion. It doesn’t sound too good, though. [As for the second best player,] I’d have to say Roberto Clemente. He could do anything with the bat and in the field. And then there’s Cesar Cedeno. I don’t know why he hasn’t put it all together. He can do it all."

"I wasn't the best hitter, Ted Williams was. I wasn't the best fielder, Roberto Clemente was. I wasn't the best base stealer, was. But I was among the best in everything."

"Mays and Robin Roberts both told me that Clemente was the best player they ever saw."

"Roberto Clemente threw me out on a bang-bang play at third. I should have remembered what a tremendous arm he had."

"When Willie Mays was in Milwaukee last week, he was reluctant to say who he thought the best player was or is in baseball. At least that’s what Mays said during a brief interview this reporter and many others had with him at the . "That’s for you guys to determine," Mays said. Mays did say Pittsburgh Pirates outfielder Roberto Clemente was the best player he ever saw."

"Over and over again, I have said Willie Mays is the greatest baseball player I ever saw. But Mays always says Roberto Clemente was the greatest player he ever played against."

"He's the best player I ever saw."

"Steve Stone says Willie Mays was the best he ever saw at intentionally looking bad on a pitcher’s curve to make sure the pitcher threw him another one in a key situation. Roberto Clemente was like that, too. He’d take a first-pitch breaking ball and look as if he were shocked by the pitch. That was so he’d get a similar pitch from the pitcher during that at-bat."

"I can still see Roberto Clemente, who had the strongest and most accurate arm I ever saw, throwing one-hoppers from the fence to home plate. Some right fielders have rifles for arms, but he had a howitzer."

"There is only one right fielder – with the possible exception of Larry Walker – that I’ve seen who is as good as Ichiro and that is Roberto Clemente."

"When Roberto Clemente hit a line drive and broke Gibson’s foot in 1967 (it happened in the first inning and Bob threw five more pitches with a broken foot), Clemente considered it justice because Gibson often knocked Roberto down. Clemente figured that what goes around, comes around. Clemente used to tell Gibson, "If I were a pitcher and you were a hitter, how would you like it if I knocked you down?" Gibson would just look at him with a smile and say, "Well, that’s not the case, is it?""

"The toughest hitter I ever had to face was probably someone that neither one of us ever heard of, but of the name players Clemente was the most difficult. There was no rhyme or reason as to what to do with him."

"But I went over to the other league, and, at that time, it was a little better than the American League. I think the difference was that the National League had more guys that could run, throw, field, hit and hit with power. The American League had a lot of guys that could hit the ball with power – Killebrew, Jim Bob Lemon, Roy Sievers – but they weren’t complete players like Clemente and Robinson and Mays and Aaron."

"For some players, the off-speed pitch is a definite weakness. There are certain big league hitters, though, who have no weaknesses – players such as Pete Rose, Roberto Clemente, and Tony Oliva."

"The man can hit. There's only one way to pitch to Clemente – throw it and pray."

"In 1970 I was hitting .325 in midseason, and at dinner one night I told Roberto, “I think I can hit .300 this year." He got mad. "If you think .300, then you will hit .280. If you think .325, then you will hit .300." I did as he said and hit .310."

"The guy was 38 years old and was still putting out 200 per cent on the playing field. That’s how I’ll remember Roberto Clemente. He was a winner. He could rise to the occasion – any occasion. After eight years up here, I’m convinced Clemente was the greatest I’ve seen. Yet, he was always smiling. He would always stop and talk to you."

"In 1971, I was playing for the Houston Astros in a game against Roberto Clemente’s Pirates. With two out in the eighth and Pittsburgh leading 1-0, I was on first with our left fielder Bob Watson at the plate. Clemente was playing medium deep in right center field when Bob hit a laser beam toward the right field corner. It looked as though the ball would strike just above the yellow home run line, which was 'only' 10 feet above the ground. Most right fielders would have positioned themselves to play off the wall a ball hit that high, that far, and that fast. Clemente, who was 36 at the time, wasn’t having any of that. He galloped at full stride into the corner, leaped, and caught the drive while crashing into the fence."

"A right-handed batter, Clemente hit the ball to the opposite field harder than most left-handed pull-hitters could. He didn’t achieve the home run totals of Mays or Aaron, but he played most of his career in Forbes Field, a terrible park for homers. I remember the center field at Forbes being so deep that the grounds crew would store the batting cage out in its farthest reaches during games!"

"If I were to rate the all-time defensive center-fielders, Willie Mays would be (1-A), Curt Flood would be (1-B), and my former teammate Cesar Geronimo would be (1-C). And Geronimo had the best arm of the three. Only Roberto Clemente had a stronger, more accurate rifle."

"Over and over again, I have said Willie Mays is the greatest baseball player I ever saw. But Mays always says Roberto Clemente was the greatest player he ever played against. And other players have agreed with his opinion."

"I saw various. I never saw Willie Mays. I saw Roberto Clemente. He could hit, run, field and throw. Intelligent player. And he played to win. I remember hearing Clemente say that he always tried his best, so that he would never have any self-doubts about whether he gave it his all. I think the same words were attributed to Willie Mays or Joe DiMaggio. I saw Olmo, not a lot. But from what I saw, the way he played left field, you did not forget him. Olmo was elegant. It was Clemente and Olmo."

"I was managing the other team. They had a man on base and this skinny kid comes out and well, we had never seen him, so we didn’t really know how to pitch to him. I decided to throw him a few bad balls and see if he’d bite. He hit the first pitch. It was an outside fastball and he never should have been able to reach it. But he hit it down the line for a double. He was the best bad-ball hitter I have ever seen, and if you ask major-league pitchers who are pitching today, they will tell you the same thing. After a while it got so that I just told my pitchers to throw the ball down the middle because he was going to hit it no matter where they put it, and at least if he decided not to swing, we’d have a strike on him."

"He’s the best hitter for hitting the ball someplace. He’ll give me two quick strikes on him a lot of times, then he’ll whack the third one someplace. He’s such a great two-strike hitter, and just because you get him on one pitch doesn’t mean you’ll do it again. He’s apt to knock the next one any place for two bases."

"Aaron and Clemente would have been something else. We had Olmo as trade bait for Clemente, but a deal couldn’t be worked out."

"He studied everything and he remembered everything. He knew every pitcher and every hitter – whether the hitter had power, where the outfielders should play him, whether or not the guy would try to take the extra base."

"He was the most underrated runner in the game. He never stole a lot of bases. But anytime you really had to have a steal and he was on base, he’d get it for you."

"Oliva hits strikes but Clemente hits everything."

"I never really pitched against him until the World Series. The scouting report said you can go up and in with him, but don’t go there twice. You can pitch him low and away, but don’t stay out there. So what does that leave? Throw it down the middle and hope he hits it at someone. Clemente beat us. The reason they won was Steve Blass’s two games and Clemente. He ran the bases as well as you could run them, made great plays and great throws. And he hit the home run to right field against me, the triple to left-center – he had 12 hits."

"I was reborn in Chicago. In 1971, I hit over .300 for the first time ever. Now I’m a little smarter, and I want to go for it all – I want to be back in that lineup with Billy Williams, who surpassed Roberto Clemente as the greatest hitter in the game."

"You look at the scoreboard when Clemente comes up and you see .394. That's too much for one man. So I have to take a hit away from him."

"Between the umpires and the shadows, the hitters didn’t have a chance. Roberto Clemente struck out four times. That tells you how tough it was."

"I saw someone hit a short fly to right. Lee May was leaning on the third base bag. Clemente got the ball on a bounce and threw Lee out by three or four feet at home."

"Mays rounds third and screeches to a halt. When the world’s best baserunner puts on the brakes on a hit to right, you know it’s because the world’s best arm is in right. And it was a close game – we needed that run."

"They said don’t pitch him inside. I didn’t pitch him inside for three or four years. When I did pitch him inside, he hit a home run, the wind blowing 30 miles per hour against him. He hit it 25 rows deep."

"Clemente was about the second best ballplayer I ever saw – after DiMaggio. Al Kaline was next. I’m talking about people that did it all, for what it was worth – not to put on a show, but for what it was worth to win a ball game."

"Clemente made some sparkling plays in the series, twice making diving catches of fly balls and it brought the comment from Piersall that Clemente is the best right fielder he has ever seen. He picks Clemente over Kaline of the Tigers."

"No matter where I threw it, he’d hit it. He would hit pitches thrown over his head, down by his ankles, inside, outside. I’d get two quick strikes on him and never get the third one."

"If a double was needed, he would go for that. If there were two out and the Pirates needed a run, he would go for the home run. But he would not swing for the fences if his team was down by 3 or 4 runs. He would just try to get on base. That’s a team player."

"At that time, I could really run – I was one of the fastest guys on our team. I was running hard and I shouldn’t have even had to slide. That’s not supposed to happen. It’s a play that, as you see it developing, you usually just tag and go to third. I was safe, barely. I remember saying, "Wow! How did he do that?""

"With most hitters, if a pitcher puts a pitch exactly where he wants it, the hitter hasn't got a chance. But Clemente, I've given him my best pitch, put it in the right spot and he still gets a base hit. Only the really great ones can do that."

"I don’t know how a man can be running away from the ball and hit it into the upper deck. I shudder to think what he would do if he stood at the plate on every pitch and defied the pitcher to pitch to him.1 Clemente’s a one-man show as far as I’m concerned. He’s not only the best today; he’s one of the best that’s ever played baseball. He’s got power, and he’s so fast that any bouncing ball is a potential base hit. He can hit the ball into the upper deck in anybody’s ballpark – right field or left field. He’s got one of the strongest and most accurate throwing arms I’ve ever seen. He can throw from the most awkward and seemingly impossible positions. He can throw people out at second base on balls that would be triples to any other right fielder. And the thing about this fellow is that he actually breaks many of the fundamental rules of hitting. Many times he sticks his fanny out – but he still manages to hit the ball with authority. To me he is one of the most amazing athletes of all time."

"I was just a kid at the time, only 18. Clemente was a holdout that spring. There were several of us rookies who would come in and look over at his locker to see if he had shown up yet. But there would only be his uniform hanging there. Finally, he showed up for workouts and I was a little surprised. I had built Clemente up so much in my mind that I was looking for a guy like Frank Howard. You know – 6-foot-7 and 250 or 260 pounds. But he was nothing like that. He was just average size, just like any other individual. But he was the greatest ballplayer I’ve ever seen."

"In Panama, it was Hector Lopez. The best pitcher was Humberto Robinson. He had the reputation of being hard to beat. In Puerto Rico, Roberto Clemente. It was between him and Orlando Cepeda. Cepeda was a hitter like the first baseman of Detroit now, Cabrera. Cepeda could hit to right with power; he could hit deep to left, depending on where the pitch was. Rubén Gómez was the best pitcher."

"I wish I had thrown the ball as hard as he hit it."

"I don’t know if you ever saw Roberto play, but he was the most unorthodox good ball-player I ever saw. Most good ballplayers are smooth – they do things with rhythm. Well, Roberto had his own rhythm. He looked like he was falling apart when he ran – looked like he was coming apart when he threw. His stance at the plate was ridiculous. When he swung he’d lunge and hit bad balls. There was no way he could hit the ball like that. But no one told Roberto that."

"They got on his back, and he carried the team. He said, "I’m not going to let my team lose.""

"You’d watch him and find yourself saying to the guy next to you, "Did you see that?""

"He was a player you couldn't take your eyes off of."

"In the field, he was like Barry Bonds with the bat. [...] He didn't see any pitch that he didn't like or couldn't hit."

"When I played second base, Clemente hit balls harder at me than any left-handed batter."

"Clemente and Orlando Cepeda hit balls to right as hard as any left-handed hitter in the game."

"I’d say he’s the best hitter I’ve seen since I’ve been in the big leagues. I remember a game with the Pirates two years ago – we beat 'em 8-7. He knocked in all seven runs for 'em with three homers and a double. He hit one of his homers to left field, another to center and the third one to right Unbelievable! It was the finest exhibition of hitting I've ever seen in one game.""

"If someone asked Hunter if I was a super hitter, he'd say no, because I'm not. The only super hitters I've seen are Billy Williams and Roberto Clemente."

"In all due respect to Henry Aaron, Stan Musial and Willie Mays, the best hitter I ever played against was Roberto Clemente."

"I told them Clemente hit the outside pitch, but you've got to pitch him low and away—carefully. [...] His weakness is dangerously close to his strength."

"When I watch Clemente play, I think I'm seeing two ball games. Clemente is a ball game himself. I've seen him make plays recently that I think are great. But it seems the fans, sportswriters and his own teammates take it for granted."

"Koufax and Roberto Clemente. I saw Mays hang on too long. The same for Henry Aaron. I admired Brooks Robinson. I’m starting to lose my admiration for him the same way. I liked Clemente because he was a bust-butt player. He was always a gentleman and wasn’t afraid to run into walls."

"After Stan Musial, Clemente was the best all-around ballplayer I ever saw. I placed him slightly above Willie Mays. Could Clemente ever throw! Even better than Mays – he was more accurate."

"Clemente is the best bad ball hitter in the game today. You can't pitch him any certain way because he might just hit a line drive on a pitch off his shoetops or a foot over his head."

"Clemente is the most complete ball player to wear a baseball uniform. He can do everything to beat you. He can hit for power, he can steal a base, he can field, and his arm alone should take him to Cooperstown."

"Why don't that guy quit already? I've been reading every spring for five years that he is going to retire. I wish he would."

"Is he keeping his hands behind him on the bat, even while he strides forward with his front foot? This is usually the sign of a great hitter, who can commit part of his body to a pitch while maintaining sufficient control and arm strength to do you damage at the last split-second. Willie Mays and Roberto Clemente had this superior ability to wait on a pitch with their arms back, even as they stepped forward. There was no set way to pitch them except to vary your pitch selection while remaining alert to signs of particular strengths, weaknesses, or preferences that they exhibited in any given at-bat."

"He had developed great wrist strength, and not only could he jerk one out of the park even when swinging late, but he could also drive an inside pitch to the opposite field. Take it from me: he was almost impossible to pitch to."

"He stood there, far away from the plate with that great big long bat, and with those strong hands he controlled it like crazy, hitting pitches on the other side of the plate. There was that one area out there at the knees off the outside corner. If you hit that spot with a pitch, he’d look and walk away. If you missed it, he’d hit the ball very hard."

"I had a kind of dual relationship with a Roberto Clemente, a Henry Aaron, a Willie Mays. You watch them and you appreciate their professional approach and their God-given expertise of the game. Then you're competing against them. [...] Clemente and Mays and Aaron. These are the guys who, when you weren’t pitching, you just sat there and watched them play, watched what they did. Anybody who watched the ball when Willie Mays was on the field was crazy. And Clemente was very much the same."

"When Macon used to keep Clemente and Cimoli on the bench last season and play Cassini and Whitman, he sure was doing us a favor.""

"Carl Furillo was the best right fielder I ever saw until Roberto Clemente came along, and Clemente was possibly the best ballplayer I’ve ever seen. And just think that we could have had Clemente in our outfield. [...] Imagine if the Dodgers had Clemente all those years. I don’t know if Clemente would have played left and Furillo right, of if Furillo would have moved to left to allow Clemente to play right. Either one of them could have been a great left fielder, and that would have given us a great outfield for years. With both of them, we might have won a few more world championships in Brooklyn."

"[Clemente] was another of the people who played "Thou shalt not pass me with a fastball." He had extremely good power to right-center field. I found out through trial and error that the best way I could pitch to him was down and away. Always keep the ball down. He was a super high-ball hitter. Most of the great hitters are high-ball hitters. They see the ball better up there. And all good hitters hit hit with their hands above the ball. For that reason, they were always getting the big part of the bat on the ball when it was up higher in the strike zone."

"I was trying to waste the pitch. I wanted him to swing on a bad pitch. I didn’t care if I walked him. I wouldn’t even care if I hit him. I had two bases open. [...] I knew the two bases were open. I figured if maybe I could get him to swing again at a pitch around his head."

"Clemente has fantastic power, fantastic speed, a fantastic ability to hit the ball to the opposite field, a fantastic arm – he is the complete ballplayer. Roberto is not merely good at everything, but great at everything. He just beats you, and beats you at everything you can do in baseball. I know of no other player comparable to him."

"Clemente's the best defensive outfielder I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been on his ballclub and I don’t know what he’s like as a team player, but this guy can do just everything to beat you – run, hit, throw, catch, and just kill you with power. He’s the best player I’ve seen in the big leagues."

"He made the greatest throws I ever saw in my life. He would go into that bullpen (along the right field line in Forbes Field) where you couldn’t see home plate. One time, he went for a ball that spun into the bullpen. A guy was tagging up from third base with one out. He knew he had it made, he didn’t run hard. All of a sudden this rocket came from nowhere. It was like a strike, right across the plate. He (Clemente) couldn’t even see home plate!"

"One time in spring training, I was pitching against Clemente and Wes Westrum came out and said, ‘He can’t hit the fastball inside off the plate.’ I threw a fastball about a foot inside and he hit it on a dead line. It was still going up as it went over the center field fence."

"Clemente was the best player I competed against and the most exciting I ever saw."

"Roberto Clemente was the best player I’ve ever played against. Anything between the on-deck circles was a strike to him. I’ve seen him double on knock-down pitches."

"Toughest hitter to face? I can’t figure out one. There probably were five: Roberto Clemente would be at the top of the list. Rico Carty, Bill Madlock, Bob Watson… and the world-famous Rance Mulliniks."

"I saw him hit line drives off the brick wall at Forbes Field. One of them was the hardest ball I ever saw hit. I saw Willie Stargell and Willie McCovey and Dick Allen hit some long balls against us, up and out, but Clemente's was different. I just never saw a ball hit so hard.""

"Roberto Clemente was such an awesome hitter. I never knew how to pitch him. You could throw the ball a foot inside and he’d hit a line drive down the left field line. Throw it a foot outside and he’d hit a home run over the right field fence. Dick Selma was pitching in Forbes Field one time and it was a tight spot late in the game. Roberto was up with a chance to beat us, and Westrum came out to the mound. He knew that if you threw the ball inside or outside, Roberto could still hurt you. So he said, "Throw one right down the middle of the plate, letter high. He won’t be looking for it there.” Sure enough, Roberto hit it 400 feet, but he hit to dead center field for an out."

"The good hitters, it just steeled their resolve. I saw Henry Aaron get knocked down, maybe twice in a row, and then they’d make the perfect pitch, a low outside slider, and he’d hit the most awesome line drive homer over the right center field fence. Same thing for Willie Mays. Knock him down and you just made him a better hitter. Same for Willie Mays. Same for Roberto Clemente."

"I would watch him hit and hit and hit. He was the best I’d ever seen at setting pitchers up. He’d look bad one at-bat and then kill them with the same pitch the next."

"It all began with Clemente hustling to first. He knows only one way to play this game."

"I got a hit to right field and rounded first base as most runners do. Clemente picked up the ball, faked a throw to second and threw it so fast behind me to first base I was caught and tagged out. It was my most embarrassing moment on the field."

"Back then, there were few hitters who could hit the ball with any authority to the opposite field. The ones that went to the opposite field were Punch-and-Judy hitters, but Clemente could drive the ball. I didn’t know how to pitch to somebody like that so I stayed off the plate and that’s where he hit. I had no clue how to pitch to Clemente. I just tried to keep it down."

"When I managed the Pirates, Clemente did everything any man could do on a ball field. In my years in baseball, I have never seen a greater ball player than Clemente."

"Houston manager Harry Walker, who has been in baseball 34 years, and Coach Buddy Hancken, who has been in baseball 36 years, both said it was the greatest catch they had ever seen. "I never saw one like that off the wall," Walker said. "He hit it wide open. He never slowed up. I don't see how he could keep the ball in his glove. The thing that makes him so great is that he does it all in a jam," Walker said. "He's one of the best clutch players in the game.""

"Clemente is the most exciting player in baseball today. While the other players are getting the headlines, he is always doing something to help the Pirates win. To me, he is the best."

"Did you see how Clemente has been running against the Orioles? Man, how he runs! He has been that way ever since he got into the big leagues. He gives it everything he has—with his bat, with his glove, with his arm and with his legs. Like you say, people didn't appreciate him enough. They do now."

