Baptists From The United States

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

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

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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!"

"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."

"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."

"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."

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

"[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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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..."

"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."

"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."

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

"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.."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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 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.”"

"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]."