I grew up as a Pirates fan, as did many in Columbus when the Columbus Jets were a Pittsburgh Pirates minor league club.
During my recent trip to Pittsburgh, I visited the sports museum there and saw lots of stuff about the Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell era and relived a lot of memories. Clemente was an incredible baseball player and gave a lot back to his native country and its poor. I am amazed at this debate.
PEERS, SUPPORTERS HOPE TO HONOR CLEMENTE BY RETIRING HIS NO. 21
Posted 7/12/2006 1:40 AM
By Jorge L. Ortiz, USA TODAY http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/allstar/2006-07-12-clemente_x.htm
PITTSBURGH — Roberto Clemente's presence in this city remains vivid nearly 34 years after his death.
A Clemente statue outside PNC Park stands guard next to the bridge named after him. His picture on display windows and on fliers advertising memorabilia sales, as well as the fans wearing his retro uniform, serve as reminders of the legendary Pirates right fielder, who perished in a plane crash on New Year's Eve 1972 while taking relief supplies to earthquake-ravaged Managua, Nicaragua.
Commissioner Bud Selig interrupted Tuesday's All-Star Game in the fourth inning to pay homage to Clemente by presenting his widow and two of their three sons the Commissioner's Achievement Award. Players from both the American and National League All-Star teams wore yellow wristbands displaying Clemente's initials.
MLB also hands out a yearly award in his name to the player who best combines on-field performance with humanitarian work, and it holds a Roberto Clemente Day at every ballpark in September.
But for about a year, a group of Latino activists has lobbied for MLB to go a step further and confer on Clemente a distinction accorded only one other player by retiring his No. 21 from all the teams, as baseball did with Jackie Robinson's No. 42 in 1997.
Most recently the cause has been taken up by another group led by Julio Pabon, president of the marketing company Latino Sports, which held a news conference Tuesday at what's supposed to be the future site of a Clemente museum. They've launched the website www.retire21.org and hope to collect signatures and present them to Selig in October.
While pointing out the family is not involved in the campaign, Clemente's second-eldest son, Luis Roberto, said they're pleased with the renewed efforts to retire the number.
"We support the cause because it's a worthwhile honor, not because my dad was another player with great records, but because of what he taught us as a human being — not tolerating any social discrimination, supporting the working class, the needy," he said.
Selig said in a statement the matter "is still under advisement."
"The memory of Roberto as both a player and as a humanitarian is very meaningful to all of us in Major League Baseball," Selig says.
Line was already broken
The proposal has drawn opposition from Robinson's daughter, Sharon, who told the New York Daily News in January that making such a move would be "diluting the original purpose" of the singular tribute paid to her father, who became baseball's first black player in 1947 and died in 1972.
Both Robinson and Clemente command such admiration that exalting one at the perceived expense of the other evokes conflicting emotions among baseball people.
Chicago White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen, who has a shrine to Clemente in his home in Caracas, Venezuela, is among those who are torn.
"If you're going to retire Roberto Clemente's number, then there's a lot of good ballplayers who went through the major leagues and they're going to ask for the same treatment," Guillen says. "I wish they would do it, but it's kind of a tough call."
Part of the argument against the proposal stems from the fact Clemente was not the first Latino player in the majors — Cuban-born infielder Esteban Bellan made his debut with the Troy Haymakers of the National Association in 1871 — or even the first Puerto Rican to reach the bigs. Pitcher Hiram Bithorn, for whom the baseball stadium in San Juan is named, joined the Chicago Cubs in 1942. Clemente came up in 1955.
Nobody but Robinson deserves the honor, the argument goes, because his role in breaking the color barrier was a unique feat that benefited a large group, including dark-skinned Latinos.
"Because of Jackie Robinson's sacrifice and the quality of person and player he was, Clemente and the rest of us could come along later," says San Francisco Giants manager Felipe Alou, who was close to Clemente and favors his number's retirement.
Clemente's impact as a pioneer was more limited in scope, as he became what biographer David Maraniss calls "the patron saint of Latino ballplayers."
Hispanic players in the 1950s and '60s regularly faced much of the same discrimination as their African-American peers — refusal of service at hotels and restaurants and slurs, taunts and even physical threats — as well as ridicule in the media for their rudimentary command of the English language. Alvin Dark, the Giants manager in the early '60s, went as far as banning Spanish in the clubhouse.
"In 1959, Felipe, my brother and I went to a restaurant in Pittsburgh, and when we went in we were told they already had enough people to wash the dishes. They kicked us out," says Hall of Famer Orlando Cepeda, who was warned by the Giants against dating white women.
Didn't accept discrimination
Clemente was the first Latino superstar with the stature and fortitude to speak out against the treatment, and his principled stance is cited as a reason the waves of Latino players who followed him found more acceptance. Nearly 25% of the players who began this season on major league rosters were born in Latin American countries.