"Walker believes Clemente can play for three to five more years. "He has the body for it. Another thing, Roberto takes care of that body, not like some athletes.""

"We can beat the Pirates because they no longer have Roberto Clemente. Nobody will know what Clemente meant to them until this year when they have to do without him. We can beat the Pirates without Clemente, and we are better than the Cubs.”"

"The first start I ever got in the big leagues was in Pittsburgh for the last three games in 1967. I knew Dock Ellis and I met Clemente through him. We talked every time we met in the following years. He gave me a few pointers. I felt if a guy like Roberto could tell you something, it was wise to listen. I always like to talk to outstanding players about hitting – Roberto Clemente, Joe Torre, Tommy Davis. Guys who have the same hitting style as I do. But I remember Roberto for one thing he did with his glove, not his bat. In 1971, he took a home run away from me here in the Dome. Steve Blass was pitching and we were behind, 1-0, in the ninth. Joe Morgan walked and I hit a ball to right that was going over the yellow line. I know the game is tied for sure. If [it’s gone], we win. But Clemente went head-on into the wall, and fell to the ground, almost on his neck. He was motionless. Al Oliver came over and took the ball out of his glove. I couldn’t believe he caught the ball."

"At least, I got robbed by one of the best in the business. It’s like if you were a trainman in the old days and Jesse James held you up. You know you’ve been robbed by the best highwayman in the business."

"Bob Watson, assistant general manager of the Houston Astros, votes for Glenn Wilson of the Astros. He puts Wilson in his all-time top five, along with Reggie Smith, Ollie Brown, Ellis Valentine and Roberto Clemente. "Actually," he added, "Reggie Jackson had just as strong an arm as any of them, but you never knew where the ball was going.""

"Roberto Clemente was the greatest ballplayer I have ever watched. He could do it all. In fact, last year, Gonzalo Márquez, one of our young outfielders, told me he was going to copy Clemente. I told him if he could become one third of the ballplayer Clemente was, he would make me very happy."

"I’m more convinced than ever that there aren’t as many good hitters in the game, guys who can whack the ball around when it’s over the plate, like an Aaron or a Clemente. There are plenty of guys who can hit the ball a long way, but I see so many who lack finesse, who should hit for average but don’t."

"Oh sure, we had a defense for him; but a lot of good it did. He can hit the ball any place on the field and with power. There are few like him. And his arm demands respect. Baserunners don't go from first to third often on Clemente's arm."

"Clemente had a tremendous arm. He took great delight in fielding a base hit in right field with a man on first base and pausing. He’d just stand there – sometimes in deep right – and hold the ball saying, ‘Go ahead to third.’ Runners wouldn’t dare go because Clemente nailed them every time. The crowd at Forbes Field would cheer, and Clemente would lob the ball back in to second. I didn’t go from first to third against Clemente either – except one time. I’ll never forget the day. It was a Sunday afternoon in Forbes Field. [...] Somebody hit a shot to right field right at Clemente. He picked the ball up to dare me, and I rounded second. As I rounded the base, I looked back at him over my shoulder as if I were going to honor his arm. And when I looked, I just shifted into high gear. He saw that and came up firing. He made a clothesline throw, all the way to third in the air. It wasn’t even on one hop. I slid a la Rickey Henderson and Pete Rose – headfirst. I don’t mean I put one hand down to break my fall. I mean I was stretched out parallel to the ground with both hands out as if I’m diving into a swimming pool. “SAFE!" In Forbes Field, the dugouts were like pillboxes. Standing in the dugout, your shoulders were at field level. When I beat the throw, all my teammates were at the top of the dugout applauding. We hated Clemente’s guts because he was so good. He had a style about him of arrogance, cockiness and defiance."

"I'm coming up on 50 years in baseball. It's really tough to pick the one game I'd call the game of my life. Let's see, there was the first game I ever played up here. I hit a line drive to right field and Roberto Clemente came in and slid and made a great catch. I guess I realized I was playing in the major leagues at that point."

"One day at the Polo Grounds a pitch got away from me and I yelled, ‘Look out, Robert [sic].’ It was a high fastball. Clemente just put up his bat and fouled off the pitch. He was an amazing hitter."

"At first, I didn't think it had a chance of going out. I even thought I could catch it. But it kept jumping, and when it did leave the park at that spot, I just couldn't believe it."

"My first major league game was at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, and Roberto Clemente almost killed me! Not many people know this, but I came up as a shortstop. Clemente hit a screaming line drive, and I got my glove up just as the ball hit the left field wall. I was one heck of a high school shortstop, but the majors were another story. After that, I told the coaches and manager to get me out of the infield."

"I remember I was playing shortstop in that game and I almost got killed by a line drive by Clemente. We had the infield in, and Clemente hit one that ricocheted off my glove, off the top of my hat and went into center field for a triple. My thought was, "Get the married men off the infield, quick!""

"One fact about big league life came hard in my first game. The ball just seems to come at you faster on the infield, and especially on a steel-hard surface like they had at old Forbes Field. Roberto Clemente lashed a wicked hop-and-skip grounder to me that I played all right, but I stopped it with my shin. Man! Did that thing ever sting! It's a wonder I even made the play."

"It was against the Pirates in Houston. I pitched five innings and I remember Roberto Clemente. I don’t remember Willie Stargell. The one to remember, though, was Roberto Clemente. Bob Lillis was playing shortstop and Clemente hit a rocket, a one-hopper, that almost took Lillis from shortstop and put him in the left-field stands. Lillis wound up throwing him out, but he hit a rocket off me."

"Yogi, and all the Yankees, for that matter. But I saw Clemente when I was coaching for the Mets. I believe he was the best I saw."

"When you come down to it, all depends on the final score whether you're a hero or a bum. Roberto Clemente, the toast of the town, disobeyed his manager's frantic signals Wednesday night to stop at third base. Instead, he kept on rock and rolling homeward for an inside-the-park grand-slam home run to beat the Chicago Cubs. Had he been cut down at the plate, the Puerto Rican flash would have been the roast of the town. Unquestionably, Bobby Bragan would have slapped him with one of his patented $25 fines. But Roberto got away with it. He scored the winning run in the face of an obvious skull. Fine him? Heck, no! You don't reprimand or fine a man who wins a ball game for you. No, sir. That's what Bragan said after the victory. We wonder what will happen to the next fellow who pulls the same stunt and costs the Pirates a ball game. Fine him? Heck, yes!"

"Roberto Clemente boomed a 500-foot home run high over the 30-foot green fence at Terry Park today and it took a shot like that to knock over the improved New York Mets by a score of 7 to 5. Clemente's tremendous blow came in the eighth inning off Darrell Sutherland on the first pitch and broke up a 5-5 tie. [...] Sutherland was so shook up by Clemente's drive that he gave up a triple to Donn Clendenon and walked three men in a row to force in a superfluous run as far as the game was concerned. It was only the third time in the [12-year] history of Terry Park that any hitter cleared the high green fence. [...] Clemente's home run, which almost hit the flag some 10 feet above the fence, was just too much—even for the Grapefruit League-leading Mets to take."

"If Roberto Clemente isn't heading in the direction of the National League's Most Valuable Player Award this year, then no other man has been on the right track before. The colorful Pirate outfielder daily gets new support from baseball writers who do the voting for this high honor. Without naming or quoting them, I have talked with several visiting press box authors from Houston, Los Angeles, Chicago and Atlanta during this Prates' home stand who said Clemente deserved to get their vote. If this is considered plumping for ballots, so be it. In this, his greatest season since joining the Pittsburgh club in 1955, Roberto is playing like a man obsessed with the idea that baseball's holy grail, the pennant, belongs to the Pirates and no other team. There's no use going into the statistical side of his achievements. They are present every day for all to see. It is his driving inspirational leadership which has built a fire among his teammates to go all out for victory."

"Roberto Clemente told a couple of writers who want to "ghost" the book he has in mind to write that he will talk into a tape recorder to make sure everything printed "will be the way I say it.""

"Frank Scott, former Pittsburgh boy who made good in New York as an agent for athletes, has two more good ones going for him: Roberto Clemente and . Scott recently got together with Frank Eck, Associated Press scribe, on a proposed book about Clemente.."

"Roberto Clemente's book, which will be co-authored by Frank Eck of the New York Associated Press office, is expected to net $50,000 from the publisher. I have heard some of the tapes and read a couple of the chapters. The book will offer excellent reading when it comes out in six months."

"We were in Cooperstown (NY) a few years ago. Baseball's Hall of Fame Museum was full of visitors on a sunny morning. Among them were Pirates and Tigers players in baseball uniforms, sans spikes. They were to meet in an exhibition game an hour later. Roberto Clemente had a small camera whirring every few minutes. He was taking pictures of the enshrined plaques and other mementos of yesteryear's super stars ... Honus Wagner, Ty Cobb, Christy Mathewson, Tris Speaker, Grover Alexander ... to name a few. A Pittsburgher said to Roberto, "This is where you belong. Some day they will be taking pictures of your shrine here." "Thank you," he replied. "I guess a fellow like me has to die to get voted in by the writers.""

"Speaking of books, one news wire service will soon come out with four of them on Roberto Clemente.... Frank Eck, New York Associated Press sports writer, says he has the only real book on Clemente ... composed of taped interviews."

"A few will wonder out loud, or in print, why Roberto Clemente wasn't included. The late Pirate super star belongs but he is of such recent vintage, I decided to keep to the old timers list players who haven't been around for at least 20 years [specifically, George Sisler, Rogers Hornsby, Pie Traynor, Honus Wagner, Ty Cobb, Joe DiMaggio, Babe Ruth, Mickey Cochrane, Lefty Grove and Walter Johnson ]. As a matter of fact, it was Clemente who triggered off the above column. I asked a Pirate official, who will go nameless, what he thought the Great One would be worth salary-wise compared with the 10 named above, now playing [i.e. Dick Allen, Joe Morgan, Brooks Robinson, Luis Aparicio, Carl Yastrzemski, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Johnny Bench, Steve Carlton and Bob Gibson ]. His answer: "He was worth in all-around ability more than any one of them. He belongs with your old-timers.""

"Allen got up one time to get a soft drink. He flexed his powerful arms and shoulders, the muscles rippling. If anybody had a better body in the present era of baseball it was the late Roberto Clemente. Allen is a heavier man, going about 190."

"Roberto Clemente, the Pittsburgh right fielder, has convinced everyone by now that he has a fine arm. Clemente uncorked two great throws to home plate today which never touched the ground."

"Roberto Clemente, the Pittsburgh right fielder, must have taken a course in the Willie Mays school of outfielding. Clemente looks a lot like Mays catching a fly ball. In the Mays-Clemente method, you catch the front part of the ball backward, which means your head points to the South while your feet are running North. It's not recommended for fellows with stiff necks or starched collars."

"The House of Representatives of Puerto Rico took official note of the selection of one of its citizens, Roberto Clemente, as the National League's Most Valuable Player. The Puerto Rican House got together three pages of "whereases" and "wherefores" to congratulate both Clemente and the Baseball Writers' Association of America."

"Ballplayers are notoriously reluctant to talk about their injuries or the infirmities of "old age." Roberto Clemente was out for weeks with a bad back and it was apparent in this series that he was swinging with effort. And yet, every time he was asked how he felt, he always said "great.""

"The durable right fielder, a physical phenomenon at 38, shows no outward signs of relinquishing his claim as the best all-around player in the game today. But a closer look at Clemente's Achilles heel, medically and figuratively, reveals an interesting development. One medical report has it that Clemente has rheumatism in both ankles as well as his right knee and right elbow. Still, he continues to give a fabulous performance."

"I was trying to waste a pitch,” he said of Roberto Clemente’s home run. “I wanted to have him swing on a bad pitch. I didn’t care if I walked him. I wouldn’t even care if I hit him. I had two bases open.” Clemente is the kind of fellow who drives pitchers crazy. Stallard fired a fastball near Clemente’s ear. Roberto swung and missed. The crowd cheered. They like that kind of extravagance. Then came the next pitch. This was up near Clemente’s eyes and a foot outside. He flicked his bat, lined a ball upstairs. Foul, motioned umpire Ed Sudol. This confused the crowd. Some cheered. Others booed. They were obeying orders. One of the signal-men held up a bedsheet. It said: BOO. “I knew the two bases were open; I figured maybe I could get him to swing again at a pitch around his head,” said Stallard. Stallard, a marvelous Met in his own right, just couldn’t let the drama build any longer. He threw a real pitch to Clemente, the kind any human being hitter would duck away from and scream for the umpire. Naturally, Clemente hit it upstairs [i.e. right field upper deck]. “He never gets a strike to swing at,” said Danny Murtaugh. “He likes those kind.""

"And then, too, there was the shared experience, already permanently fixed in memory, of Roberto Clemente playing a kind of baseball that none of us had ever seen before—throwing and running and hitting at something close to the level of absolute perfection, playing to win but also playing the game almost as if it were a form of punishment for everyone else on the field."

"It was ‘shot night’ at Candlestick last night, and the popular theory that the Giants’ new park is a home run cemetery was thoroughly shaken up – if only for one game. Four hitters, three of them Giants, slugged baseballs over the distant fences, and every one of them was smashed with velocity comparable to the winds which whipped through the park all night. Easily the most satisfying homer was hit by the ‘birthday boy,’ Willie Mays, who reached the age of 29 with an off-field shot in the sixth inning off shell-shocked Pirate pitching ace, Vernon Law. The line drive just eluded the acrobatic leap of Roberto Clemente, hit the top of the right field barrier and bounced high over the fence. “That was the first (censored) hit I ever got on my birthday. But that second one I hit (which Clemente caught) was the hardest one I hit. I’m a better hitter when I go to right, but I haven’t hit a good one to left center, where my real power is, since I played in this park.” The lost balls were belted, in order, by Willie McCovey (a 410-foot liner to right center), Willie Kirkland (a 430-foot job that bounced into the right field parking lot), Mays’ birthday hit, and then the biggest shot of them all, and that one belonged to Roberto Clemente. Roberto’s blow traveled 410 feet, but it was hit into the treacherous cross-wind in left center. Pittsburgh manager Danny Murtaugh said afterward that he’d ‘like to see Clemente’s hit on a clear day with no wind and see how far it really would go.’”"

"Roberto Clemente's triple in the big seventh inning of the opener yesterday went far over Bell's head in dead center, landed on the warning track and hit the ball on one hop. Must have traveled 450 feet in the air and would have been a homer in any National League park except Forbes Field and the Polo Grounds."

"If there's one player who appears to be capturing the fancy of the fans, it must be Clemente. They cheer him when he comes to bat and scream when he responds with a hit. In the field, they watch every move he makes. When he turns in a good catch or makes a fine throw, they hold the major share of their applause until Clemente returns to the bench. They really like the kid and like his actions."

"There aren't many bright spots on the last-place Pirates, but one of the brightest is Roberto Clemente, the 20-year-old Puerto Rican whom the Bucs drafted from the Dodger farm at Montreal. Although he has only a working knowledge of English and speaks with some difficulty, Clemente has no trouble at all playing the National Game. Until he ran into a recent slump, during which he went through eight games with only one hit, Clemente was the leading Buc hitter. But even in his slump, he hit the ball hard, although right at some fielder. The Pittsburgh fans have fallen in love with his spectacular fielding and his deadly right arm. In the first 50 games Clemente played, he turned in ten assists, in addition to some sparkling catches in the outfield. The Forbes Field customers have singled him out as their favorite and he always draws cheers when he steps into the batters box. Although still hitting the ball hard, Clemente claims he won't be at his best until he plays in mid-summer weather. "I no play so gut yet," he tried to explain recently. "Me like hot weather, veree hot. I no run fast cold weather. No get warm in cold. No get warm, no play gut. You see." Clemente likes Forbes Field because of the spacious playing area in right field but has developed a strong dislike for Ebbets Field and the Polo Grounds since he can't fathom the way the balls ricochet off the walls there."

"Clyde Sukeforth actually was the first man connected with the Pirates who saw Roberto Clemente when the Puerto Rican was playing for Montreal last summer. Sukeforth, a Bucco coach, was sent to Richmond, Va., last June to get a look at pitcher Joe Black of Montreal. The Pirates and Dodgers were talking about a Sid Gordon trade at the time and the Bucs asked for Black in the deal but wanted a first hand report on how he looked. But Sukey practically forgot all about Black when he caught his first glimpse of Clemente. "I arrived at the Richmond ball park where Montreal was playing just in time to see the pre-game workout," Sukey relates. "I saw Clemente throwing from the outfield and I couldn't take my eyes off him. Later in the game he was used as a pinch-hitter and I liked his swing. He impressed me a great deal. I started asking questions and learned he was a bonus player and would be eligible for the draft. I knew then he'd be our first draft choice. In fact, I told Montreal manager Max Macon to take good care of 'our boy' and see that he didn't get hurt.""

"Clemente couldn't properly celebrate his 21st birthday yesterday because there was no game but he did it tonight, two singles and a 450-foot homer. Viva Puerto Rico!"

"There was one more or less historic moment in yesterday's second game when Hershell Freeman walked Roberto Clemente on a 3-1 count in the eighth inning. It happened to be Clemente's first base on balls since June 7, covering a period of 50 games during which he went to bat 192 times. If this isn't a record, it should be."

"Although the pair by the Phils did the most damage, the inside-the-park job by Roberto Clemente in the first inning was the most thrilling. [...] Clemente greeted Haddix with a line drive that gathered momentum as it approached Ashburn and took off over his head and ricocheted off the wall toward the batting cage. By the time Ashburn picked up the ball, Clemente was at third base and he made it to the plate without trouble. The hit provoked an argument between the Phillies and the umpires because the ball rolled under the batting cage but the Phils were told there was no ground rule to cover the situation."

"Although Roman Mejias is the outfielder the Pirates are trying to make look attractive in a deal with the Braves, Mejias isn't the outfielder the Braves want. The outfielder the World Champions want is Roberto Clemente and they make no secret of it. [...] The Bucs tried to substitute Mejias for Clemente but the Braves wouldn't use the same trading bait. They feel they may have the same kind of outfielders on their bench as Mejias but they know what Clemente can do. It is reported the Braves are willing to offer two pitchers and a choice of one other player for Clemente, on the assumption the Bucs are desperate for pitching strength. One of the pitchers in believed to be Bob Buhl, an 18-game winner the past two seasons. The other would be a relief pitcher and the infielder-outfielder would be one of the reserves now riding the Milwaukee bench. However, the Pirates naturally don't feel this is strong enough trading material for a player with all the skills of Clemente. [...] No matter what the Braves may offer in the way of trading material, it's doubtful if the Pirates would part with Clemente. He's on the doorstep of greatness now and there's no telling how high he can go. The Pirates need players of Clemente's ability more than other teams and it would be foolish to let him get away."

"Roberto Clemente's second-game homer that cleared the left center bleachers touched off some excitement . . . Players and fans said they never before had seen a ball go over that section and it was close to a 500 -foot sock . . . Clemente, grinning all the way from here to Puerto Rico, said he never hit a longer one."

"Dick Stuart, who hit an estimated 500-foot homer over the left field scoreboard in Pittsburgh, has a rival in Roberto Clemente. The Puerto Rican outfielder of the Pirates made the Cubs sit up and take notice when he drilled a homer off southpaw Bill Henry in Chicago in the May 17 nightcap that left Wrigley Field via the left-center corner of the bleachers. Wrigley Field observers rated it at probably 500 feet. Rogers Hornsby, the Cubs batting coach, said it was the longest he ever witnessed and [manager] Bob Scheffing agreed it was No. 1 in his book."

"Clemente offers an object lesson in self-discipline to hitters who swish for the seats. The 25-year-old, 173-pound right-handed hitter who finally has won the unqualified praise of George Sisler as an expert batsman, has learned how to subdue the home run urge. "I do not care about home runs," says Clemente, who can hit for distance with the best. "The pitch is always away from me and it is foolish to try to pull this pitch for a home run. The pitcher does not wish it so, and I don't try. I am not foolish. Only in Philadelphia I think maybe I will try for the home run, but I do not think so even in L.A. I make the hits which the pitcher cannot stop, and that is better than striking out and will drive out the pitcher, too.""

