Roberto Clemente: Premonitions and his 3,000th hit
All countries need heroes. Puerto Rico, a U.S. colony since 1898, is no exception. The island has always been divided by social, political and religious reasons. During the 1960s and early 1970s it seemed that islanders were always united by one person – their national hero, Roberto Clemente.
From the moment he was proclaimed the 1971 World Series Most Valuable Player, he became “The Man” on the island. In the 1972 season, he needed only 118 more hits to reach the significant goal of 3,000 career hits.
“My 3,000th, I have to get it this season.”
Clemente, the stellar Pirates right fielder, would become the 11th player in history and first Latin American to reach that lofty 3,000-hit pinnacle. He was aware of what it would mean to fans of the game and Puerto Ricans in particular. One evening, during spring training in his Pirate City room in Bradenton, Fla., he told me, “My 3,000th, I have to get it this season.”
Prior to Pittsburgh’s game in Atlanta, Georgia, on Friday, July 7, 1972 – while showing me his swollen ankles – he emphasized again, “I need my 3,000th this year. I would like to see many fans in the stands waving Puerto Rican flags when I get it.”
Awaiting History
To this day I’ve wondered if he had a premonition. On Dec. 31, 1972, he perished on a cargo plane, which was loaded with supplies for recent earthquake victims in Nicaragua, that crashed in the Atlantic Ocean shortly after takeoff from the Puerto Rico International Airport.
Along with former major league pitcher Jose “Palillo” Santiago, I was a member of the broadcast team following Clemente’s journey toward his goal. We arrived in Pittsburgh the evening of Thursday, Sept. 28.
His hit total stood at 2,999. Prior to the Mets-Pirates game the next day, we chatted with Clemente for a while. He was his usual self, friendly and talkative until he began dressing for the game. Jose and I then left the clubhouse as we knew it was time for him to put on his game face, which would project sheer determination.
That night in a 1-0 loss to Tom Seaver and the Mets, Roberto went 0 for 4. In his first at-bat in the first inning, he hit a disputed chopper to second base. Immediately, the scoreboard indicated a hit. Fans began to erupt in applause. Seconds later, the scoreboard flashed “error” and the disappointed fans booed. Official scorer Luke Quay ruled it an error.
It is my understanding that the scoreboard could have jumped the gun in calling it a hit. After the game, Roberto told us, “Well, maybe it will be tomorrow, but I have not been sleeping well lately with so many phone calls and requests coming my way.”
Roberto and his wife, Vera, always said that for him to sleep well he needed peace of mind and a pitch black room.
The Hit
Sept. 30, 1972, was a cloudy and drizzly day. Before the game, Clemente was relaxed. He joked with us for a while, not unlike he would do any other day. He said to me, “When I get the hit, I’ll be out of the game the following inning. Come down to the clubhouse so we can talk.”
At 3:07 PM, in the bottom of the fourth inning, with Mets lefty Jon Matlack on the mound, he hit a liner reaching the left-center field fence on one hop. His 3,000th hit was a double.
I quickly headed down to the clubhouse while Terry Garcia and Santiago continued the radio broadcast to Puerto Rico.
Clubhouse manager “Hully” Hallahan, let me in and I saw Clemente sitting on a stool in front of his locker. We hugged and I gave him a kiss on the right side of his neck. He looked at me quizzically. Then I told him, “I spoke to your mom on the phone from Puerto Rico and she asked me to give you the kiss on her behalf.” He then smiled with enthusiasm.
Minutes later, he stated, “Chico, I felt so uncomfortable when all those people applauded me. I dedicate this hit to my friend Roberto Marin, the man who discovered me and to the fans here in Pittsburgh and Puerto Rico who always support me.”
Later in the clubhouse, he told New York writers Dick Young and Milton Richman, “I always feel bashful when I get a big ovation like I got today.”
That evening in his Green Tree apartment in suburban Pittsburgh, we enjoyed a great meal with his wife, Vera, and some 10 friends.
Among the friends was Puerto Rico’s head of the Sports and Recreation Department, Dora Matos de Pasarell. She had come to Pittsburgh the day before Roberto’s 3,000th hit. She brought with her the coveted “Governor’s Cup,” a most prestigious award instituted by Governor Luis A. Ferre, which would be awarded to him for reaching his goal.
“Now they know what kind of player I am.”
I still recall how talkative Clemente was that night at dinner. He joked a lot and had us laughing with a surprising consistency for well over an hour. He was relaxed and truly happy. He was proud of the accomplishment and excited that the Pirates were about to head into postseason action.
Several hours later, in a separate room while getting ready to visit Pirates owner John Galbreath, he told his close friend Phil Dorsey and me, “Now they know what kind of player I am.”
During a pregame ceremony on Oct. 1, 1972, Roberto was presented with the Governor’s Cup. Additionally, I had the honor of presenting him with an award that contained a clod of earth from the field in Carolina, Puerto Rico, where he had played as a kid.
Throughout the years, I have tried to analyze what was on his mind the two times he told me that year, “My 3,000th hit, I have to get it this year.”
He died 92 days after reaching his goal. Clemente and his legacy continue to inspire millions of fans everywhere.
Featured Image: Bettman
Inset Image: Courtesy of the Pittsburgh Pirates