"I've never run into anybody in the game that had the dimensions beyond being a ballplayer that he had. Nobody close," says Pirates broadcaster Steve Blass, Clemente's teammate from 1964-72.
"Not only did us white guys have him on a pedestal, but they (the Latino players) had him on a pedestal too. They knew exactly what he represented. It was never compromised. To have that integrity, hell, we all admired that."
A lifetime .317 hitter who produced 3,000 hits, Clemente won four batting titles, the 1966 National League MVP award and 12 Gold Gloves in an 18-year career. To this day his throwing arm remains the gold standard for right fielders. Three months after his death at 38, he became the first Latino elected to the Hall of Fame, through a special ballot after the mandatory five-year waiting period was waived.
As with Robinson, inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1962, Clemente's case for a unique distinction goes beyond his accomplishments on the field.
Besides championing the cause of his fellow Latino players, Clemente was frequently involved in charitable activities and baseball clinics, especially in Pittsburgh and Puerto Rico. In both places and throughout Latin America, he's remembered as a martyr for the way he died.
Is that enough to merit having his number universally retired?
Two current managers with strong Pittsburgh ties — and still residents of the city — offer differing viewpoints.
Oakland Athletics manager Ken Macha grew up a Pirates fan in the Steel City and attended the 1960 and 1971 World Series — Clemente hit safely in all 14 games of those series and was named MVP of the latter — before signing with the club in 1972.
He's all for No. 21's retirement.
"I think it's a great idea," Macha says. "There's been certain players who paved the way, not just for African-Americans but for the Latin American people too. He certainly comes to my mind foremost."
Detroit Tigers skipper Jim Leyland, who managed the Pirates from 1986-96 and is back home during the break, says he doesn't oppose the move. Like Guillen, though, he sounds a warning.
"I think you have to be careful, because then you're going to have a case for another guy and another guy," Leyland says. "And sooner or later, if those kinds of situations get too crowded, the significance doesn't remain as important as it really is."
Maraniss and Blass are among those who say Clemente doesn't need to have his number retired throughout baseball for his memory to linger. For years Latino players, especially Puerto Ricans such as Candy Maldonado, Carlos Delgado and Ruben Sierra, have worn No. 21 as a tribute to him.
Alou, though, is concerned time will relegate Clemente's deeds to oblivion.
"The more time passes and fewer voices are raised, those heroes, those pioneers, those great men will vanish into the past," Alou says. "A better player might come along, but a person who lived and died the way he did would be hard to find."
During my recent trip to Pittsburgh, I visited the sports museum there and saw lots of stuff about the Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell era and relived a lot of memories. Clemente was an incredible baseball player and gave a lot back to his native country and its poor. I am amazed at this debate.
PEERS, SUPPORTERS HOPE TO HONOR CLEMENTE BY RETIRING HIS NO. 21
Posted 7/12/2006 1:40 AM
By Jorge L. Ortiz, USA TODAY http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/allstar/2006-07-12-clemente_x.htm
PITTSBURGH — Roberto Clemente's presence in this city remains vivid nearly 34 years after his death.
A Clemente statue outside PNC Park stands guard next to the bridge named after him. His picture on display windows and on fliers advertising memorabilia sales, as well as the fans wearing his retro uniform, serve as reminders of the legendary Pirates right fielder, who perished in a plane crash on New Year's Eve 1972 while taking relief supplies to earthquake-ravaged Managua, Nicaragua.
Commissioner Bud Selig interrupted Tuesday's All-Star Game in the fourth inning to pay homage to Clemente by presenting his widow and two of their three sons the Commissioner's Achievement Award. Players from both the American and National League All-Star teams wore yellow wristbands displaying Clemente's initials.
MLB also hands out a yearly award in his name to the player who best combines on-field performance with humanitarian work, and it holds a Roberto Clemente Day at every ballpark in September.
But for about a year, a group of Latino activists has lobbied for MLB to go a step further and confer on Clemente a distinction accorded only one other player by retiring his No. 21 from all the teams, as baseball did with Jackie Robinson's No. 42 in 1997.
Most recently the cause has been taken up by another group led by Julio Pabon, president of the marketing company Latino Sports, which held a news conference Tuesday at what's supposed to be the future site of a Clemente museum. They've launched the website www.retire21.org and hope to collect signatures and present them to Selig in October.
While pointing out the family is not involved in the campaign, Clemente's second-eldest son, Luis Roberto, said they're pleased with the renewed efforts to retire the number.
"We support the cause because it's a worthwhile honor, not because my dad was another player with great records, but because of what he taught us as a human being — not tolerating any social discrimination, supporting the working class, the needy," he said.
Selig said in a statement the matter "is still under advisement."
"The memory of Roberto as both a player and as a humanitarian is very meaningful to all of us in Major League Baseball," Selig says.