"Clemente started a home-run binge against the Dodgers in Los Angeles, August 30th, by hitting a liner over the 375-foot mark in right field,1 and in one stretch owned four homers in five games. He hit one against the Giants over the right field fence in Candlestick Park and the next day drilled one over the left-center fence that Garry Schumacher, Giant publicist, declared was the hardest hit ball there all year. Clemente powered a 420-foot shot into the center field portion of the stands [sic]2 at Forbes Field against Jim Owens and the Phils on September 4th for his fourteenth of the season."

"Dick Stuart took a look at Roberto Clemente slashing line drives one day and made a pertinent observation. “There must be the best 169-pound slugger in baseball,” Stuart said of the Pirate right fielder. Clemente lost some weight during the winter in his native Puerto Rico and never has been able to regain it. But he hasn’t lost his fierce swing… He was leading the Pirates not only in batting but also in RBIs with 23, and of his three homers, two went to right field, indicating his power to all fields. Clemente slammed a homer into the right field stands in Pittsburgh [on May 9th] and also performed the novel feat of drilling one over the right field wall in Philadelphia [on May 19th]."

"Clemente is in love with Wrigley Field, where he's batting .693 so far [this season] on nine hits, three homers and nine RBIs. "This is my ball park," Clemente said after his day's work. "Every game is played in daylight and I can see the ball good. And I can reach the stands in any direction. I hope I'm never traded but if I am, I wish it would be to the Cubs. I know I do well there in 77 games." Two years ago, Clemente hit a home run out of the park in center, close to the scoreboard, and natives in Chicago say they never saw it done before."

"Roberto Clemente almost made history Saturday - missing by a foot or so of being the first right-handed batter to hit a ball to the right field roof [at Forbes Field]. Clemente's homer in the first inning landed against the facing of the right field roof, a tremendous blast as it was. The Houston bullpen reported Saturday the ball struck the right field foul screen but Bobby Bragan, who was in the bullpen, corrected the version. "The ball was within a foot or so of landing on top of the roof and perhaps two or three feet in fair territory," Bragan said. "It probably was the longest ball ever hit to that field by a right-handed batter.""

"If the Dodgers had kept Clemente with them at —as they did with Sandy Koufax—the course of baseball might have been drastically changed. This intrigued me and I did some research on the subject. For years, the Dodgers kept looking for a left fielder to pair up with in center and in right. This might have been an all-time outfield: Clemente-Snider-Furillo. Imagine Clemente taking dead aim at the comfortable home-run area in Ebbets Field for four years and the short left field fence in the Coliseum for the next three years. The Dodgers won the pennant in 1955 and again in 1956. They won after a playoff in 1959 and copped it again in 1963. But wouldn't it be safe to assume they could have won in 1957, 1958, 1960, 1961 and 1962 with a Clemente in their lineup?"

"In a period covering the last four years, Clemente owns the highest batting average of any player. His .324 mark is nine points better than Hank Aaron's .315. He seldom hits high fly balls. He specializes in fierce ground balls and line drives between the outfielders."

"Roberto Clemente was charged with ten errors in right field, but as one who saw Clemente in every inning, this correspondent believes Bobby is many times the victim of a scoring rule. Possibly half of Clemente’s ten errors came when his lightning throws from the outfield hit a runner as he slid into a base. Clemente, who often led the league in assists had only 13 in 1964. The runners simply don’t take the chances on his fine arm any more."

"Clemente made an almost unheard-of assist in this game. With runners on first and second and Pirates charging for the plate, pushed a bunt into the vacated shortstop position for one run. tried to go from first to third but Clemente, sizing up the situation quickly, came in from right field to short and threw out Bond at third."

"Just how do you catalogue Roberto Clemente? He is about to win his second straight National League batting title and his third in five years, yet he’s never driven in 100 runs. But you take him out of the Pirate lineup and you’ve never seen such a change in a team. It’s difficult to visualize what a difference Clemente makes to the Bucs. His mere presence in the field is insurance against extra bases, an outfielder who can rob you time after time. At bat, he swings viciously. He may knock you down with a line drive or beat out a slow roller or a high bounce. He worries a pitcher as much as any hitter in the league. When Clemente is out of the lineup, the Pirates just don’t seem the same. The other players know it, particularly the pitchers, and so does the opposition."

"Clemente's first hit [of the game] was one to remember. It started on a line toward the right-center fence and came within inches of clearing the wall at the 436-foot sign. The ball bounced off the wall right back into Bob Murphy's [sic] hands and he was able to hold Clemente to a double. But the blast caused a rumble through the stands and no doubt unnerved Jack Fisher."

"was just one strike away from pocketing a 5-4 Cub decision over the Pirates when he found himself in a head-to-head battle with Roberto Clemente. This was the ninth inning in Chicago and there were two outs, none on. Abernathy had Clemente no balls and two strikes, but apparently the Pirate slugger worried the Cub reliever and he grew too careful. He threw three balls and then Clemente put on a dazzling display of bat control. Abernathy threw eight straight strikes and Clemente fouled off every pitch, seven to right field. Then he drew a walk and , who always hits Abernathy, hit him again. Abernathy worked the count to 3-and-1 and Stargell fouled two pitches, then rammed a long, line-drive double high off the center field wall to score Clemente from first with the tying run. The Bucs won it with four runs in the eleventh, but it was Clemente who saved it with his remarkable performance."

"Roberto Clemente gave the fans something exciting to talk about last night at Forbes Field although the Cardinals decked the Pirates for the second straight time, 4-2. Clemente hit his second tape measure home run over the Barney Dreyfuss Memorial in centerfield in the eighth inning and this brought down the house. It also impressed the Cardinals, you can be sure. No righthanded batter in the 57-year history of Forbes Field ever has performed this feat twice. Clemente did it Sunday. [...] Was this one a better shot than the one on Sunday? "Sunday was the longer ball," Clemente said. had the identical reaction of of the Astros. "I thought at first I might catch it," Flood related. "Then I thought it would hit the wall and I'd get the bounce. I just didn't think any righthander could hit a ball that far.""

"Clemente has been arguing for years that the Dreyfuss Monument is in dead center at Forbes Field and a surveyor could draw a line from home plate through second base and touch the monument. The 457-foot mark—where the left field wall and the right field wall converge and where the batting cage is stored—actually is a bit to the left of dead center."

"In his third game, Clemente hit his first home run, an inside the park job off the left field bullpen at the against lefthander . It was also his first RBI."

"The night Clemente put on his show, only 5,222 fans showed up in Cincinnati. The next night, the attendance jumped to 13,389 and Clemente put on a display during batting practice. He lofted five of six balls out of the park in all directions and when he left the batting cage, the fans applauded. “It’s the first time I’ve seen that since Ted Williams’ days with the Red Sox,” coach remarked. Clemente left Cincinnati, trailed by admiring remarks from the Reds."

"The Bucs almost had Belinsky out of there in the first inning. Alley had the first of three hits and rode home when Staub tried in vain to make a pick-up of Clemente's pop single. The ball eluded Staub and Morgan had to chase it so Coach gave Clemente the green light. Chuck Harrison relayed to John Bateman but Clemente hit him hard, knocked the ball loose and touched home plate with the second run, on a triple and an error by Harrison. Clemente beat out a high hopper with one gone in the sixth, took third on Mazeroski’s single and showed the fans how to run the bases after Manny Mota bounced to Harrison. Bateman had the ball to tag Clemente but Clemente waited until Bateman made his move, then jumped over him and touched home plate with his hand."

"In July 1971, just before his thirty-eighth birthday, he made what may have been the most spectacular catch in the history of right field. In the eighth inning, with the Pirates ahead 1-0 in a crucial game, two out and a man on base [i.e. , shortly before being traded to the Reds], Houston’s , a right-handed hitter, sliced a vicious shot into the corner. Clemente ate up a great stretch of turf with his back to the ball, leapt with a half-twist in full flight, made a one-hand catch above the Astrodome’s yellow home-run line, and in a fully extended, leaping-stab posture hit the wall wide open. He didn’t feel for the wall, he ignored the wall, and WHAM. When he got up, the left or glove side of his body was swelling, bleeding, and bruised at, respectively, the elbow, knee, and ankle; and the game was saved. That's one reason Clemente was always hurting: he was always so brave in the field. Men in their late thirties just don't make sliding-on-the- stomach catches, skidding-on-one-hip catches, on a regular basis."

"In the 9-5 clincher, Clemente won the game four different times. In addition to delivering two two-run singles that ultimately represented Pittsburgh’s margin of victory, Roberto made two of the key plays in the game, one in the field and one on the bases. With San Franciscans on first and second in the top of the first inning, and one Giant runner already home, lined a single to right. Clemente charged fast and threw hard and low to the plate. , not a slow man, stopped at third. He never scored. In the bottom of the inning, Roberto’s first two-run single gave the Pirates a short-lived lead. In the sixth, again with two out, Clemente sent the Pirates ahead with a base hit. He promptly proceeded to wrap up the contest when he advanced to second on a short passed ball by Dietz, the kind most players wouldn’t have dared run on. This maneuver made it necessary for the Giants to intentionally walk , whereupon the next batter, , delivered a three-run homer. Clemente later revealed why he risked going on the pitch that had gotten away from Dietz. “An intentional walk to Willie was the best thing that could have happened to us,” he said. “He wasn’t hitting and Oliver has been our hottest hitter."

"Retired Cub broadcaster Jack Brickhouse, who saw this home run [hit by Dave Kingman on May 17, 1979], revealed that the ball was greatly helped by a strong wind of 35 miles per hour. Brickhouse estimated Kingman's blast in reality went about 500 feet. In fact, Brickhouse stated Kingman's drive was not the longest ball he had ever seen. A 500-foot blast by the late Roberto Clemente remains the hardest hit ball Brickhouse has seen which was unaided by the wind."

"Clemente's was the longest I ever saw at Wrigley; longer than Kingman's. That's the one I'll always remember."

"Mays celebrated his 29th birthday last night with his first Candlestick home run and there was a banner crowd of 36,592 on hand to cheer him on. Willie long ago realized there was no percentage in hitting to left against the prevailing winds. He has consistently aimed for the opposite field and last night he made it, just barely because the ball bounced off the top rung of the fence but it was a solidly hit ball that traveled about 370 feet. He smashed an even longer one to right center earlier but Roberto Clemente got under that one. The only reason Clemente couldn't snare the homer was that he couldn't scale the fence. He tried, though. [...] Jones, in rare form, had a three hitter. It was a shutout when Clemente powered a home run against the wind over the 397-foot mark in left field. The Puerto Rican fly chaser seems to have found a new set of muscles. Already he has six home runs, only one less than his previous high for a full season. He also is tied with McCovey in runs batted in with 23."

"Roberto Clemente is to me what John Wayne is to Western movies or any tremendous attraction. Every time we broadcast a game in which he plays, we get our biggest audience. I don't know about the other players, but he's the king."

"In later years, there would be people who would say that Roberto was a hypochondriac. They could have been right, but if they were, it made the things he did even more remarkable. Because I can testify that I saw him throw his body into outfield fences, teeth first, to make remarkable plays. If he thought he was hurt at the time, then the act was even more courageous."

"Roberto Clemente looks like a bad hitter until the bat strikes the ball."

"You are going to a town where the best player in baseball is, but nobody knows it."

"Baseball survives because guys like Clemente still play it."

"Max says Chico is a faster runner than Roberto Clemente, the Royals' youthful outfielder, though he doesn't look it, maybe because he's a smoother runner. But what about Clemente? He has enough power to hit the ball out of most parks, though he still chases the curve. He has come up with a number of circus catches and he has a rifle arm, though it isn't always accurate. There isn't any doubt about his ability to run."

"Then there was the bomb hit by Roberto Clemente, Sosa's idol, in the ninth inning of the second game of a doubleheader on May 17, 1959. The missile left the ballpark to the left of the Wrigley Field scoreboard, landing in a gas station across the street."

"Roberto Clemente has switched from pop-off-pills to pep up pills. The Pittsburgh Pirates have switched, too. They've abandoned the National League's Battle of the Bottom and instead have declared war on the rest of the league. The Pirates, with Clemente at the front of the attack, extended their winning streak to 10 games Sunday by clobbering the New York Mets, 9-1 and 12-0. [...] Manager Harry Walker attributes the change to several factors, Clemente among them. It was only earlier this month that the league's defending batting champion was quoted as saying: "I want to be traded from this club, and I don't want to play for this manager any more." Clemente thought differently soon afterward and now is doing a lot of playing for Walker. He's also taking a lot of pep pills to combat the weakness that remains from the malaria attack he suffered during the winter. The illness kept him away from most of spring training and still has him at less-than-playing weight. The pills apparently are working. During the winning streak, the 30-year-old right fielder is hitting .458 and has raised his season's average to .308. In the New York series he rapped 11 hits in 19 trips to the plate."

"I first visited the place June 27 [1971] for a doubleheader between the exceedingly fearsome Pirates and the exceedingly awful Phillies. Willie Stargell, who two nights before had homered into section 601, located approximately in Delaware, was in the middle of a 48-homer summer. In those earliest years, there was an enormous mock mounted on the facing of the upper deck in dead center, maybe 40 feet above and behind the fence, which was and is 408 feet from the plate. Roberto Clemente lined a homer off that bell that afternoon, which was, pretty clearly, unforgettable."

"Clemente's game winner yesterday puts the upper deck in center field within reach for sluggers in the league who hit the ball for more distance than the great Pirate Veteran. Clemente' shot off rattled off the backdrop just below Philadelphia Phil."

"Only recently, he speared a long line drive one-handed and ran face first into Forbes Field's right field wall, knocking himself unconscious. As memorable as that catch may be to the fans who saw it, it could not compare with one he made back in the 1954 season at Montreal. He was playing left field then, and the left field fence was made of wire. A batter smashed a mighty drive that appeared certain to clear the fence. It did, but Roberto lunged over the fence and speared the ball with his glove as it dropped over. There was only one difficulty. Roberto was hung up on the fence. He lay atop it on his belly, his face and arms in home run territory and his legs and feet in outfield territory. The fans in the outfield bleachers went to his rescue and after considerable lifting and tugging, finally extricated him, dumping him back into the outfield."

"In the age of power, the fact that Clemente has never hit more than 23 home runs (and has never driven in more than 94 runs) weighs heavily against his prestige. There is no doubting that his muscular arms and outsize hands are capable of power, for one of his home runs – a shot over ’s left-center bleachers – stands as one of the longest smashes ever hit out of the Cub ball park.1 Yet because he plays half his schedule in spacious Forbes Field, where the man who guns for home runs undergoes traumatic revelations of inadequacy, Roberto wisely has tailored his style to the line drive and the hard ground ball hit through the hole. Thus he hit only ten home runs last year, but he is certain he can hit 20 home runs any season he pleases, Forbes Field notwithstanding. “If I make up my mind, I’m going to hit 20 homers this year,” he bellows with indignation. “I bet you any amount of money I can hit 20.” A change of style would do the trick, he claims, but what sort of change? Ah, Roberto becomes tight-lipped. He is one of baseball’s most sinister practitioners of intrigue. “Nothing,” he replies. “A little change in the hands, that’s all. I don’t want to tell you what it is.""

"If Roberto Clemente were named Ernie Banks, the Giants would have defeated the Pirates last night. San Francisco manager said recently that he would walk Banks with the bases loaded in a late inning provided the Giants had at least a two-run lead at the time. But "my name is not Banks," said Clemente gleefully as he stroked a 2-and-2 pitch out of the ball park for the eighth-inning grand slam homer that overcame a three-run Giant lead and set up a 6-to-4 Pittsburgh victory. The crowd of 23,177 was horrified. Therein one fell swipe of the unprincipled Clemente bat, which has been subjecting the San Francisco corps to ruin all season long, went the brightest opportunity the Giants have had in a month..."

"8 : "Clemente Slam—Ouch!; Pirates Clip SF by 6–4," San Francisco Examiner (Saturday, July 15, 1961), p. 35"

"Then the scene moves to for what proves to be the imaginative highlight of the program. While "" gets the Bartók treatment, the empty stands, the bare field, the portraits of the Pirate members of the Baseball Hall of Fame move slowly across the screen. In a few moments, the music—still the same tune—goes into an up tempo as the crowds file in and, oh, delightful moment, Roberto Clemente belts one over the right center field wall."

"It seems from this corner that the Pirates are fortunate they have Clemente on their side. And just think he almost got away. The Yankees used as bait after the 1962 season. Maris, baseball's record home run hitter for one season, would have seemed a good catch. If Bucs' GM Joe Brown had gone by RBI statistics after the '62 season he would have jumped at a Maris-for-Clemente swap. Maris had knocked in 100—26 more than Clemente drove home. Shudder for a moment, Pirate fans, and just imagine where this year's Buccos would be in the standings if they had Maris instead of Clemente."

"Roberto Clemente crashed a two-run homer in the seventh and it was a smasheroo. Clemente's drive, off Bill "No-Hit" Stoneman, carried well over the wall in center field. Few right-handed batters have hit a ball out of the park in this sector, which is to the right of dead center between the exit gate and the light stanchion."

"If they ever want to rate the 10 greatest catches of all time, Roberto Clemente’s fantastic catch of ’s line drive in Houston’s on June 15 will have to be among them. Houston manager called it the greatest catch he has ever seen. Pirates’ second baseman rates it equal to any catch Clemente ever has made. "It was a lot like the one Clemente made in 1960 against Willie Mays," said Maz. In the 1960 catch, Clemente crashed into the right field wall at Forbes Field and suffered a gash on his chin which required seven stitches. Clemente isn’t sure which catch is his best. Most of the 16,307 fans in the Astrodome felt it was the best catch they had ever seen. They gave Clemente a standing ovation for his feat, which deprived Watson of a home run which would have put the Astros ahead, 2-1. Instead, held a 1-0 lead and the Bucs, after Clemente’s eighth-inning catch, scored twice in the ninth for a 3-0 win. Here was the setting for Clemente’s heroics: Joe Morgan was on first base with two out. The second out had been recorded when Clemente made a sliding grab of ’s hump-back liner in short right. Watson, a right-handed hitter, followed with a vicious liner toward the right field corner. Clemente, going full speed, raced toward the wall and, in one sudden move, made a twisting leap for a one-handed grab, back to the plate, just before the ball would have hit above the yellow line on the wall, which is home run territory. When Clemente came down, his body hit the wall. He suffered a bruised left ankle and his left elbow also was swollen. Blood spilled from a gash on the left knee. Clemente slumped on both knees, back to the infield. The Houston fans stood up and cheered. After Blass hurled a scoreless ninth for his fourth shutout, he said: "This shutout belongs to Clemente.""

"Then there's the story about The Throw, which happened in the late 60’s at Forbes Field. Clemente made the most remarkable throw I ever saw … and he got an error on the play! The Bucs were playing the Cardinals, it was one of the middle innings and the Cards had runners on first and third. I don’t recall the runner on third, but was on first. I believe singled to right, and the runner on third scores. Cepeda is about to stop at second, but the ball rolls through Clemente’s legs, and Cepeda takes third (reason for the error being charged to Clemente). The ball rolled to the warning track in right (not close to the foul line), and Clemente picks up the ball with his back to the plate. He whirls and throws a no-bounce strike to at home plate and Cepeda is out trying to score. After the play, I looked around the press box to find the oldest baseball observer there. Leo Ward, the traveling secretary of the Cards, had been watching baseball since the teens. His quote: "If I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t believe it.""

"In the matter of home runs, it is evident by now that the Coliseum right-field fence was moved closer to the plate [this season], despite the wails and doubts of some long-ball blasters. In 10 games, five round-trippers were hit to right – by , , , Bill Cunningham and . That’s an average of one every two games. Last year, right-field homers were hit on an average of every 2.75 games – 28 in 77 games, to be exact. The Dodgers hammered 18: Duke Snider (7), John Roseboro (3), (3), and one apiece by Willie Davis, , , and . Visiting athletes connected 10 times: and Billy Williams (twice each), and , , Roberto Clemente, , Bill White and ."

