When I was nine years old, my favorite baseball team, the Baltimore Orioles, made it to the World Series for the third consecutive year. They were the defending champions, had won over 100 games and they had four 20 game winners in their starting rotation. Their opponents in the World Series that year were the Pittsburgh Pirates. Even though the Orioles were favored, I knew that the Pirates were no joke. In fact, they had the second highest team batting average in baseball that year. It was a classic match up of good hitting vs. good pitching. To make a long story short (as well as to avoid opening some old wounds), the Pirates won that series in seven games, and they owed that championship to one player. Along with Hank Aaron and Willie Mays, he was probably the best outfielder of his era. His name was Roberto Clemente.
This year marks the 60th anniversary of Roberto Clemente's first season in the major leagues. Tim Kirkjian from ESPN put together a nice segment on him a few months ago marking the occasion. Clemente would be celebrating his 81st birthday on August 18th were it not for his untimely passing. So now you understand the motivation for this post.
I actually had a chance to meet Clemente when the Pirates came to Miami to play the Orioles during spring training in March, 1972. My Little League team was also called the Pirates. My coach was from Puerto Rico, and he had played semi-pro baseball there prior to joining the army. He took his son and me to that game and we got there early enough to try and get some autographs. The next thing I know my coach was able to get Clemente's attention by saying something to him in Spanish. Five minutes later, my buddy Juan and I are standing next to this baseball legend getting our picture taken. Somewhere in my house I have the color photograph. This is the black and white one that appeared in our base newspaper. I remember I was way too shy to mutter anything more than a "thank you" after my coach snapped off a couple shots. I also recall that Clemente's hands were gigantic for a man of his size (5'11", 175 lbs). But besides that, even at nine years old I had the feeling that I was standing next to someone who was more than just a great baseball player. Over the next year, I came to find out how right I was about that.The 1972 baseball season turned out to be Roberto Clemente's last. In what was his final game, he became only the 11th player at the time to reach 3,000 career hits when he doubled into left field off Jon Matlack of the New York Mets. Fittingly, he acknowledged the crowd's ovation with just a humble tip of his cap. That's the kind of player he was.
Three months later, Roberto Clemente lost his life in a tragic plane crash. On December 23rd, 1972, an earthquake measuring 6.2 in magnitude struck Nicaragua. More than 6,000 people died and over 250,000 were left without shelter. From his home in Puerto Rico, Clemente immediately became involved helping with the relief efforts. He organized three flights to Nicaragua to get food and supplies to the victims. However, he later learned that they had been diverted by corrupt officials in the Nicaraguan government. When he set up the fourth flight, Clemente decided to accompany it himself to ensure the supplies got to the people who needed them. Unfortunately, the DC-7 cargo plane was overloaded by over two tons with relief supplies. The maintenance record on the plane was also a little sketchy. It stalled on take off and crashed off the coast of Puerto Rico on Dec. 31st, 1972. Clemente's body was never recovered.
When I heard the news, I just couldn't believe it. That was the first time in my life where I recall that someone whom I had met had died less than a year later. It really had an effect on me. After that, I began reading everything I could get my hands on related to Roberto Clemente, and that's when I came to understand that what he accomplished on the baseball diamond was just a small part of his life's story.
Clemente was proud of his Puerto Rican heritage, but he also saw himself representing all of Latin America. Outside of baseball, he was committed to reaching out to help those in need, especially children. Now you may be wondering how this makes him different from any other athlete that supports a particular cause. I think the biggest reason is because Clemente spent virtually all of his time in the off season helping the less fortunate in his home country and throughout Latin America. He didn't just make appearances here and there. Clemente was completely devoted to helping others through his charity work and he was tireless in this pursuit. He was once quoted as saying, "Anytime you have an opportunity to make a difference in this world and you don't, then you are wasting your time on this earth." To me this indicated that Clemente viewed his role as a true calling. He never forgot his roots, and as his fame as a baseball player grew, he maintained a tremendous sense of empathy for those less fortunate. It is a quality present in all true humanitarians. But sadly, there are rare occasions such as this one where tragedy strikes, resulting in one of them being taken from our world way before his time.
It has been nearly 43 years since Roberto Clemente's death, but his memory continues to live on in Major League baseball. His number 21 was retired by the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1973. That same year, the Baseball Writers Association of America waived the customary five year waiting period for induction into the Hall of Fame and voted Clemente in on the first ballot. He was the first Hispanic player to have a plaque at Cooperstown. Even today, his presence is felt at Heinz Field, the Pirates' home stadium. The right field wall is exactly 21 feet high to match his number, and is appropriately called the Clemente Wall. But even more impressive is how he continues to be revered for his humanitarian work. The award given to the major league player each year who has demonstrated a commitment to humanitarian causes is now called the Roberto Clemente award. And in 2003, he was posthumously awarded the our nation's highest civilian honor, Presidential Medal of Freedom. It's just recognition for a man widely acknowledged as one of the greatest humanitarians in all of sports, but had he been alive to accept the award, my guess is that Roberto Clemente would have just humbly nodded in appreciation and then gone right back to helping those in need.
Until next time . . .
Karl
