"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."