"Pittsburgh’s exciting right fielder, Roberto Clemente, waged a one-man war against Los Angeles with a spectacular display of throwing and batting. The fiery Puerto Rican smacked a triple, double and single to keep Koufax in hot water, but it was his arm that captured the fans’ fancy and left two baserunners for dead. ended a promising scoring spree in the second inning when Clemente’s strike to Ducky Schofield nailed him as he tried to scramble back to second base. When ’s triple eluded Clemente in the seventh, he retrieved the ball and threw it on the fly from the warning track to home plate. And then Roberto took ’s game-winning sacrifice fly and pegged another shot to the plate that nearly nipped Fairly. The next batter, Willie Davis, challenged Clemente’s arm by trying to stretch a single. He was out at second by a couple of lengths. Not since their own was in his prime have the Dodgers seen such a display of throwing as Clemente’s."

"Koufax also was bombed for one of the longest home runs in Forbes Field annals, which hark back to 1909. In the third inning, with a 1-and-2 count on him, Señor Clemente touched off a moon shot that struck high on a light tower in center field, some 450 ft. from the plate. Had it missed the tower, it certainly would have sailed at least 500 ft."

"The Pirates played long ball with Sandy Koufax Saturday, and they really hit some shots. The trouble was, they didn’t hit ’em in sequence. The result was a 4-1 Dodger victory, only Bob Clemente’s ninth-inning home run spoiling Sandy’s bid for his 36th career shutout. Despite nine strikeouts which raised his lifetime total to 2,134 in 2,057 innings, Koufax was the first to agree that he was not on his stick this time. mauled him for a couple of two-baggers, smashed a 455-foot triple, and chipped in with a double. And but for Ron Fairly’s backhanded catch of Clemente’s drive in the sixth inning and a spectacular running catch of Clendenon’s 350-foot wallop by Willie Davis in the ninth, Koufax would have been in deep trouble. Koufax didn’t begin his strikeout routine until he got {w|Willie Stargell}} and in the third inning. From then on, Sandy had at least one whiff in every inning. One of the few people who wasn’t fooled by Sandy’s slants was Clemente, who at .325 is making a strong bid for his third consecutive league batting crown. “I’m hitting the ball good,” said the temperamental Pirate star. “I feel strong.” He certainly looked robust when he tied into an outside pitch and sent it into the upper deck in right field. Fairly didn’t even move, it was so solidly hit."

"The Dodgers, who came to town Monday in first place, dropped back down to the ‘show’ spot in the National League race Wednesday night when a former Brooklyn farmhand, Roberto Clemente, beat them with one swish of his bat. Of course, Roberto had lots of help from , who struck out 11 in posting a 3-1 triumph, but it was Clemente’s two-run homer off in Round 1 which decided the contest before 21,952 spectators. Clemente, who is battling teammate for the league batting crown, which he has already won three times, including the last two in a row, lost ground to Alou. While Clemente was 1-for-4 to drop a point to .331, Alou went 3-for-4 to jump five notches to .342. However, Clemente is enjoying another big year against the Dodgers. For 12 games, he is hitting at a .360 clip as compared to his .347 mauling of the L.A. staff last season. Clemente’s 17th homer came with one out after Alou got one of his typical hits - an infield bouncer which he easily legged out. Although a right-hand hitter, Clemente more often than not gets his hits in the opposite field, and his latest blockbuster was no exception. It landed high in the right field second deck. “I try to go to right field most of the time because the pitchers pitch me outside,” said Roberto. “Sutton throws me a fastball low and outside, so I go after it, although I didn’t know it was going to go that far. But I can go the other way if I get my pitch. Maybe you remember the ball I hit into the left field light tower here against the Dodgers a few years ago. It went out pretty good.” We remembered very well that it went out just like he said it did."

"Clemente gives equal credit to javelin throwing and his mother for his unmatched arm, the most deadly since of the Dodgers was gunning down unwary baserunners. It was also his mother who once threatened to burn Roberto’s bat as punishment because he was so preoccupied with baseball at times that he wouldn’t eat his black beans and rice. But she didn’t burn it, after all, an act of compassion for which the pitchers’ union never will forgive her, and Roberto eventually became a $100,000-a-year slugger – perhaps the best hitter in the game today. captured the American League’s triple crown last season and the lifetime averages of Aaron (.317) and Oliva (.318) topped Clemente’s .310 career mark. But for sheer consistency since this decade began, none has even approached Clemente’s accomplishments. Clemente won batting championships in 1961-64-65 and looks like a shoo-in again at the rate he is going. He is the only player in either league who has hit above .300 every year since 1960. His seasonal marks of .314, .351, .312, .320, .339, .329 and .317 average out at .326. Aaron batted above .300 in five of the last seven campaigns while averaging .301. While topping .300 in four of the last seven seasons, Robinson averaged a modest .290 for that span. The only lifetime .300 hitters in the American League are Oliva (.318), Mickey Mantle (.305), (.304) and Robinson (.304), and they aren’t remotely close to Clemente for consistent base hit production since he shifted into high gear seven years ago. Clemente, a compact 175-pounder who can go the late one better by hitting with both feet in the bucket, gives no indication of slowing down, although he will be 33 on Aug. 18. Not, that is, unless his mother impulsively uses his Louisville Slugger for kindling wood. And that’s not about to happen when her son earns as much money as the President of the United States."

"Roberto Clemente, a Puerto Rican, drafted from the Brooklyn chain, is only 20, but he can run, throw and smack for distance."

"Here is the greatest player in baseball today. He was the starting right fielder for the National League in the All-Star Game last year."

"Finally Jones came in with a blinding fastball, the way Sad Sam [sic]1 used to throw ’em, and Clemente unloaded. The wind was blowing in from left field that day, and blowing hard. This was 1960, remember, before the fences had been moved in, and nobody was hitting home runs at Candlestick. Not Mays, not Cepeda, not anybody.2 Clemente’s bat hit the ball, and the result absolutely clubbed the crowd into awed silence for a long moment. Right into that wet whipping wind the ball carried. Right on through, hit 120 feet high in a long soaring majestic parabola that came down finally over 450 feet away. There is just no way of telling how far Clemente’s home run blast would have traveled had it not been for that wind. Suffice it to say partisan Giant fans suddenly broke their shell-shocked silence and let loose a gigantic roar. For two innings the stadium buzzed. For days the Giants talked about it. Even today if you slip up behind a Giant pitcher and suddenly whisper in his ear: "Remember the home run Clemente hit?" he’s likely to jump as high as if he’d been caught putting spit on baseballs."

"In 1953, Roberto Clemente tossed away the heavy bat he’d been using, and went to a lighter model. Styles in bats change nearly as much as styles in women’s skirts. Bats have been thick-handled and thin-handled, bottle-shaped and straight, long and short, heavy and light. In the days of Babe Ruth and before Ruth, home run champion , 50-ounce bats were not unique. Today, they do not exist, nor do 40-ounce clubs, and the 32- and 33-ounce bats prevail. Sluggers today whip their light bats the way lion tamers slash away in a den of spitting cats. The secret in hitting home runs today is getting the bat around on the ball, and whiplashing it. With a lighter bat, you come around more quickly, and with a thin handle you catapult the meaty end of the bat against the ball. While at Santurce, Clemente noted that some of his teammates had switched to lighter weapons, and the ball suddenly had started to go out of sight. Ernie Banks would become a tremendous home run hitter in the National League because he shifted to a lighter bat. Hitters are a proud lot. They measure the distance of their blows the way anglers weigh their tarpon. Clemente, too, wanted to see baseballs disappear over the most remote fence. He picked up a new light bat, he swung from his heels, and POP! No, not the ball – his back. Out it flew, and the man who had entered the International League in the spring of 1954 was simply another human being with an aching back."

"There was a book that came out in the late ’60s called Baseball’s Greatest Players Today. Clemente is not in the book. Not in the book. It’s ludicrous. Just ludicrous."

"Clemente’s homer – his second in two nights – was a prodigious wallop of some 430 feet that landed about 12 rows up in the steps to the right of the service ramp in center field. In addition to loosening a few boards and frightening small children, it also tied the score at 3-all. was aboard with a walk when Ray tried to fling one pitch too many past the dangerous Clemente. Clemente saw the ball good and he sped up his swing and timed the connection perfectly. Wynn, in center, gave token pursuit of the eighth blast this year off the 34-year-old Puerto Rican hero’s bat. But he’d have needed a ladder to reach the blast which soared far over Wynn’s head."

"Brosnan made one pitch, high and inside. Clemente drove it against the light standard in left field. Jim King had backed up to make the catch but it was over his head. The ball bounced off the slanted side of the fencing and rolled along the cinder path to center field. Here came Foiles, Virdon and then Cole, heading home and making it easily. Then came Clemente into third. Bragan had his hands upstretched to hold up his outfielder. The relay was coming in from . But around third came Clemente and down the home path. He made it just in front of the relay from Ernie Banks. He slid, missed the plate, then reached back to rest his hand on the rubber with the ninth run in a 9 - 8 victory as the crowd of 12,431 went goofy with excitement."

"Maranda had two out in the first inning when singled, doubled and Clemente slugged one over the fence in left center. They say here it was the hardest hit ball in 's windswept history."

"Sam, who had it all—a crackling curve and a fastball with a tail on it—had a two hitter going into the seventh. Then Clemente tied into a fastball and belted it into what is almost considered never never land. [...] Clemente clobbered it through the wind and beyond the 397-foot marker in left-center. [...] Only the fourth ball hit over the left field fence, it put Clemente back into a tie with McCovey for the RBI leadership. Each has 23."

"There will be only two thing people will remember about pennant-winning Pittsburgh's final appearance in yesterday. Roberto Clemente clobbered a history-making homer, a three-run first-inning shot to pace the Pirates to a 6–1 victory and a sweep of the two-game series with the Giants. [...] Clemente's 13th homer was a screaming shot over the left-center fence that banged against the green wall of the stands. A 400-footer plus, it could have been the hardest hit HR in the new park."

"I met Roberto Clemente once, after the , which he dominated with his bat, his throwing arm, his fielding, and with his presence. After the Pirates won that Series from the Orioles, Clemente flew to New York City, where the editors of a magazine had a new car to present him. The day wheeled about a luncheon in Leone's Restaurant, where a wearying procession of speakers led into a Purto Rican official, who was supposed to introduce Roberto but instead rambled on boozily for 20 minutes. When at length the man finished, Clemente strode to the microphone, and suddenly the low comedy was done. "I am 37 years old," Clemente said, "and this is the first time I have ever been asked to speak in New York." He spoke on, movingly, beautifully, about his island, his family, about his game. Someone at my table commented, "We are listening to an overflowing heart." That vibrant heart was stopped 26 months later when a time-worn DC-7 shattered in the Caribbean Sea. Clemente had organized the flight to bring food, anesthetics, sugar, and tracheotomy tubes to the broken city of Managua, Nicaragua."

"A reliever strikes out Mays, McCovey, Howard, and Clemente tonight. Believe it or not, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Frank Howard, Roberto Clemente play in the same game—and get struck out—on the first annual "All-Star Celebrity Softball" special. The reliever is , known as "King of Softball" after 22 years as pitcher in the sport throughout the United States and Canada."

"I remember watching you play. When you ran for a fly ball it was like you traveled three feet above the grass, your feet never touching. "He has invisible pillows of angel hair attached to his feet," my wife said one night, "that's how he glides across the outfield.""

"Clemente, himself, is one of the most powerful hitters in baseball. The Pirates still talk about the line-drive home run he hit this May in San Francisco's . And they still talk about the homer he belted at Wrigley Field last season—the ball traveled about 500 feet and said it was the longest drive he had ever seen."

"Here's that Clemente swing once again. Look at that bat stay back; cocked. Now, a trademark: hitting off the front foot! Look at that right foot, the rear foot, a foot off the ground—something that is not advisable as a hitter, but don't tell that to Clemente, or Hank Aaron."

"Tony Kubek, the Game of the Week broadcaster for NBC, also thinks it's entirely too early to be chiseling out Clemente's obituary. "He's remarkable," says Tony. "You can’t lope to first base on a right field single with Roberto out there. He’s liable to catch you napping at first with one of those patented throws of his—or at least he’ll try.""

"During 's final season, Kubek said during an interview in Detroit that Kaline's 3,000 hits were marred by the fact that in his last year he was a . "I said I was more impressed with Roberto Clemente because he played every day," Kubek recalled. All heck broke loose, with Detroit fans tearing into Kubek for his supposed slight of their veteran hero. In classic Kubek style, he refused to trim his views for the audience. There is no more constant on-air critic of the DH rule than Kubek, which has brought criticism of him in turn from American League owners who feel that the broadcaster exceeds his role. "But the DH rule is so dumb," Kubek said all over again. "Don't the American League owners wonder why pitchers like Palmer, Ryan, Hunter and Guidry develop arm trouble? Because of the DH rule, they have to pitch too many stressful late-game innings.""

"Roberto Clemente was one Pirate who made a lasting impression on me when I first saw him cover the ground in right field in Forbes Field. He could chase down and catch balls in right center that seemed impossible to catch."

"New York Times columnist Arthur Daley, approaching "A to Z" during the series stay in Flatbush, said: "Here's a line I dare not use for obvious reasons. I'll pass it along for you to do with as you please. In their last series in Milwaukee, the Pittsburgh Pirate players were complaining about the way they were plagued and bitten by mosquitoes during the final night game of the season. Someone asked Roberto Clemente why he hadn't been bothered by the pests, and the Puerto Rican outfielder replied: 'Hell, I guess they couldn't see me.'" It was, A to Z thought, one of the best cracks since the wiseacre in the stands at St. Louis yelled, in the midst of a Cardinal belting of : "Somebody call the NAACP.""

"Colored ball players in New York for last week's Major League All-Star Game, looked as though they had all just stepped out of a men's fashion ad in one of the top fashion magazines. Attired in attractive, conservative clothing and shoes the 15 tan athletes totaled $2,000 or more in suits, shirts and footwear alone. As he stepped out his Roosevelt Hotel quarters, Willie Mays was dressed in natty blue olive suit, white custom-fit shirt and deep blood shoes. A dark green suit, gold tie on white shirt donned the well-proportioned frame of Roberto Clemente as he and grey-suited Billy Williams paused to sign autographs in front of the Commodore Hotel where they stayed."

"If Roberto "Momen" Clemente had hit 's World Series-winning homer against the Yankees in '60, it would have been "A Momen to Remember.""

"Clemente, the two-time batting champion who has amazing power to all fields but only once has hit as many as 20 homers in one season, reached out for a 1-0 pitch with two out in the third and hammered it far over the right field wall for his 11th homer."

"Roberto Clemente of the Pittsburgh Pirates made the greatest catch in the history of the and as good a catch as he has ever made in his 17-year career to save ’ 3-0 shutout over the Houston Astros Tuesday night. Clemente, possibly the best defensive right fielder in baseball history, made two extraordinary catches in the eighth inning with the speedy on first base, one out and the Pirates leading, 1-0. hit a sharp liner to short right field and Clemente dashed in to make a sliding catch inches above the grass. “I lost the ball in the lights but I had to keep charging in,” Clemente said later. “I started sliding and I saw it again.” Then Clemente was playing in the same spot in medium deep right center when cracked a liner toward the right field corner. Most right fielders would have played it off the wall and Morgan would have scored the tying run, but the 36-year-old took off after the ball. He caught up with it at the ball, leaped high and caught it as he crashed into the boards at full speed. He said it was above the yellow home run line which runs across the wall ten feet above the ground. A homer would have put Houston ahead 2-1. “I don’t even think I could get the ball, but I had to try and I jump,” Clemente said. Houston manager , who has been in baseball 54 years, and coach Buddy Hanken, who has been in baseball 36 years, both said it was the greatest catch they had ever seen."

"Official Pittsburgh Pirate releases reveal that their brash hitting star Roberto Walker Clemente [sic] was given the nickname "Momen" by a cousin for no particular reason. There isn't even a definition listed. However, if early returns are any indication the name is sure to have a meaning shortly. Roberto is likely to knock in "mo men" this season than any other major league batter."

"If Brooks Robinson is the definitive third baseman for all time, then Clemente is the definitive right fielder. He may, in fact, be the greatest outfielder, period, although he makes no such claim. But in any list of the ten greatest catches I've ever seen, Clemente has probably made about six of them."

"Roberto does not hit many home runs. His best season in that regard was 1966 when he had 29. This year he had only 13. But he has power. In Wrigley Field I've seen him hit the ball as far out of the park as anyone and I've seen it often. He has, however, spent the majority of his career in old Forbes Field, where a right-handed pull hitter is going to have more long fly outs than home runs. He decided long ago to go with the pitch and hit for average."

"Well, Buzz old boy, there are a few things for which the 11,089 cash clients in would like to say “thanks.” They thank you for Roberto Clemente, the Puerto Rican kid who should be a very popular player here. He runs well and yesterday he went three-for-four with his salary stick. They call him Momen and I don’t know why."

"The man getting on the tram outside the park was Harry Simmons of the International League office. The Royals had won two games from the Havana Sugar Kings 7-6 and 4-1. Homeward bound, the 4,252 customers were satisfied, chatty and cheerful. "They have a new idol, a new star,” Harry Simmons said. “Roberto Clemente.” No truer words were spoken on the weekend. Clemente’s clout over the left field wall yesterday, his first homer of the campaign, won the opening game, Hollywood style in the tenth inning. Clemente is a player with potential greatness. He is what they call “showboat” in diamond dialect. But yesterday he delivered in very surprising style, indeed. At the start of the season said that he didn’t expect Clemente to prove much help to the club. He was too young and inexperienced, the manager had said. It was noted, though, that yesterday Macon sent the colored speedboy back into the second game. He smashed a double on his first try in that event. The rain-defying throng hooted derisively when they walked him intentionally on his next trip."

"Roberto Clemente, the outfielder, is one of the Royal’s bonus babies. According to baseball regulations he must be carried by the club throughout the campaign. That, perhaps, is the only reason Clemente has remained on the payroll. Not yet 20 years old, Roberto normally would have been sent out for seasoning. But lately he has been proving that he can play in Triple-A company. Last night in Toronto, for instance, he helped plenty when the Royals shaded the cousinly Maple Leafs 8-7. Clemente tripled and singled. When the Leafs threatened to send the contest into a knot, Clemente threw Connie Johnson out at the plate from right field."

"Clemente has impressed the scouts who have looked at the Royals. They regard him as an exceptionally promising young player. At the start of the season Macon said he didn’t expect Clemente to help very much. “He’s too inexperienced but we’ve got to keep him,” the manager said. Not long ago Clemente won an extra-inning contest for the Royals here with a home run over the left field fence. Few players have achieved that feat at ."

"Billy Harris, the pride of the Maritimes, was expected to be “the story” of Sunday’s second game between the Royals and Syracuse Chiefs. Instead, the hit-guy proved to be Roberto Clemente. Roberto’s home run, his second of the season, gave the Royals a 4-3 decision and their third straight over the Chiefs. [...] pitched the last inning for the Royals and took his 18th win of the year on the Clemente clout off ."

"I cannot accept the theory that a hard punch couldn't be delivered from Clay's stance, though it is obviously better to have a solid base, but there are athletes in every sport who do things they aren't supposed to. You can only judge them on results. One classic example is Roberto Clemente of the Pirates. Professionals don't understand how he can hit with his rear end flying into the third base dugout. Yet he has been the most consistent hitter in baseball over a period of five years, and no one hits the ball as hard as often ... Orthodox or unorthodox, an athlete's power generally is generated by timing and strength, and the strength being in the forearms and hands, not the legs and feet, unless he's a punter or a high jumper."

"People who didn’t see him play look at the stats and say, ‘Well, he didn’t hit 500 homers, and he didn’t do this or do that.’ But again, if you hear the players who played against him, you realize the kind of respect they have for him. Willie Mays always said that for him, Roberto Clemente was the greatest all-around player he played against."

