Baptists From The United States

"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."

"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."

"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."

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

"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 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."

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"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.""

"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."

"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."

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

"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."

"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."

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

"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 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?"

"Ball four!"

"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."