Line was already broken
The proposal has drawn opposition from Robinson's daughter, Sharon, who told the New York Daily News in January that making such a move would be "diluting the original purpose" of the singular tribute paid to her father, who became baseball's first black player in 1947 and died in 1972.
Both Robinson and Clemente command such admiration that exalting one at the perceived expense of the other evokes conflicting emotions among baseball people.
Chicago White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen, who has a shrine to Clemente in his home in Caracas, Venezuela, is among those who are torn.
"If you're going to retire Roberto Clemente's number, then there's a lot of good ballplayers who went through the major leagues and they're going to ask for the same treatment," Guillen says. "I wish they would do it, but it's kind of a tough call."
Part of the argument against the proposal stems from the fact Clemente was not the first Latino player in the majors — Cuban-born infielder Esteban Bellan made his debut with the Troy Haymakers of the National Association in 1871 — or even the first Puerto Rican to reach the bigs. Pitcher Hiram Bithorn, for whom the baseball stadium in San Juan is named, joined the Chicago Cubs in 1942. Clemente came up in 1955.
Nobody but Robinson deserves the honor, the argument goes, because his role in breaking the color barrier was a unique feat that benefited a large group, including dark-skinned Latinos.
"Because of Jackie Robinson's sacrifice and the quality of person and player he was, Clemente and the rest of us could come along later," says San Francisco Giants manager Felipe Alou, who was close to Clemente and favors his number's retirement.
Clemente's impact as a pioneer was more limited in scope, as he became what biographer David Maraniss calls "the patron saint of Latino ballplayers."
Hispanic players in the 1950s and '60s regularly faced much of the same discrimination as their African-American peers — refusal of service at hotels and restaurants and slurs, taunts and even physical threats — as well as ridicule in the media for their rudimentary command of the English language. Alvin Dark, the Giants manager in the early '60s, went as far as banning Spanish in the clubhouse.
"In 1959, Felipe, my brother and I went to a restaurant in Pittsburgh, and when we went in we were told they already had enough people to wash the dishes. They kicked us out," says Hall of Famer Orlando Cepeda, who was warned by the Giants against dating white women.
Didn't accept discrimination
Clemente was the first Latino superstar with the stature and fortitude to speak out against the treatment, and his principled stance is cited as a reason the waves of Latino players who followed him found more acceptance. Nearly 25% of the players who began this season on major league rosters were born in Latin American countries.
"I've never run into anybody in the game that had the dimensions beyond being a ballplayer that he had. Nobody close," says Pirates broadcaster Steve Blass, Clemente's teammate from 1964-72.
"Not only did us white guys have him on a pedestal, but they (the Latino players) had him on a pedestal too. They knew exactly what he represented. It was never compromised. To have that integrity, hell, we all admired that."
A lifetime .317 hitter who produced 3,000 hits, Clemente won four batting titles, the 1966 National League MVP award and 12 Gold Gloves in an 18-year career. To this day his throwing arm remains the gold standard for right fielders. Three months after his death at 38, he became the first Latino elected to the Hall of Fame, through a special ballot after the mandatory five-year waiting period was waived.
As with Robinson, inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1962, Clemente's case for a unique distinction goes beyond his accomplishments on the field.
Besides championing the cause of his fellow Latino players, Clemente was frequently involved in charitable activities and baseball clinics, especially in Pittsburgh and Puerto Rico. In both places and throughout Latin America, he's remembered as a martyr for the way he died.
Is that enough to merit having his number universally retired?
Two current managers with strong Pittsburgh ties — and still residents of the city — offer differing viewpoints.
Oakland Athletics manager Ken Macha grew up a Pirates fan in the Steel City and attended the 1960 and 1971 World Series — Clemente hit safely in all 14 games of those series and was named MVP of the latter — before signing with the club in 1972.
He's all for No. 21's retirement.
"I think it's a great idea," Macha says. "There's been certain players who paved the way, not just for African-Americans but for the Latin American people too. He certainly comes to my mind foremost."
Detroit Tigers skipper Jim Leyland, who managed the Pirates from 1986-96 and is back home during the break, says he doesn't oppose the move. Like Guillen, though, he sounds a warning.
"I think you have to be careful, because then you're going to have a case for another guy and another guy," Leyland says. "And sooner or later, if those kinds of situations get too crowded, the significance doesn't remain as important as it really is."
Maraniss and Blass are among those who say Clemente doesn't need to have his number retired throughout baseball for his memory to linger. For years Latino players, especially Puerto Ricans such as Candy Maldonado, Carlos Delgado and Ruben Sierra, have worn No. 21 as a tribute to him.
Alou, though, is concerned time will relegate Clemente's deeds to oblivion.
"The more time passes and fewer voices are raised, those heroes, those pioneers, those great men will vanish into the past," Alou says. "A better player might come along, but a person who lived and died the way he did would be hard to find."