"It has been a foregone conclusion for most of his career that Old Aches and Pains from Puerto Rico, Roberto Clemente, the best player in the game who has never won the Most Valuable Player Award, had to have one foot in Mayo Clinic before he could make a shambles of National League pitching. Moreover, Roberto has to feel he is unloved, unappreciated. Roberto, who plays right field as if he invented it, never won a Gold Glove until the voting was taken out of the hands of the Reporter|writers. That he has never won an MVP is as big a crime as if [[Spencer Tracy had never won an Oscar. But, over the years, Roberto had to get an assist from nature. He had to have a virus, a mysterious tropical disease, trichinosis, his foot cut in a lawn mower. He has such a trick back, he can play it for you like a xylophone. He reported to camp 15 pounds underweight from a bout with malaria (or maybe it was typhoid that year – he’s had both) and he had to take aspirin all year just to win the batting championship (which he's done three times). People just thought he was a hypochondriac – partly because people with a fever of 102 do not normally bat .339. He was the Oscar Levant of baseball, the Sick Man of America. He complained about everything but amnesia. He skipped batting practice because he said hitting made him ‘tired.’ Not as tired as it made the pitchers – or the other outfielders – in the game."

"Playing baseball, Roberto Clemente conjured a vision of some African prince standing waste-deep in the surf and brandishing a spear at a retreating slave ship. Majestic. Indomitable. Perhaps his loss sounded the first real death knell over the game in this city. Without him, pennant races or no, its excitement has somehow waned. Others make diving catches; he made them one-handed, sliding across the field on his rear end, or at his knees, so self-assuredly that to see him do it a thousand times was to be certain he would not drop even one. Others deftly retrieve baseballs from the outfield walls; he snatched barehanded and flung them back like so many arrows. Others swing hard; he swung as mad suicides leap from cliffs. And all of these things he did effortlessly, no strain to muddy the esthetics of his skills; no caution to soil his craft. In time, most have forgotten his injuries and his battles with the press and the pride that drove him, and even that he died in an airplane trying to help people who needed it desperately. What has been remembered, and will be, is this: For a generation, no one played the game of baseball with more dignity or grace, and that when Roberto Clemente died, the people of an island and a city were truly saddened. A stamp in his honor could not be more fitting. I'd like to be there in that sleepy town tomorrow morning to get the very first one."

"The case of Clemente and the city of Pittsburgh has indeed been strange. A favorite with Bucco fans, the fiery outfielder from Puerto Rico has, on numerous occasions, been described as the “forgotten man” of the city’s daily press. This characterization has indeed been odd since the records so clearly reveal that Clemente was one of the most respected members of the Pirates in ability ... at least as far as the rest of the players in the league were concerned. During the summer the pattern of the “let’s forget Clemente” movement seemed to gain momentum as it became apparent to the baseball world that the Pirates would probably win their first National League championship in 35 years. Suddenly, almost as an afterthought, the Pirates became a club that could never have made it to the hill without Captain Dick Groat, shortstop. The pattern continued through the World Series. The propaganda became so obvious that more than one major league ball player told this writer: “Clemente doesn’t stand a chance of winning the ‘Most Valuable Player Award’ with all the press agents Groat has going for him in Pittsburgh." As things turned out those words of prophecy proved accurate. Dick Groat was voted the National League’s “Most Valuable Player” and has been basking in baseball’s limelight since."

"The case of Clemente came to mind again last week when the Pirates had announced they had signed the 26-year-old star to his 1961 contract. Before the World Series Roberto told the writer: “Unless I get what I want in salary I won't play for this club no more.” After the series, in which Clemente was the only player to hit safely in all seven games, he revealed: “I talk to General Manager Joe Brown and he tell me they pay me what I want. Everything is hokay now.” So, even though Clemente was the one big man of the Pirates who missed out on so many of the honors that befell his teammates, he was compensated somewhat with a big salary boost. The guess here is he'll receive between $33,000 and $35,000. Maybe that is why Roberto, a sensitive guy who tries to hide his true feelings behind a sharp tongue, says: “Just so long as they pay me what I want, to hell with everything else.”"

"They seem to have a new star coming up in Roberto Clemente, the Puerto Rican fielder. He had three singles, bunted in smart style, caught on with the fans, and was complimented by Macon at the end of the game. Which was an illustrious introduction for the colored boy."

"At , the fine new training headquarters of the Pittsburgh club, one may see [, among others,] Roberto Walker Clemente, a teammate of Willie Mays in the Puerto Rican League, who has copied Mays' method of catching the ball against his navel but, alackaday, not his batting."

"One more Puerto Rican, who happened to be the four-time National League batting champion, arrived in New York this weekend and today he left 41,323 Mets fans in anguish in Shea Stadium. Roberto Clemente also left the Mets to wonder if they had a future in the National League pennant race. Just before game time, Clemente reinstated himself in the Pittsburgh lineup after missing their last 11 games with a lame back and in the third inning he struck. He whacked a long and loud two-bagger off the left-center-field wall. That did it, for the Pirates, and to the Mets, in a 2-to-1 ball game. Both Pittsburgh runs were wrapped around Clemente's swat off Gary Gentry. It drove in Matty Alou, who was on second base after a single, and Clemente himself scored when Willie Stargell elected to get the 1,000th hit of his career in that spot, a single."

"The Pirates have managed to stay up there partly because of and sometimes despite Roberto Clemente, their best hitter and, when healthy, their best ball player. But Clemente does not play all the time. Some days he says he does not feel well, and he is known to have a back condition at this time. Actually, the Pirates have a slightly better winning percentage without their best athlete in the 51 games he has missed than they do when he has played. The old Orioles, those legends famed for playing hurt, may not have understood Clemente today. The Pirates never faced a more important doubleheader than the one with the Mets today. They lost the first game, and Clemente benched himself in the second. This could have been the choice of an ailing man, but the trouble is Clemente has asked out of second games of doubleheaders when he was healthy, and when the next day was an off day. If there is one chap who is holding the Pirates together it is their man, Manny Sanguillen, who refuses to be substituted for in the position that is most substituted, catcher. Sanguillen is the rugged Panamanian who wants to play every day, gives the Pirates one of the league's better catching jobs, and is a leader. He also hits .320."

"Roberto Clemente's intention to demand a $200,000 salary next season may be startling to the Pittsburgh Pirates' ownership, but in all candor they must admit one truth: of all the baseball athletes, Clemente is the closest to being worth $200,000 a year."

"He soon perfected one technique that I’ve never seen another player do. A hard ground ball hit to the outfield on synthetic turf often gets through for extra bases. Roberto would run after the ball and, instead of trying to backhand it, and throw, Roberto would slide on his left side, his feet extended, just like he was sliding into a base. As soon as he’d intercepted the ball, he’d immediately pop back into a standing position and get rid of the ball. It was unbelievable! Oh, I’ve seen Roberto make so many plays I could talk about them forever. In old Forbes Field, the right-field line went down 300 feet and then angled out quickly. Billy White of the Cardinals once batted a ball over first base fair, it hit something, and skittered into the bullpen area behind the stands. White was already rounding second on his way to an easy triple. Roberto charged over from right field, slid into the gravel, grabbed the ball, kicked off the wall with his foot, and threw a perfect strike to third base. Roberto couldn’t even see third base when he threw – he was in behind the lower stands – but the ball zoomed over the pitcher’s mound and reached third on a fly. White was out by six or seven feet. Most remarkable throw I’ve ever seen him make."

"Perhaps the greatest play I’ve ever seen Roberto make was in Nicaragua, in 1964 or 1965, after San Juan won the title in the Caribbean Series. They had Clemente, Cepeda, Pizarro, Conde, Pagán – it was like an all-star team! [...] But during that series, Roberto made such a fantastic play that they nearly raised a monument in his honor out in right field. Ossie Echevarria, a Panamanian, one of the fastest men in baseball, was the runner on first base. A ball was hit to right-center, nearly by the wall. Normally, any runner would make it from first to third on such a hit, especially a guy like Echevarria. Clemente cut the ball off and threw it right into Wito Conde’s glove at third – that ball looked like a jet! The runner was tagged out, and every fan in the ballpark just stood there – mouth open in amazement. They’d seen plenty of top players over the years, but never had they seen a throw like that! Three innings later, the same situation: Echevarria on first, another hit. Roberto cut it off and fired to third. Echevarria was between second and third base. When he slammed on the brakes, it looks so funny, like a character in a Walt Disney cartoon! He threw himself headlong back to second base. Incredible! It was impossible to run against Roberto’s arm."

"He was a perfectionist, like a great artist in any field. When he got to a new park, he inspected every inch of right field to see if the ground was hard or soft, how high the grass was. He was a fanatic about his waistline. Once he told me, "I have a 32-inch waist always; when I’m a bit more, I’m no good." In the off-season, I’ve seen him go to a field in Carolina with a sack full of beer bottle caps. He’d get some kids to throw him the tiny caps and he’d spend hours – hours! – batting. Then, for exercise, he’d bend down and pick them all up. He said that when he was done hitting those tiny caps, a real ball looked as big as a coconut!"

"He happens to be nursing a troublesome left shoulder at the moment and this circumstance is sure to provoke some of his critics into saying there goes Clemente with another one of his imaginary ailments again. Clemente has no guilt complex or anything like that but he knows there are same people who are going to say that about him now because these same people have said the same thing before. They don't know his left shoulder hasn't been right since he ran into a wall in Florida chasing after a foul smash in a game against the Red Sox. Nine of 10 other outfielders wouldn't even try for it in a spring training contest. They also don't know Clemente took a cortisone shot in his shoulder Tuesday after rapping two hits against the Phillies, and that he has a huge lump atop his shoulder nearly the size of a baseball. But that's nothing new because there are some things most people don't even want to know."

"I say Roberto Clemente won that game for Pittsburgh. Simply by being Roberto Clemente and running out a ground ball the way he always has since the day he began playing ball 30 years ago. I had only one thought watching Clemente run down to first base. I wondered what Alex Johnson was thinking while watching the whole thing on TV."

"From a personal standpoint, I have known Clemente since he came up to the Pirates 17 years ago and the thing he did that impressed me most in the Series against the Orioles wasn't that he hit .414 or got off those excellent throws, but that he got up and chased the ball when he kicked it into distant left centerfield after falling down trying for a backhanded shoestringer on 's triple in the first game. "Swoboda would've had it!" said a newspaperman I know. Seriously, though, what impressed me so much about Clemente's get-up-and-go-after- it sequence is this was so typical of his performance. He'd do the same thing in the second game of a series with San Diego as he was doing now in the second game of a series with Baltimore."

"One more thing for the record: Babe Ruth was far and away the best ballplayer I have ever seen. Closest to him for home run hitting alone, in my book anyway, were Jimmy Foxx, Johnny Mize, and Harmon Killebrew. Hank Aaron would rate in my top half-dozen, along with Joe Dimaggio, Willie Mays, Stan Musial, and Roberto Clemente."

"What's this we hear about the Cubs, who detected a batting weakness of Willie Mays, also learning how to pitch to Roberto Clemente, the sensational outfielder of the Pirates? ... It is said that and Sam Jones, who played winter ball in Puerto Rico, not only got hep to Say Hey Willie, but it is more than a coincidence that Clemente has batted only .158 against the Cubs; in fact, he made only two hits in his last five games against them."

"Clemente could field the ball in New York and throw out a guy in Pennsylvania."

"The strongest memories I have of that last summer in Columbus center on the passionate identification I developed with the Pirates’ great rightfielder, Roberto Clemente. Clemente was flirting with a .400 average through the first half of the 1967 season, and getting the kind of national attention that he always craved. I watched him on TV whenever I could, and he was the first performer from whom I derived a satisfaction I would call aesthetic. He was a compact, elegant, laconic presence on the diamond, spare and geometric, with a sprinter’s legs. His fielding and throwing were legendary – even then he was recognized as one of the very best ever at his position. Among his peers, only Willie Mays, from whom he had picked up the famous basket catch when the two of them played winter ball in 1954 for Puerto Rico’s Santurce club, possessed a comparable grace and aplomb in the field. He didn’t have the marvelous Mays liquidity – everything about Clemente was angular and emphatic – but as with Mays, his movements left you with the impression that he lived outside his body and commanded it effortlessly from a great distance. He was a bad-ball hitter – about as far as you could get, in the realms of greatness, from a student of the art like Ted Williams or a street-smart opportunist like – and a fierce, feral protector of the plate. With two strikes on him, he could foul off ball after ball, driving the pitcher crazy, until he got a pitch he could work with."

"I was at once shocked and satisfied when, in a game that August, he lined a drive back to the pitcher’s mound and broke the leg of the awesome Cardinal right-hander . (Through the rest of Gibson’s career, I felt toward him the solicitude we reserve for people whom we’ve injured without meaning to.) The game that has pleased me the most in my years of following baseball was one between the Pirates and Cincinnati, a game that the Reds won 8-7. Clemente batted in all seven Pittsburgh runs, going five-for-five, with a triple and two home runs. I thought that this effort was incredibly poignant in its doomed and solitary heroism."

"[Last night] the league-leading Pittsburgh Pirates defeated the Giants, 1-0, in one of the most spectacular games of baseball ever played. Vinegar Bend Mizell, whom the Giants usually wrap up and mail back to the clubhouse by mid-game, scattered five hits but darn near destroyed his defense. He sent Roberto Clemente to the hospital, and had Virdon hung up on the left field wall twice, looking like wash on an ivy clothesline. In the sixth, Alou ripped a 420-footer that Virdon plucked from the ivy, and in the seventh, right fielder Clemente crashed into the wall to glove a Willie Mays rocket but to play no more this night. Clemente smashed face-on into the concrete base of the right-centerfield stands, at the 395-foot mark, and collapsed in the dirt warning track he had ignored in his pursuit of the certain double. It required five stitches to close a laceration on his chin and his left knee was sorely damaged. The catch had to rank with the greatest of all time, as well as one of the most frightening to watch and painful to make."

"It wasn’t easy to do, but the Giants, inventive, imaginative and impotent when potential runs were straining at leashes all over windy Candlestick, yesterday crashed out 14 base hits and only scored one little old run as they bowed to Pittsburgh, 6-1. For seven innings, it was anybody’s ball game, on the strength of a two-out, three-run mighty mash into the left center field seats by Roberto Clemente in the first inning. In every round, from the first through the ninth, the Giants had runners on the paths, nine of them getting to second base or beyond only to drown with land in sight. Fifteen Giants were left stranded aboard the sinking ship. Maranda had two down when he ran into his first trouble. Bob Skinner singled, Rocky Nelson doubled and the powerful Clemente, who had homered over the right field fence Wednesday, cracked this one, his thirteenth, over and beyond the 420-mark."

"Roberto Clemente, a villainous Pirate from Puerto Rico, smashed a two-out, bases-loaded home run off rookie in the eighth inning last night to give Pittsburgh a 6-4 victory over San Francisco, and prevent the Giants from regaining third place after they had appeared a “cinch” with only four outs to go. Clemente’s slammer, the first hit by a Pirate this year, will be remembered long by the competing varsities. Going into the eighth, the Giants had what appeared to be a reasonably secure lead at 4-1, and was working on a four-hitter. But pinch-hitter {w|Dick Schofield}} doubled into the left field corner and Sanford, reaching back for just about everything he had left, struck out . When the now arm-weary Giant walked , manager came out and got him. Alvin signaled for LeMay. The first thing Dick did was hit Bob Skinner on the seat of the pants, and the bases were loaded, and 23,177 fans accepted this in mute silence that indicated they sensed impending disaster. LeMay got dangerous to pop out and had a two-two count on Clemente, the National League’s leading hitter, when it happened. Roberto smacked the next cast high and far into the black night, over the 410-foot sign in center-field. Willie Mays scratched his way up the screen in a vain attempt to grab the disappearing pellet that was a couple of feet too high."

"Ironically, the Pirates’ only run was driven in by Clemente when Marichal tried to quick-pitch him with the bases loaded in the fifth. With the count three and two, Clemente was standing in the box, but not looking at Marichal, who threw swiftly. “I was trying to smooth out the dirt around the plate,” Clemente said, “not looking, when I hear someone on the bench yell at me. I look up and see the ball, and I try to just punch at it with one hand.” He got just enough of it to drive it into the ground in front of the plate and bounce it so high that Orlando Cepeda had to wait helplessly for it to come down as the run scored and Clemente fled across the base. Clemente laughed in reminiscence. “I don’t remember anybody try to quick-pitch me since do it with Brooklyn. I punch it for double.""

"They say that if you don’t get to Veale early, you never will. The Giants almost did in the fourth and some say third base coach suffered from a flash of conservatism. Willie had singled into left and was wild-pitched to second. Hart struck out, looking. McCovey popped to second base. Two out. strung a line drive single into right field, a ball solidly hit. Fox stopped Mays after Willie had gone 15 feet down the third base line toward home. Willie went to his knees as he applied the brakes and had to scramble back on all fours to get back to the bag. Haller struck out. If Fox had opened the gates and let Mays go, and if Willie had made it, the Giants would have won in nine innings. But I think Clemente’s throw would have eaten him up."

"The Giants, up to the point where Haller decided it all, had their best shot when Schroder walked with one out in the fifth. With the Pirate infield tucked in rather closely, Cline rolled a single past at first base and Schroder was on his way to a certain death. He challenged the best arm in the National League, the rifle that hangs from the shoulder of Roberto Clemente, and Roberto threw out Schroder into the glove of Maury Wills. The throw was so low in its flight from bare hand to glove, Cline could not risk an advance to second. Mays followed with a single that would have scored Bob had he not given Clemente the challenge."

"The key play was one that might have been forgotten in the frenetic scrambling of runs. With men on second and third in the sixth and the score 5-5, Willie Mays smashed a searing low line drive into right field that seemed destined to leave the park. But the amazing Roberto Clemente leaped, glove above the railing, crashed into the wire fence and came down with the ball, as 6,028 fans first groaned in anger, then stood to applaud as fine and brave a catch as an outfielder can make."

"The Pittsburgh Pirates defeated the Giants yesterday, 10-5, mostly on the strength of three consecutive home runs by Roberto Clemente. Clemente was incredible. Besides getting home runs number 17, 18 and 19, he added a single, scored four times and drove in four. A resume of the way he hit the homers proves how difficult it is to pitch to this man. He hit one high and away off McCormick over the right field screen in the first, he hit one low and inside over the right field screen in the third, also off McCormick, and then when Bolin challenged him with a high hard pitch down the middle, Roberto crashed it off the flagpole beyond the center field screen to come within one of tying the all-time record of home runs in a single game."

"The superb athlete, with one of the best physiques of any human being, looked like an old man when he walked, hunched over."

"It has just impressed me so much that I'll never forget Clemente. He can do everything so well. He runs well, he's got a magnificent arm, defensively; he does it all! And what a hitter! And that's not to say that Mays and Aaron are any less than a Clemente. But certainly, how could they be any better?"

"Roberto Clemente recently added up his dependents and found them to be 13. It was at that point that the great Pirate right fielder decided that he could not afford to retire from baseball, even if his right shoulder gives him pain. Therefore, Clemente will continue to earn his $100,000 during the summer for having occasional evenings like last night when he hit two home runs to help Bob Veale and Pittsburgh beat the New York Mets, 6-0. [...] The most valuable player in the National League in 1966 was batting only .276 going into last night’s game. But he drilled a homer deep into the right field bullpen off Tom Seaver to break a scoreless tie in the fourth inning and give him 1,000 runs batted in during his major league career. (This homer was also the 1,000th off Met pitching in almost seven seasons.) Two more runs batted in for Clemente came two innings later after ’s single had made the score 3-0 in the fifth. led off the sixth with a double and Clemente whacked a homer over the center-field fence."

"Ballplayers say he bats with his rear end in the dugout. He is just as likely to back away from a pitch as to step into it, and now that Henry Aaron has learned to pay more attention to the strike zone, Clemente is probably the best bad ball hitter in baseball."

"He is a right handed batter but his power is to right field. Of his 21 home runs this year, 14 have been in that general direction. When he smacks the ball it takes off the with the velocity and trajectory of a golfer's No. 2 iron unless the pitch is high and outside, in which case he is likely to punch it into the stands, as he did Monday night with one of 's sidearm curves. He is likely to pull the inside low pitch to left and has the kind of wrist action that enables him to back away from a pitch and still decapitate an infielder with a line drive. Even the man on the mound experiences something of the feeling of a man peering into an overdue volcano or a loaded when Clemente is at bat."

"Roberto Clemente got less than four hours sleep Saturday night but when he left for San Diego late Sunday afternoon it was the Dodgers who were tired – tired of seeing Roberto Clemente. The man whose career batting average of .316 is unexcelled by any active major leaguer completed the most productive two-game batting splurge in the history of modern baseball, getting five hits for the second time in 24 hours [20 hours, actually] and leading the Pirates to an 11-0 rout of the suddenly inoffensive Dodgers. In the Saturday marathon – the 16 inning struggle that lasted nearly 4 1/2 hours – Clemente singled in his first three at-bats (driving in the Pirates’ first run), lined out in his next two chances, then finished with two more singles (scoring the second and winning run). Sunday afternoon, the 36-year-old native of Puerto Rico had three singles, a double and a home run. He scored four runs and drove in three. , the manager of the Pirates, whistled and said: "Ten hits in two games! When I was playing, that was my quota for a month." It was, sadly, close to the Dodger quota too, and the team that hit .360 in the 11 games before the return to Dodger Stadium Friday night has 11 hits in two games."

"Refusal of the Bucs to trade Roberto Clemente probably was a wise policy but it is a distinct disappointment to Clemente, who would like especially to land in New York, where his popularity among the Puerto Rican populace could double his income in testimonials alone."

"The second Buc run, just before the burst of five, was set up by Roberto Clemente’s blast high off the [right] center wall, above the 436-foot marker. The ball got there so fast, and bounced back to Murphy so hard, that the speedy Roberto got only two bases."

"The best damn ballplayer in the World Series – maybe in the whole world – is Roberto Clemente and, as far as I’m concerned, they can give him the automobile right now. Maybe some guys hit the ball farther, and some throw it harder, and one or two run faster, although I doubt that, but nobody puts it all together like Roberto. [...] In Game 3, Clemente hit a ground ball to the right side first time up. It was stamped DP. The Orioles got one. In the seventh, Clemente led off with a bouncer back to the box. knocked it down, picked it up, was aghast to see the batter streaking down the line, hurried his throw, high, and Clemente was safe. The next batter walked on four pitches, the next batter hit the ball out of the park. Mike Cuellar’s composure was shattered. The game was over. [...] Roberto Clemente is a 37-year-old roadrunner. He has spent 18 summers of those years playing baseball for the Pittsburgh Pirates. He has batted over .300 thirteen times, and for the last three seasons, in his decrepitude, he has hit .345, .352, .341. But everybody has numbers. Don’t mind the numbers. Just watch how Roberto Clemente runs 90 feet the next time he hits the ball back to the pitcher and ask yourself if you work at your job that way. Every time I see Roberto Clemente play ball, I think of the times I’ve heard about how ‘they’ dog it, and I want to vomit."

"Today, at Leone's Restaurant, Roberto Clemente was handed the keys to the Sport Mag car, for having won the World Series for Pittsburgh. At age 37, he can hit the ball back to the box and beat the car to first base."

"Hank Aaron is making himself look foolish by going around in a pout every time some white athlete wins an award. His latest tantrum involves Babe Ruth being named No. 1 athlete of all time, over Muhammad Ali. A man's mind has to be pretty mixed up to believe Babe Ruth is overrated because he was white ... If Hank really wants to be upset, let him protest the fact that, in the same poll, Jackie Robinson finished 50th to Henry Aaron's 15th, Jack Dempsey finished in a 34th-place tie with , Roberto Clemente was 111th to 's 21st, and Jack Johnson was shut out completely on the 150-name list."

"I saw him hit that darned thing with his back foot off the ground. He one-footed that thing. I thought I was watching Roberto Clemente in his heyday."

"When I’m done, I want people to say, "He’s the best." Right field belongs to Roberto Clemente, center field belongs to Willie Mays. I want left field to belong to me."

"There aren’t many guys like him anymore: five-tool guys who use all their tools. I don’t know if there’s anybody quite in his class. He’s a Roberto Clemente-type player – no batting gloves and I’m going to stand up here and you throw it and I’m going to hit it like hell and after I hit it, I’m going to run like hell until somebody tags me out."

"It was a bang-bang play at first base and I called Clemente out. And he called me a "blind son-of-a-beeeech." And I said, "You can go, Mr. Clemente." And out came Mr. Murtaugh and he said to me, "Why did you run him?" And I told him what Clemente had said. And Murtaugh said, "He couldn't have said that. He doesn’t speak any English." And I said, "Well you guys taught him some English.”"

"My two sons, Harry and Nathaniel, my father and my father-in-law and many of my friends idolized Roberto Clemente and so did I. I called him a double superstar."

"Momen, as we childhood friends called him, had the combative fury of very few athletes. I recall very well the day that his older brothers took him to play in the kids’ league at the Barrio San Antón School. He couldn’t have been older than ten and was probably younger. Some of us were much older. For example there was his brother Matino, whose catches at first base were the sensation of the barrio. And Lorenzo, another brother, who gripped the bat cross-handed and whose line drives shook the zinc roof of the schoolhouse. And Andres, who threw underhand style. They were the Clemente brothers: Matino, Lorenzo, Andres, and Momen. All you had to do was look at Momen to know that he had been born to play baseball."

"He and Roberto Clemente were the ones I paid attention to as a boy. I loved it that both of them could really drive the ball. I guess that’s what I saw myself doing some day. I loved how they’d thump the ball, how far they could hit it."

"Roberto Clemente never argued. He didn’t need umpires. He just needed one pitch – the best right field hitter I ever saw. Robby was strong all over. He hit so many line drives in the infield he’s lucky he didn’t kill anybody."

"The bigger the guy, the less he argues. You never heard a word out of Stan Musial, Willie Mays or Roberto Clemente. They never tried to make you look bad."

"Junior: I started out as a pitcher and first baseman. I went to the outfield when I was 14 and I had to learn to play center. Dad didn’t help me. He just told me ‘Go, get ’em.’ Willie [Stargell, then a coach with Atlanta] taught me footwork, positioning, how to get a jump, how to read a ball. Senior: And I learned right along with Junior. I could never tell Junior anything because we didn’t know exactly what to do. Coming up with Cinci, they did not coach us, they just told us, "Go catch it; if you can’t catch it, pick it up and hit the cutoff man with your throw." And Stargell knew his stuff. He had learned outfield from Roberto Clemente. Junior was 17 and I was 36, and there we were taking instruction together."

"[One of my] favorite players to watch was Roberto Clemente. It was like watching a wild bull turned loose. He was the only player who ever galloped."

"Roberto Clemente was very quiet. He never said much, but when he was at bat—if he didn't like a call—he could turn and give you a look, and everybody in the crowd immediately knew that Roberto was accusing you of kicking the call. Though he was the quietest of players, Roberto could get you in the outhouse just by looking at you."

"Memories rise up and lap and overlap – the matador stance at the plate and in the field, the special hauteur that only the Latin Americans can muster, the public face and demeanor that (for me) seemed reminiscent of a similar decorum in Joe DiMaggio both on and off the field, the constant concern, as was the case with DiMaggio, to be sartorially flawless. [...] As a fielder, Clemente did not merely play right field; he owned, he diagrammed, he wrote the book on right field. Whether he was playing the bounces when the ball ricocheted off the treacherous angles of the right field corner of ( of the old once knocked himself out by slamming into one of the abutments there) or, on occasion, when he actually threw out from the deepest part of right-center field a runner attempting to score from third after the catch, Clemente fielded and threw like a master. His unorthodoxy frequently included throwing behind the runner as he rounded first or second (a no-no for most other fielders), but many was the baserunner who saw that Clemente’s throw actually beat him to the base that he had rashly passed and tried too late to retouch."

"I used to go to Forbes Field as a kid and sit in right field, right behind him, just to watch him throw. He would handcuff the infielders on a throw from right field. – they called him ‘The Tiger’ – played third base for the Pirates, and you could almost see fear in his eyes on one of Clemente’s throws. Clemente had the greatest velocity, but he also had accuracy. Some of the guys coming up now are great throwers, but they have no clue as to where it’s going."

"He was the first right fielder that I remember that would literally take balls off the right field wall in Forbes Field – it was only three hundred feet down the line – and he’d take the ball off the wall and without even looking, just spin around and throw the ball in behind the runner coming around first base. He’d get the guy going back to first before he could even stop and turn around. Maybe only one time did a runner keep going to second off him, anticipating that he was going to throw behind him. He was just uncanny; those guys wouldn’t even make a turn at first base when they’d hit a ball off the screen in right or off the wall."

"I was checking out all the bats he had and kind of rubbing a couple of them on me to get a little bit of luck. It’s pretty impressive what he swung, for someone his size, too. You see the pictures of him, I’m thinking this guys’ 6-5, 6-6 but you hear he was maybe 5-11, 5-10. It’s pretty impressive he was able to swing something like this and produce the numbers he did."

"They are honoring a great one in Clemente. I have been watching his career ever since he joined the Pittsburgh club. Roberto should wind up as one of the all-time stars before he is through."

"Here you see him swinging against Jon Matlack on September 30, 1972. The swing resulted in his 3,000th hit, a double to [left] center and the last hit of his career. This is kind of unfortunate, since looking at it now, it’s obvious that it’s not going to be a good swing. I think he’s been fooled by the ball. I think he was probably looking inside and the ball turned out to be away. Consequently, he’s not well balanced and is squatting down a bit. I think he may have [tried to] check this swing but was unable to stop it. Nevertheless, it’s a tribute to his great body control that he still hit it the way he did. It’s the kind of control you often find with great athletes, men who combine strength with flexibility to create a smooth, graceful motion. I think you find that players of Clemente’s caliber also tend to use good mechanics almost naturally, without really having to think much about them. Clemente, for example, stood off the plate, yet he still coped effectively with the ball outside. He had excellent arm extension and, in fact, was one of the first players I noticed taking his top hand off the bat. Nor did Clemente try to pull the ball. In fact, I think he made a conscious effort to hit the ball the other way. He counted a double to right center the same as a double down the right field line, and I think he was proud of the fact that he could do both. All good hitters use the whole field."

"Hitters like Roberto Clemente and Yogi Berra were exceptions. They could get the fat part of the bat on the ball no matter where the ball was thrown. They created their own strike zone because pitchers could not come up with a strategy that would consistently get those batters out."

"The people that knew Clemente always said, "If you want to wear that number, this is the way you do things." I was playing in 1978 in Arecibo and was my manager. I didn’t run hard on a ground ball. One-hopper to short, I didn’t bust my tail. I went to first base and instead of taking my helmet, the first base coach said, "You’re wanted in the dugout." Jack says to me, "It seems you’re tired. You sit here." Then after a while he said to me, "If you’re going to play in the big leagues and wear that number, you always go hard.""

"A friend of mine used to call me Joey U for Unitas. I also admired Roberto Clemente. Those two were my heroes. I never watch a baseball game on TV unless Clemente or Rich Allen is playing. I always watch a game Bob Gibson is pitching."

"He had such a flair. He had such a grace. He was a gentleman. I remember a royal essence about him. He was just so graceful. I wouldn’t dare say that I had an arm like Clemente, [but] I used to catch like Roberto. I stepped into the box like Roberto. Tried to be like Roberto. He was my baseball hero. He was the first hero I had. Big time. I even have an autographed Roberto Clemente baseball at home."

"Oh, my God. Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Really."

"I soon decided never to change the number that the had assigned me for my debut major-league game—number 21. At the time it was a random occurrence, since that was a number that happened to be available. On the other hand, it felt lucky to me. Even when I later had the choice to change, I continued to wear it—in honor of Roberto Clemente and his contributions to baseball. In time number 21 was to become part of me and who I was, what I expected of myself on the field when I played."

"I told him: "Estudie Espanol en la escuela para dos anos. Para afuera. (I studied Spanish in school for two years. Take a hike.)" The next time Clemente saw me, he said: "Hey, Pablito, buena gente. (Little Paul, you’re good people.)" And he warned all the other Latin players that I could speak Spanish."

"Well, I'm sort of glad to see Pittsburgh win because that Clemente is so great."

"What was incredible about Clemente was not only how skilled he was at each part of the game, but this kind of ferocity that he played with on each play of the game — even in years when they were pitiful and they had no chance to get into the pennant or anything like that. He would throw it in, he would pick guys off who got a single who took too much of a turn going around first; there was just something intense about this guy that was not necessarily what was going on in Baseball at that moment."

"I knew last year the All-Star Game was going to be here. Ever since then, I wanted to be here where he played. He was the greatest. That's why I wear his number, in honor of him. Not because I can be like him but because of an honor for him."

"On a single, Andruw rounded first base and put on the brakes to get back to the bag, but he never lost his balance. I hadn’t seen anybody do it that gracefully since I once saw Roberto Clemente do it against the Phillies in old [[w|Shibe Park}} years ago."

"I grew up in Butler, Pennsylvania, which is 30 miles north of Pittsburgh. I got to see Roberto Clemente in his prime. I tohught then and still think now that he was the greatest player I have ever seen. A throwing arm that no one, past or present, could rival. He played hard; played the right way. Power, speed ... he had it all."

"For many years he played winter baseball in Puerto Rico for the , and he managed them for a couple of years. I remember the time when I went to see a game between his team and the Santurce Crabbers, two traditional rivals from the San Juan metropolitan area. was playing for the Crabbers. It was the year that Cepeda had won the Most Valuable Player Award in the majors. Probably as a tribute to Clemente and “his” team, the first time Cepeda came to bat, there were long screaming boos. I was with Clemente in the dugout and he became so annoyed that I could see tears in his eyes. “What are they trying to do with this man?” he said angrily. “This guy is the best baseball player in the National League in the majors. What else do they want?” He got so embarrassed that he hid himself in the dugout. He thought of the people as a whole, not as fans of this team or that team."

"No one drives himself like Clemente. I've never seen a more intense person. If Clemente were a football player, he'd make look like a pussycat."

"I've watched the boy in several games. He's got the stuff, all around stuff, to be a great one. He can hit, he can field, he can throw, he can run, he plays it to the hilt. How can he miss being a good one? As to comparing him with me, I don't know about that. All I can say is I wish him the best. I hope he makes a lot of money from this game and saves it."

"As a college student, I went to an Astros game in 1970. The Pirates had clinched the division, so it was a meaningless game. I’m sitting down the right field line, and an Astro hits a line drive that’s slicing away from the Pirates right fielder, the great Roberto Clemente. The ball is slicing, slicing, slicing, and suddenly out of nowhere, like a missile tracking on radar, there’s Clemente, jumping and crashing against the fence to make the catch. It’s one of those moments like when a basketball gets wedged between the rim and the backboard: for an instant, time stands still. It’s like, “What did I just see?” I never thought about that moment again until years later. I was stuck in an airport, reading an article by a former Pirates beat writer about Clemente: his leadership, his great World Series, how he always delivered in big games. Then the writer starts describing the greatest catch he had ever seen Clemente make, and I realized he was talking about that game, that catch. Suddenly I was sharing a moment – almost a secret with someone I’d never met, someone I may have nothing in common with. I take that back: We’re both baseball fans."

"A Los Angeles newspaper reports Roberto Clemente is asking a $60,000 fee from publishers considering his autobiography. The great one is worth every dollar."

"Frank Eck, Associated Press feature sports writer, arrived here this morning to report that he has completed an agreement with Clemente to write a book. "I haven't decided on a title," Eck said. "It could be 'Clemente Speaks Out' or 'Clemente, the Great.'" Whatever the title, the book should make good reading."

"Speaking of books, one news wire service will soon come out with four of them on Roberto Clemente ... Frank Eck, New York Associated Press sportswriter, says he has the only real book on Clemente ... composed of recorded interviews."

"Kids – he always liked to talk about kids. You know, he was always kind of reluctant to go on an interview show, but once you got him on there, you couldn’t stop him. He’d talk forever – about baseball, about Puerto Rico, and about kids."

"After it was over, he offered to drive me to the airport. The snow was deep on the roads. I figured it was on his way, so I said okay. I found out later that he was really going to the other side of the city and it was far out of his way."

"He was one of the most dignified human beings I ever met, but he also could be very funny. Last year, we went to have breakfast in San Francisco. There was an elderly black woman in the restaurant who keeps looking at Clemente. Finally she comes over and says, "Mr. Blue, can I have your autograph?" "I’m sorry," he says, "but I’m not ." "Oh!" she says and walks away. Roberto looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and says with a smile, "See? That’s fame and fortune for you." The time I’ll never forget is when we went to a Chinese restaurant in Philadelphia. There were three of us – Roberto Clemente from Puerto Rico, Eddie Acosta of Panama, and me, a Hungarian. A real old Chinese waiter comes over. Roberto says to him, ‘We want sweet and sour pork, duck almond, fried rice, wonton soup – but we don’t want individual servings. We want it all in big dishes so we can serve ourselves." The old Chinese waiter looks at me, a real puzzled look on his face. So there we are – a Panamanian, a Hungaraian, a Puerto Rican, and a Chinaman. Roberto is laughing. He stands up and says real loud: "For Heaven’s sake, doesn’t anyone speak English in this joint?""

"Everybody knows what kind of player Bobby was, but I’ll miss him most as a man. He was probably the best friend I ever had in this game. On the buses and planes, in the clubhouse, he was a joy to be around, so happy all the time, always looking for something to laugh about. He had something going on with each player. It’s kind of unique in baseball when a person – especially a superstar like him – can get along so well with twenty-five different players. I’ve never heard anybody talk about Clemente being aloof. Any time a guy would be going bad – say, Oliver or Cash – next day you’d see Clemente sitting by his locker, talkin’ to him. Nobody else around – just real quiet talk. Players on other teams used to come to Clemente and ask, "What am I doing wrong?" He’d tell ’em no matter what it cost our club – that guy could beat us a ball game – but none of our players felt bad when he tried to help somebody. That’s the way he was."

"How many people just shit on him because he was so nice? He couldn’t refuse anybody. He used to rub down some of the players. At first he thought I’d mind, but I’d say, "No, you know more about it than I do!" Which he did. He studied about the spine, the muscles in the back. He was gonna open a clinic, and he told me, "I want you to come down and work for me in the winter time." I’d say, "Bobby, please be careful. There's a lot of people who’ll come to you; you’ll work on ‘em and they’ll claim that you hurt ‘em. There’s a lot of bad people in the world." He would never believe that! He couldn’t believe that anyone would try to deliberately hurt him. He’d kid me, "Aw, don’t worry – you dagos, you’re always suspicious.""

"I remember once Clemente called a meeting in the clubhouse. Back then, only the top three or four players on the team were ever offered any money – $300 or $400 – to make any appearances or do any promotions. Now they all participate. Clemente proposed that everybody on the team would share – that all the money would be put in a pot to be divided at the end of the season. All the players and coaches would participate, and so would the trainer and the clubhouse man. Clemente said it wasn’t fair that only a few got the extra money. But we had one player on that team who’d been an All-Star with another team. He said everyone should keep his own money – that it should be every man for himself. And that was the end of that idea. But Clemente always wanted to share. He was always thinking about his teammates."

"He was very leary of the media. He was misquoted a lot of times, and they made fun of the way he spoke. They made him sound like one of those Indians in the movies. He was a proud man and this really got to him. He had fierce pride. He was proud of being a Puerto Rican. He was proud that he served in the military service here. He was proud that he was in the Marine Corps. He trained at in South Carolina. That was the toughest kind of training soldiers had to go through. I remember this one time he was late getting to the dressing room when we were playing in San Francisco. He walks to his locker, and we tell him he better hurry up and get in uniform. He said something about how fast a guy could get dressed – something he had learned in the Marine Corps. He said, ‘I’ll be undressed and dressed in three minutes.’ I bet him he couldn’t do it. And I put the clock on him. That sonofagun was in full uniform in less than three minutes. A lot of times he’d run out onto the field with his pants unbuttoned, or his glove on top of his head as he pulled at his belt. And he’d be hollering, ‘Where’s my glove? Where’s my glove?’ I’m telling you – he was a funny, funny man."

"We became quite friendly, and he even began to ask my advice, informally, on legal matters. The next year, a man Roberto loved very much died in an auto accident and left a large family. Their family lawyer had to leave the case because he was appointed to a government job. He asked me to take over the case. The family was offered $30,000 to settle, which was about the maximum ever paid before in Puerto Rico. Roberto had been financing the family for quite some time, with considerable amounts of money, and if they won the case they could pay him back; if not, he said forget it. I explained to Roberto that $30,000 wasn’t really equal to the economic loss of the person, and in the course of the conversation he displayed such a degree of logic that he even gave me a few pointers that I used in arguing the case! Finally, we settled for $348,000, although the Supreme Court later lowered it to $95,000."

"I saw him on the field and I said, "Tommy, why did you tell that story?" He said, "What do you mean?" I said, "One: Clemente didn’t hang out with you. Second: Clemente speaks English. There’s some Puerto Ricans who speak English." No, Clemente did speak English. Cepeda speaks English. Puerto Rico, you know, is part of the United States. So, over there, youngsters do have the privilege of taking English in classrooms. He wouldn’t give a speech like Shakespeare, but he knew how to order breakfast and eggs. He knew how to say, "It’s a good day," "Let’s play," or "Why I don’t play?" He could say, "Let’s go to the movies." I played with guys – like when Sandy got on the Dodgers, he knew maybe twenty words of English. That’s why they roomed with me, because I spoke a little Spanish from playing in Cuba. But that wasn’t the case with Clemente. Clemente was able to communicate with those he wanted to communicate with."

", Roberto and myself, the three of us palled around. We went out to eat, we went to the movies together, we laughed and we joked. Oh yeah, he was funny. The three of us, we just laughed all the time. See, we joked amongst ourselves. Some people think because you’re colored, they’ve got the stereotype that we’re like those guys in the old days – always cracking jokes. I’m not a joke cracker. Clemente wasn’t either, but we could say things now and then that were funny and we could ad lib things."

"The sad part is Pittsburgh had him so long and never really understood him."

"Robby was one of the most decent men I ever met, yet somehow no one seemed to understand him. Maybe there was a language barrier. I don’t know. I do know he was absolutely selfless, not a distant person. When he talked about his physical problems, the writers made jokes, but what he was trying to say was that blacks and Latins play hurt, too. The writers didn’t get that. They said he was a hypochondriac. But I never knew a Pirate player who felt Clemente wouldn’t play with an injury unless it was so severe he simply couldn’t play. It was horrible when writers started coming in the clubhouse saying, "I wonder what’s going to be wrong with him today?" That was unfair – totally unfair. They always seemed to react to his words instead of the thought he was trying to convey – I guess it was easier than getting to know him."

"He reacted more to rookies than to guys who had been around for awhile, maybe because he would’ve liked someone to have helped him when he was a rookie. Clemente had known the same problems – the new language, getting acclimated to the big league atmosphere, how to deal with the media, where to eat on the road, how to dress. Sangy got picked off twice in one game. Robby came into the clubhouse, got a big piece of cardboard and put two sticks through it. He told Sangy to pretend it was a machine that he would use to take control of Sangy when he got on base. We laughed for 20 minutes, but it made Sangy realize he didn’t have to stick his head in his locker if he made a costly mistake in a game, that we were all in this thing together. That’s a valuable lesson and it could’ve saved Sangy a couple of years anxiety because he learned right away that no teammate holds a player completely responsible for losing a game."

"We sometimes got pretty light-hearted, and when Robby got involved was always a crowd. You knew something really funny was happening. But I never saw anybody so much aware of who came in that clubhouse door. He was concerned that if media people were there, it could be taken out of context and the feeling between the players would be lost. But when we were alone, oh gee – he and Tony would agitate each other back and forth and then Giusti would come in and they’d get going about the Puerto Ricans versus the Italians – screaming – and just loving every minute of it. But despite all the kidding, Roberto always insisted that you must never lose your dignity. ‘Tony,’ he’d say, ‘lose everything else, but never lose your dignity.’ He’d say it in a half-kidding tone, but you knew he meant it."

"Clemente truly loved Tony and ‘Hully’ [John Hallahan, Pirate clubhouse attendant]. Hully was part Russian, I think, and he’d run off all these Russian phrases to stir up things. Whatever he was saying, it seemed to get a good rise out of Roberto on a regular basis. Tony was always giving Roberto a rubdown before every game. It was a pre-game ritual. He’d work out all the kinks in Clemente’s neck and shoulders. Sometimes I’d crawl under the training table and do a bit like I was a voice in the distance giving them instructions. There was a popular TV show at the time called ‘Mission Impossible.’ I took my cue from that show. I’d say, ‘Good morning, Mr. Clemente; this is your neck. Your assignment today is to get three doubles off . As usual, we will disavow any knowledge of this conversation. And Tony, get thees son-of-a-beetch outta here!’ And Clemente would go crazy."

"I have it arranged so that Curt and Roberto and our other colored boys play in our 'home' games. The white boys competing with them for positions play our 'away' games. That way our guys are protected against the little unpleasant things like waiting in the bus while we bring sandwiches out of lunchrooms to them, and like having having to go 'across the railroad tracks' to find places to stay overnight or relax until park time. With this system, everybody gets to play about the same number of games, and it's a happier outfit all around."

"My thoughts about Roberto are not so much about the ballplayer, but more of the man I respected as a teammate and an opponent for nine years. The quality of his play was directly indicative of his values. He gave all he had every game. He was kind and helpful to all of us younger players. He had a desire to be appreciated and drove himself to higher levels of performance than others. He recognized the need to excel in all phases of the game, and he encouraged everyone to do the same. [...] One real important thing – which probably cost him his life – was that if he thought he was right to do something, he did it with all he had in him regardless of the risks or what anyone else thought. He was a hero on and off the diamond."

"Roberto Clemente was a guy who had a stern face, but people misread his intensity as militancy and his humility as complacency."

"He would talk with me often about his feelings. You know, Clemente felt strongly about the fact that he was a Puerto Rican and that he was a black man. In each of these things he had pride. But it was a beautiful, uncompromising kind of pride, because I never heard him – and you must remember here that I am fluent in Spanish – I just never heard him make a slurring remark about anyone’s color or religion. In this he was remarkable. On the other hand, because of the early language barriers, I am sure that there were times when he thought people were laughing at them when they were not. It is difficult for a Latin-American ballplayer to understand everything said around him when it is said at high speed, if he doesn’t speak English that well. But, in any event, he wanted very much to prove to the world that he was a superstar and that he could do things that in his heart he felt that he had already proven."

"This was a man who looked at the television pictures coming back from the moon and saw the world. Clemente thought of all the people who came together to put that guy there. He conceived of them as a brotherhood."

"I learned a lot about Clemente from Rod Carew, who was my hitting instructor in Milwaukee. Carew told me that when he came up to the big leagues (in 1967), Roberto had made it very clear to the Latin guys (throughout baseball), "We’re a minority here in the States. Take pride in what you do, and take care of each other and the young (Latins) coming up.""

"and all those different guys – they’re partying types. And if they're the partying type, would you expect a man who was a sedentary individual to get involved? No. These individuals were drinking, they were out having parties – they have fun. Clemente was not that type of individual. Clemente said, "If I’m here to do a job, the job must take precedence. Now after the season is over, I can have all the parties I want. But if I’m here to do a job, I’ve signed a contract to do a job." But the American mentality is not that way."

"One of the things that he really liked to do was go to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh and visit kids. That’s something that many people don’t write about. That’s where his real passion was – making other people feel important."

"Roberto was a very mature boy, even when he was ten or so. Basically, he was a good kid. He did two things, played ball and stayed home. He never got into trouble. We called him "Momen" from the time he was little. When he had grown up and become a star, no one could remember what the name meant. He was always quiet, never got whipped. We used to kid him about that."

"If anybody needed help with advice or money, he would give it. Once, when he was about 11, there was an automobile accident. The car caught fire, and he crossed the highway and took the driver out so he wouldn’t burn. In school he was a leader. When they needed to build a fence to protect the school, he organized a group of boys and, through various activities, they raised money to help build the fence."

"Roberto rarely took time for himself. His time was for others, his family, strangers. Only time he did something for himself was after the season. He'd go to a farm he owned near the rain forest. He'd just relax. If the Pirates weren't in the World Series, he'd relax on that farm and watch the World Series on television. He once spent the day with Martin Luther King in his other farm in Martín González in Carolina. They talked about everything. Roberto admired how he gave poor people a voice."

"After Roberto passed, I was looking at some documents about Roberto, and I saw him registered as Roberto Enrique Clemente Walker. He never used the name Enrique. I didn't know that was his name. My baby has the same name – Roberto Enrique – as his dad."

"Clemente was an emotional man, and that was his beauty. It drove him not only to physical anguish, but also to nearly incredible performances on the field as well as to the good work he was engaged in at his death. Often, although not so much in his maturing years, he seemed almost paranoid in his complaints against this or that, but when he said he loved mankind you had to believe him, because even the heat of his most bitter outburst almost always blew over, and where he had been loud, he would suddenly become reasonable and even eloquent. A man to confuse you? Yes, absolutely, but only because man’s full range of passions ran strong in him. Cunning he was not. Honest he was. And the proof is that he was no honorary chairman of that relief committee for Nicaragua -- he was no figurehead chairman in name only; he was not merely a celebrity lending his prestige but not his heart or his labor to a cause. Honorary chairmen do not disappear into the Atlantic in the performance of duty."

"Both Walkers owe a debt of gratitude to the most revered player in Pirates history. Tom Walker played winter ball in Puerto Rico in 1972 and helped Roberto Clemente load a plane carrying relief supplies to earthquake survivors in Nicaragua after Christmas. He offered to accompany Clemente on the trip, but the plane was full and Clemente told him to stay behind and enjoy New Year's Eve. A few hours later, Tom Walker returned to his condo and saw the news reports that Clemente's plane had crashed off the coast of Isla Verde, Puerto Rico. Four decades later he's still awed by the notion that he would have perished without Clemente's selfless gesture, and his four children never would have been born."

"As we were talking, I was moving my neck around so he asked me what was the matter. I told him that my neck hurt because of an old baseball injury. In a 1958 spring training intrasquad game, I had cracked the third cervical vertebra in my neck when I had a collision with another player trying to catch a popup. Bobby told me to go take a shower with the water as hot as I could stand it. I did that and when I came out of the shower beet red all over, he had me lie on the trainer’s table for a massage. With his very strong hands, he kneaded the muscles in my neck and back and it felt wonderful. Afterwards, he told me to stand up with my back to him. He took two towels, wrapped them together into a cylindrical shape, placed them along my spine, and grabbed me in a bear hug. Then – in something similar to the Heimlich maneuver – he bent backward, pulled me toward him, lifted me off the ground, and sort of bounced me up and down for a moment. As he did, I heard a sound like a xylophone and felt my spine go into perfect alignment. He put me down and said, ‘You’ll feel better tomorrow.’ Heck, I felt better already. But the thing that really impressed me was that the next night I got a call from the visitors’ clubhouse in St. Louis. It was Bobby, and he wanted to know if my back was better. That was the act of a compassionate man, and I didn’t need the crash that ended his life to know that about Bobby."

"Well, somebody asked me if it was true that I scuffled with Roberto Clemente and he pulled a knife and cut me on the hand. Then they said and came in to break it up and Stuart threw Clemente against the wall and that's how he hurt his arm. I never had an argument with anyone, Clemente doesn't own a knife, and I doubt if Stuart, strong as he is, could pick up Clemente—an ex-Marine—and throw him against a wall."

"If I went along with all the praise he gets, I’d be a hypocrite. Because it’s not my true feelings. I didn’t look up to him as a person. He was a great ballplayer, when he wanted to play, but as a person – from my point of view – he wasn’t my kind of guy. I’ll probably get shot for that, but that’s the way I feel."

"I don't believe if Clemente were still alive that there'd be a statue. It's the way he died. I think, in my mind, Stargell did as much for the people of Pittsburgh, for the team, for the organization. He deserves a statue as much as Clemente does for the contributions he made here. That's my feeling. Stargell mingled more with the public, and he mingled more with his teammates, and he was more of a positive influence all around."

"I asked Face if he remembered where he was when he learned that Clemente had died in an airplane crash on New Year's Eve of 1972. Again, somewhat strangely, a smile. "I was sleeping," he said. He was living in Penn Hills at the time with his first wife, Jeanne Kuran, who was from Pittsburgh and to whom he was married for 25 years, and their daughter Michelle, then 17, who woke him up to tell him the bad news about Clemente. Face remembered his reaction to Michelle's wake-up call. "I said, ‘Better him than me,’ and rolled over and went back to sleep." It sounded harsh. Face chortled at his own story."

"There wasn’t too much contact with Clemente off the field; just at the ballpark. He was pretty much by himself, a loner. We were never close… He didn’t hang around with us much. He was always with , or or . He had other friends. There were always people from Puerto Rico or other Latin countries wherever we traveled. He was just more of a loner."

"Roberto’s body didn't appear because God wanted us to remember him as he was: that handsome negro, so strong, so beautiful within and without."

"Everybody looked rumpled next to Roberto Clemente."

"He was my middle man if I needed help, if there was a problem between management and one of the players. A lot of people thought he was moody and temperamental, but he wasn’t. He was like a kid in many ways. He had that mischievous look. I always felt he wanted to be a practical joker but that he felt he had to be restrained, the proper leader. He was a god to the Latin-American players. They’d congregate around him in the dining room. If he laughed, they laughed. If he frowned, they frowned. And he was always making appearances you wouldn’t find out about until several days later. He’d go to a hospital or an orphanage and no one would know it. I’m not sure he confided in anyone except his wife."

"You know, I’ve never met Mrs. Clemente, but I thought of her often ... very often."

"In most cases I wouldn’t have felt compelled to provide a reason for knocking a batter down, but somehow Clemente brought out my soft side. It was virtually impossible to ignore him because he was always talking. Usually, it was to complain about how much his back or his shoulder or some other damn thing was hurting him. "Oh, my back," he would say, "ees keeling me." He would go on and on until you had no choice but to say, "Clemente, shut the fuck up!" Then he would step in the batter’s box and swing so hard that the flagsticks on top of the stadium would bend. He was so full of shit that you had to laugh, and you couldn’t help liking the guy."

"He came over to me and talked to me for about ten or fifteen minutes. He talked about life in general, about family, and he tried to bring out the belief that baseball wasn’t the end all in our lives – that we had to make sure we kept things in balance. He wanted to make sure you kept them in the right order; like family and your wife. He wanted us to remember that these were the most important things. He didn't have to come over and talk to me, but he did."

"He always complained about pains in his stomach. He’d come to the plate and I could see he was in pain and I’d say, "Robby, what’s wrong?" And he’d say, "Tom, I don’t feel too good." But he didn’t like to go to the doctor – he didn’t believe in doctors."

"I was crushed. You don’t want to drag your career out. You want to contribute, especially with a club like this one. It was a dumb pitch. I felt terrible. Everyone got dressed quickly – I guess they wanted to leave me with my misery. But Clemente came over and talked to me. All he did was spend 20 minutes holding my hand because he knew I was suffering. He’s a guy who’d been in baseball for so long, and he had three hits that night, and he came over to help. It’s the warmest thing anyone’s ever done for me in baseball."

"Bobby clearly was a good person. What he did to help those people in Nicaragua was typical of Bobby. Down deep, he was a very good person. He wanted to help people. He never felt he got his just due from the news media, and he was always trying to prove himself. But he was kinda bashful, at first, and didn’t like to talk too much. Later, he’d give the news guys a rough time a lot, hollering at them as soon as they identified themselves or started to ask him questions. It took him a long time to get the language down where he felt confident to be interviewed. When Bobby wanted to be, he could be most entertaining on the bus. Every so often, he’d get all wound up and he’d be entertaining everyone on the bus. Most of the people, though, don’t know that Bobby Clemente existed."

"“You mean you wrote me a nasty letter objecting to a column you had never read?” “A friend call me and tell me what you write about me,” he said. “I’m angry so I sit down and write to you when I’m mad.” “Now I’m mad,” I said. “Don’t ever talk to me again or complain again until you’ve read that column.” Weeks passed. I had forgotten the incident completely when I next saw Clemente. “I call my friend and tell him he is horse_ _ _ _,” Roberto said. For the moment, I didn’t understand. Roberto recognized that. “You remember you tell me I have to read your story before I talk to you and complain?” he said. “I read the story I find out that you did not write what my friend said. So now I apologize to you for the letter and I tell my friend he is no longer my friend because he does not tell me the truth.” It was a rare moment in my years in sports; a player admitting that he may have been wrong. Clemente didn’t need me but he felt it incumbent upon himself to tell me that he had done me an injustice."

"Roberto unleashed a barrage of English and Spanish – and I don’t know what all – in which he was obviously indicating his displeasure with this particular individual. Unknown to me, they had had some problems over the years. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. After this outburst, Roberto sort of settled down. He looked at me and said, "Would it help you if I do this interview?" I said, "Well, yes, I guess it would. This is my first day on the job. I don’t know you and I don’t know him and I’m trying to get off on the right foot." And Roberto said, "OK, for you, I will do it." And he got dressed and went out and talked to the individual for the first time, apparently, in several years. He did it as a favor to me – someone he had only met a few moments before. I just never forgot that. I don’t think you would find many athletes who would have been so solicitous and so understanding, and go out of their way as he did to accommodate me that day. We went on to become very good friends, but I never forgot that gesture on his part. It was just an indication of the type of person that he was."

"He called me ‘Hully’ – that’s my nickname. Sometimes he’d call me John, and I’d say, "Well now, don’t get too personal there, Herschel." For some reason Roberto kidded me about being a Russian Jew, even though I’m not, and then he’d claim he was Jewish too! So then I’d call him Herschel, and he loved it. I always told him that someday I wanted to buy a home, and he’d say, "Stick with me, Hully, and I’ll put money in your pocket." Then he’d kid around and say, "We’re gonna put some ham in that refrigerator, no more plain baloney." Sure enough, when we won the 1971 World Series, I got a full share of the winnings and right away I put $10,000 down on a house. He was so tickled about me getting the house. I remember, during that Series, when he was at bat, I’d yell, "C’mon, you sonofabitch! C’mon Herschel, hit one for me!""

"I'm not Roberto Clemente, I'm your Democratic presidential candidate!"

"The biggest misunderstanding with Clemente was not that he was black, but that he was a Latin. We didn't understand Latins. Latins are a very proud people. Pride is what killed Clemente. He had such pride in everything he did. And he wanted everything h was associated with to be done right. He flew in that plane to Nicaragua because he had heard that the food and supplies were not going to the people who needed it the most. He wanted to make sure the relief effort for the earthquake victims was carried out properly. If Clemente was in charge of the relief effort, he would lead the effort. He was never an honorary chairman of anything."

"If somebody pays you a compliment in Puerto Rico, you accept it and say "thank you very much," and then you say why you are deserving of such a compliment. If someone told him "You are one of the greatest ballplayers," Roberto would smile and say, "Thank you," and then tell why he thought he was. He didn't understand that wasn't the way players in this country would handle it. In the United states, if a guy gives you a compliment, you play the humility game. "Nah, I don't deserve that kind of praise." Humble pie stuff. In Puerto Rico, you have to support what they said. He knew he was good. No one ingratiated themselves to people more than I did, so I know how to play the humble role. I had grown up in an orphanage, so I was always trying to please people and be accepted."

"I watch him drift. Trapped. Or am I trapped, here in 1987, while he, through some malfunction of the universe, is borne into timelessness? What if I were to accompany him? "Wait!" I call. "There's something..." But Clemente has already drifted beyond hearing. I watch as he paddles, his back broad and strong. Just as the mist is about to engulf him, as ocean, fog, and sky merge, he waves his oar once, holding it like a baseball bat, thrusting it at the soft, white sky."

"I do remember my first impressions. It was the same impression I always had of Clemente. He was a very commanding man – commanding in manner of style and appearance. Even in the way he moved, he was commanding. And I was struck immediately with the fact that he had none of the sort of reticence that ballplayers are apt to have when talking to the commissioner – not at all. He spoke to the commissioner and everybody else as equals – that’s the way he was. And I don’t say that in any sense critically. It was refreshing and it was all done with excellent style. It was his commanding character that I will always remember about him as vividly today, all these years after his death, as at the beginning – commanding of everybody, particularly the ballplayers around him. He was the leader and nobody dared to be performing at less than his best as long as Clemente was looking."

"In professional sports, there is a tendency to see something that appears less than maximum effort. That is the legacy which I think he would have wanted to leave primarily – as a great professional who gave everything. Beyond that, I’m sure he would want to leave the legacy that there is an obligation, a further obligation, to be a role model. We hadn’t used that phrase in talking, but he was a marvelous role model – not only as a player but also as a human being and what he did for people. You could not find a greater athlete in terms of what he stood for and the impact he had on people than Clemente."

"For the two years I was there, it was hard to get close to Clemente. He would be invited to parties after games, but never attended. But it’s not like he disliked his teammates. And he showed a good sense of humor in the clubhouse – hiding your shoes or playing other practical jokes. Joe Christopher was one of his targets. But Joe was kind of easy to egg on. [...] For the time I was there, Clemente and Murtaugh got along very well. Of course, I was there at a very good time – in 1960 when we won the Series. Everybody got along then. There might have been a few harsh words between players once in a while, but no major problems."

"If Roberto Clemente could sing, he would make Harry Belafonte wish he could hit."

"He had tremendous faith in a chiropractor named Arturo Garcia, and he learned a lot from that man. Soon he was helping people himself, without publicity. One day while we were preparing the food for a special homage we gave him in the town of Corozal, a fellow whom I had known for quite some time told me, "The greatest favor of my life I owe to Roberto Clemente." I didn’t think Roberto knew him, but Roberto gave him a big abrazo and asked him how he felt. That’s when I learned that the man had been disabled and Roberto treated him for his injuries. The fellow was once a ship’s cook and he said, "I’m going to prepare this meal myself.""

"In the first two games of this Series, when the rest of the Pirates played like they were looking for a place to hide, Clemente stood out like a Cadillac in a junkyard. Everything he did was touched with class, from the way he hit the ball with authority to the way he played right field to the way he answered questions in the locker room. After Monday's humiliating 11-3 defeat on a rubbing table for half an hour surrounded by reporters and, when an equipment man came around and said, "bus leaves in 25 minutes, Bob," Clemente just said, "don't worry about it." He was ready to stay until the last writer was satisfied."

"Roberto’s carefree outlook on life began to change when the press started to misunderstand him when he talked about his injuries. When he was hurt he had trouble explaining himself because of the language problem and everyone thought he was jakin’. I don’t think he’s ever jaked. He just could do things when he was hurt as well as the rest of us could when we were healthy, and people would see this and decide he was dogging it. They thought he used the basket catch because Mays did and everything he did in the outfield was exciting, so right away to some writers he was a hot dog who jaked. Stories were written to that effect and he went through some years when he didn’t trust writers, and I don’t blame him. Some of them put words in your mouth and that’s what they did to him when he was younger. They tried to make him look like an ass by getting him to say controversial things and then they wrote how the Puerto Rican hot dog was popping off again. He was just learning to handle the language and he couldn’t express what he felt or thought and it frustrated him. Writers who couldn’t speak three words of Spanish tried to make him look silly, but he was an intelligent man who knows people and knows the game."

"For a long time he was a loner. People would ask, "Why doesn’t he go out with the rest of you?" Well, Clemente doesn’t go out, period. He watches TV, orders room service, sleeps. He enjoys that; that’s the type of guy he is. This year he’s changed some. We took him to a Chinese restaurant in Chicago, and he looked so happy. I think he was surprised he had such a good time. I said, "Momen, you have to do this more often." But he’s the kind of guy who’ll go out when he wants to... you can’t influence him. He’s too independent."

"You were an island Alone where the three rivers meet A beautiful fury, you moved like a fish Ranging that great, green sea Un boricua You were summer in The solitary skin, the tongue The arm of God The hand of gold Puerto Rico’s son"

"He was such a down-to-earth human being. Those of us in the minors would come in for dinner at 5:30 PM and leave an hour later when the big leaguers would have their meal. Roberto would stay outside the dining hall, chatting with us and sharing advice and crack a few jokes. Then we would tell Roberto the last call was made for the big leaguers to eat, but he would tell us: "The heck with the meal. I’ll eat somewhere else later in the evening. Let’s keep talking.""

"One thing stood out – through all the outbursts and the arguments and the controversies, it was almost impossible not to like the guy. I can remember the first time as a rookie that I had to interview him. He was polite and pleasant, as though he sensed my anxiety and was trying to make it easier for me. If the question was particularly penetrating, he might sit there for a moment with that quizzical, little-boy look on his face. But always there was an answer, and always it came from the heart."

"Dave Giusti was the player rep in 1972, but Roberto Clemente was the real leader of the clubhouse. He himself was known to stand up to the owners. Dave Giusti told me a Clemente story that I’ll always treasure. Pirates’ owner Dan Galbreath was in the locker room talking to the players. The club would draw better, he said, if the players signed more autographs and made more public appearances. Galbreath piled it on, claiming that the players weren’t appreciative enough of the fans. According to Giusti, the team had had enough, but nobody had the audacity to speak up. Finally, Clemente said, "Mr. Galbreath, I had a dream last night about this. I had a terrible neckache, and suddenly I had become so old and tired and injured that I could no longer play. But those wonderful fans out in right field banded together and said, ‘Even if the Great One can’t play, we can’t let him go. He belongs in right field.’ So the fans presented me with a rocking chair and said that I should sit comfortably between the stands and the right field foul line and relax all through my retirement." The rest of the Bucs didn’t know what to think. Was he buttering management up? Had he gone loco? But Clemente continued in his heavily accented English. "You know, Mr. Galbreath, what that dream is?" Galbreath hesitated. "No, what?" Clemente replied firmly, "It is boolsheet!" Everybody busted up. Except Galbreath."

"The year he spoke at the baseball dinner here is something I’ll never forget. It was one of the greatest speeches I ever heard. I'll remember that night as much as anything."

"Surgery is almost never indicated, Clemente argues – an opinion which may dismay his colleagues in the fellows of the American College of Surgery. But, of course, the march of medicine is no respecter of consulting fees. His clinic is strictly for the public weal. "I do not need the money – I am set for life. This is something I want to do to help humankind." The mark of a great physician is the confidence he can inspire in the patient. Clemente is as equal to this as Pasteur. “When I come to Los Angeles, I can make anyone you bring to me feel good with one treatment to the spine. I can even make you feel good.” If he can do that, he should go from the MVP to the Nobel Prize. The last fellow able to do that was the inventor of the martini. Still, you have to admit, not many people can handle curvature of the spine as well as curvature of the pitch."

"The side of Roberto that everybody missed was that he was a kind man. For all the deadpan (he rarely smiled), bluster and complaints (he never talked, he yelled), he was always available. God is getting an earful someplace today because Roberto is sure he was quick-pitched. The thing I like best is, you never heard of him doing a disreputable thing. The only thing Roberto slipped into his room at night was a book. You never found him having breakfast with a niece from Boston. The only thing he drank out of a bottle was patent medicine. I can’t believe he won’t come walking out of a clearing, bent over and holding his back and complaining that the swim was bad for his sciatica. If you see someone answering that description, throw him a bad pitch down around the ankles outside and, if he hits it screaming down the right field line, it can only be Clemente, and you’ll know reports of his condition have been grossly exaggerated once again."

"It’s sad, but there’s a myth in baseball that certain classes of players are more susceptible to fits of ‘dogging’ than others. This dread ballplayers’ palsy is widely believed to affect blacks more than whites, and Latins more than either. I have never seen anything to substantiate it, but the superstition is present in almost every locker room. For instance, Roberto Clemente did have a very capricious set of vertebral discs. He could play them for you like castanets – and would, on demand. But the grand old game was skeptical. “How can you bat .351 with a bad back?” the dugouts scoff. The point is Hemingway had to write best sellers standing up because of a bad back. John Kennedy had to run the country wearing a corset. But no one believed you could bat .351 with a bad back. Actually, Clemente himself fell into the trap one night when, speaking of Sandy Koufax’s reported sore arm, he asked a reporter irritably, “How can you strike out 15 batters a night with a sore arm?” Said the reporter gently, “Roberto, how can you bat .351 with a sore back?” Roberto got the point."

"I’ve often said he was the greatest player ballplayer I ever saw. I think it was typical of Roberto – a man who gave so much of himself to become an outstanding athlete – to give all of himself in an effort to help others less fortunate than himself. It was quite an honor to manage in the major leagues, bit it was a double honor to manage a superstar like Roberto … and he was a super star. He made his mark not only on baseball, but on everybody he touched."

"Roberto Clemente, to me, was a compassionate man. He was a man of two faces. In the clubhouse, he was the center of all the funny stories. He’d hold court in front of his locker and there was always gaiety and laughter. When the time came for the game, Roberto would put on his other face – the disturbed face he always wore when he was concentrating completely on winning a baseball game. That’s why I say the fans never knew the real Roberto Clemente."

"When he was approaching his 3,000th hit, I asked him if that would be the most important thing in his life. ‘No, Danny,’ he said. "I have a project going in Puerto Rico for the underprivileged and I have made so much progress with the political men in our country that I’m beginning to think my dream will come true." That’s the Roberto Clemente I know, who constantly thought of others instead of himself."

"Every sports fan admired and respected Roberto Clemente as one of the greatest baseball players of our time. In the tragedy of his untimely death, we are reminded that he deserved even greater respect and admiration for his splendid qualities as a generous and kind human being. He sacrificed his life on a mission of mercy. The best memorial we can build to his memory is to contribute generously for the relief of those he was trying to help – the earthquake victims in Nicaragua."

"We are here for the presentation of the first Presidential Citizens Medal, and I am very honored and this office is honored that that first medal – which we know will be awarded in the future to distinguished Americans for their service – that first medal goes to Roberto Clemente. I would like to read the citation, because it is better than any speech I could make, I think, with regard to Roberto Clemente: Citizens Medal Citation, Roberto Clemente: All who saw Roberto Clemente in action, whether on the diamond or on the front lines of charitable endeavor, are richer for the experience. He stands with that handful of men whose brilliance has transformed the game of baseball into a showcase of skill and spirit, giving universal delight and inspiration. More than that, his selfless dedication to helping those with two strikes against them in life blessed thousands and set an example for millions. As long as athletes and humanitarians are honored, Roberto Clemente’s memory will live; as long as Citizens Medals are presented, each will mean a little more because this first one went to him. [At this point, the President presented the medal to Mrs. Roberto Clemente. He then resumed speaking.] Let me say our only regret is that he isn’t here – but he’s really here – I think he is here in this room. Don’t you think so? I think he would be proud to be the first American to get this medal, too, the first one."

"Whenever runs into trouble with the English lingo, teammate Roberto Clemente serves as interpreter. Roberto digs real well. On the other hand, , Brooklyn hurler, has a good reason for not speaking English. "When North American players come to my country, they don't speak Spanish. Why should I speak English?""

"He told me in a three-hour conversation we had that people thought he was not sociable. They said this because he did not go out to parties and other affairs. "I don't drink and I don't speak English," he said. "I'm a wet blanket." He was hurt that people misunderstood him."

"When I started playing for the Pirates, he was a very loved guy by the other players. As great as Stargell was, Stargell just looked at him in awe. When Clemente walked into the room, everything came to life. He respected everyone. He made you feel at ease. I was not an invited player when I came to my first Pirates camp. I was just there for a look-see, not as a serious candidate for the club. But he acknowledged me and he respected me."

"He was over all the time, all the time! He would stand outside and playfully throw rocks at the house. Roberto would always tease me. He liked to tell me that I couldn't cook. I couldn't cook. He and Curtis would sit there and eat half-cooked food, playing cards and drinking beer, pop, lemonade, whatever. Roberto loved to joke, he was really just a big kid. [...] Roberto and Curt were very close. Roberto would stay at the house all day long until it was time to go to the ballpark. Roberto and Curt would sit around and talk and joke in Spanish. Robert [sic] would look at me with that boyish smile ... he liked to make me think they were joking about me, or talking about some other girl. But he would always break down laughing, and tell me what he and Curtis had been saying. Roberto naturally gravitated to someone who could understand him. Even though we were all kids back then, I think Roberto looked at Curtis as something of a mentor."

"That's really sad, isn't it? It's really sad in a lot of ways, but you know I was thinking that if he were going to die at an early age, it’s good in a sense that he died trying to help people less fortunate. You know, a lot of guys talk about how they’d like to help less fortunate people and give lip service to that. But here’s a guy leaving his family during the holiday season to try to go some place and be kind to people. I think that tells you a lot about what kind of man he was. I met him a couple of times and he was quiet but very manly, and extraordinarily nice. I try to remember people, especially people I get to know a little bit, as they were as people, not by what they did. When I think of Roberto Clemente in the future, I’ll be thinking about him as an extraordinarily nice man who died while trying to help other people."

"Aside from playing baseball myself over the years, the culture of identifying with star baseball players and my hometown team is an inextricable part of my boyhood. As a young boy playing and watching baseball, I learned the value of hard work, the importance of teamwork, how to deal with success and failure, how to concentrate and stay focused on a goal, and how to look beyond personal achievement to something bigger than oneself. Roberto Clemente embodied all these virtues."

"By chance I met Clemente once, in the humble role of autograph-seeker. He was doing wind sprints down at the Pirate training camp in Bradenton, Florida. And although I claimed I was getting an autograph for my son (true, for a change), he looked at me with a hidalgo’s contempt – at a grown man simpering over a blunt pencil; he turned his back abruptly and did another wind sprint, then slashed his name onto my scorecard and sauntered away. To hell with you, Clemente, I thought. But on the way out, I saw him funning with three old ladies from Allentown, Pennsylvania, and I have never seen sweeter courtesy. Arrogance and gentleness. Where did it come from? Clemente was like a Martian to most North Americans, and written about as such."

"Standing still as a statue in the October shadows, he looked, grotesquely, more like a patriot than anything usually seen on a baseball field. A trick of light perhaps. Yet what famous athlete last died for a cause bigger than himself? Clemente could sometimes seem like a pest, a nagging narcissist, with only his burningly serious play to deny it. Yet when that plane crashed carrying relief supplies to Nicaragua we saw what he had meant all along. It was like the old Clemente crashing into the right field wall in a losing game: the act of a totally serious man."

"My locker was next to Bobby’s for the entire six years I played with the Pirates. I watched him and listened to him on a daily basis. He had great pride in being Latin. He consistently brought this to people’s attention. Each year he played winter ball at his hometown of San Juan, not for the money but because he felt he owed it to his town folk. One winter I pitched for him when he managed the San Juan club. I met his wife and children to whom he was deeply devoted. Although a national hero in Puerto Rico and this country, he never took on the air of being a celebrity. He was always just one of the guys, yet separate. I never saw Bobby drunk, disorderly or chasing women, as I did other guys. I always believed he felt the obligation and responsibility of being a major league baseball player was to set an example for the public."

"The man was a man in every true sense. He was proud, dedicated. He wouldn't want anyone to give him anything. Yet he never had a national commercial, was on only one talk show, , and he never made any appearances in the Pittsburgh area. Blacks get the trophies . . . whites get the money."

"I’m an observing type of person, and there was no one I loved to watch more than Roberto. I learned a lot about him. I watched his reactions to a variety of everyday game situations. A silent, strong type, Clemente vicariously taught me a lot about life and baseball. I hear talking all the time, but words do not always translate to action. That’s why I feel observation is often the best way to learn about someone. I’m more interested in what a person does than what he says, and Roberto did a lot."

"I remember we were up in Montreal one time. Something happened to my back and I couldn’t play. I was left in the clubhouse for treatment. Roberto didn’t play the first game. He stayed in the clubhouse through the entire game and gave me an ice rubdown. He put this cold ice in his bare hands and would rub and apply pressure to different areas of my back. He said I would be able to play the next day based on things he had learned. It must have been about forty minutes of constant rubbing with that ice. We all know when you put ice in your hand for any period of time, you must release that ice after about five minutes at the most. But he was so into what he was doing, it didn’t faze him at all."

"He was so intense in terms of doing something to make me feel better. I felt great, and the next night I played. He didn’t have to do that, but he did it. And he wanted to do it in such a way that very few people, if any, knew about it other than the two of us. That was just one of the many things he did. And it’s those kinds of things that separate him from most people."

"The shivering fans in the stands took their hands out of their pockets to applaud Roberto Clemente for a small, but at the same time very large, sympathetic act. During batting practice, a little boy in the right-field stands was hit in the arm by a line drive. He then hid among the seats to have his little cry. Clemente retrieved the ball and gave it away, his thanks coming in a puddle of tears."

"He’d try to help you and talk to you about the way to play baseball and the way to handle yourself in society and to represent your country. He was the type of guy who would just sit with you and talk – do this, do that. In my life, besides my mom and father, I’d met no person who meant so much to me. People say he was moody, he was this and that. But he would say the truth – he told you the truth. He never tried to hide anything from anybody."

"He always liked kids. I had one long conversation with him, and he told me what he wanted to do in Puerto Rico. He had this dream to build a special Sports City for the kids, especially the poor kids. I always talked to kids, and he was that type of person, too, so we had something in common in that respect. Maybe he recognized that, and maybe that’s why he talked to me at length about what he wanted to do in his home country. He was a moody guy. He was very quiet. He had two strikes against him when he first came up. He didn't speak or understand English very well, and he was a loner. That guy from the Post office – the one who got into trouble a few years ago for stealing and selling stamps – he was always with him. I think he was genuine in his thinking. He cared for people. But like I said, I only spent four years with him, when he wasn't really into his own yet."

"Roberto Clemente was deeply committed to the Sports City idea – the idea of bringing to the children of Puerto Rico a place where they could all be together and play the game of their choice. It was the subject of the last long conversation I had with him. “I need your help,” he told me at the house of Felipe Rodríguez, the singer. It was my son’s baptismal day, and Clemente had come to the small fiesta following the service. We can get the best people. Help me,” he said. Then he went on to tell me about the mechanics of how his Sports City would work. “You and Carlos can come here once in a while to motivate these kids to boxing. Orlando Cepeda and I can do the same thing for the ones who like baseball. Charley Passarell in tennis, Chi Chi Rodriguez in golf…” And he went on through all the sports."

"He did not just lend his name to the fund-raising activities the way some famous personalities do. He took over the entire thing, arranging for collection points, publicity and the transportation to Nicaragua."

"I knew Roberto was a man – perhaps the only man – who could give enough of himself to make this work. The city agreed to give us Sixto Escobar Stadium as a staging area. I put Roberto on my show and he told them: "Bring what you can. Bring medicine ... clothes ... food ... shoes ... bring yourself to help us load ... trust me – whatever you bring we will use.""

"My wife and I spent a week with Roberto in Puerto Rico, and it was quite an experience. It was in the middle of winter, and the home was wide open. They didn't need any screens on the windows, because there were no insects on the island. And the temperature was so mild that it was comfortable sleeping like that. During the day, he took us up in the mountains. When we stopped, people in the village there brought him some shrimp that were as big as lobsters. They all recognized him, and they all wanted to bring him gifts. Roberto wanted to be the Babe Ruth of Puerto Rico, someone who could inspire other kids on the island to do something with their lives. In a way, he did that, even though he died too young."

"The man saved my life. It's ingrained in my memory to this day. I don't know what Neil's regimen is every day at the park, but I'm sure when he looks out to that Roberto Clemente wall in right field, he probably thinks about that too."

"The unconnected letters show creativeness [sic]. The downward T-bar stroke shows the ability to be critical, skeptical, wants things proved to him. His writing shows great pride, great ambition, also a love of music, of beautiful things."

"Someone once said that if Roberto Clemente could sing, Harry Belafonte would have to learn to hit a baseball for a living, and it’s true. Clemente has more than a well-made face and a hipless physique; he has eyes that sparkle, a smile that captivates and a Puerto Rican accent that sings. When he tells a story, he tells it with a zest that fills the room – and you listen and like him. Governor Wallace would like him."

"Roberto defended the cause of the Latins, especially the dark-skinned Latins, and they owe him a lot. Clemente wasn’t a star after he got his 3,000th hit, he was a star a couple of years after he rose to the big leagues. But the press denied him the credit he deserved. I think this made him try to prove that a Puerto Rican was as good as anyone in America and could do what a Babe Ruth or a Ted Williams had done, that this wasn’t a game exclusively for people from Pennsylvania, Alabama, and New Jersey, that in Puerto Rico, this tiny little country, there are great men, too, in every sense of the word."