Recalling Roberto

Even a diehard fan would struggle in coming up with the name of the pitcher who gave up Willie Mays’ 3000th hit. (It was a right-hander named Mike Wegener, who was pitching for the Montreal Expos.) Similarly, most fans probably don’t remember the identity of the pitcher who surrendered Hank Aaron’s 3,000th. (It was Wayne Simpson, a onetime phenom with the Cincinnati Reds who soon ran into arm problems, short-circuiting his promising career.)

In the case of Roberto Clemente’s 3,000th hit, the man who would become linked with the Hall of Famer’s milestone is far better known than Wegener or Simpson. His name is Jonathan Trumpbour Matlack, better known as Jon Matlack, a pitcher who developed his own identity and reputation during the 1970s. A Rookie of the Year Award, three All-Star Game selections, and an All-Star Game MVP will make you memorable, particularly to fans of the New York Mets.

Now 65 and at least momentarily retired from baseball, Matlack visited the Hall of Fame in September to take part in a special program titled “Ya’ Gotta Believe.” Speaking in front of an enthusiastic crowd of loyal Clemente supporters and rabid Mets fans, a thoughtful Matlack discussed his own career, the fortunes of the surprising 1973 Mets, the influence of managers Gil Hodges and Yogi Berra, and the circumstances surrounding the milestone hit collected by Clemente 43 years ago.

In stark contrast to today’s game, in which milestone moments are often marked by game-stopping ceremonies, there was less attention paid to a 3,000th hit in 1972. Yes, it was noted and discussed, but without the same fervor attached to similar moments in the modern day. As such, Matlack and other members of the Mets were oblivious to the achievement – at least initially.

Once Matlack understood that history had been made by Clemente, he realized that he had more work to do.

There was not a whole lot of thought other than, ‘It has happened.’ I’m going to be in the history books somewhere for allowing hit No. 3,000.”

On another level, none of the players knew that Clemente would never again register a hit in regular season play, due to the tragic circumstances that would befall him that winter.

“Being a bad ball hitter, a good pitch down in the zone off the plate was probably the best way to go. You’d hope he would hit a ground ball to short, a ground ball to second, something like that. A mistake with an off-speed pitch where he’s have a chance to adjust, keep his hands back, see the ball and realize that he could get to it, was a pitch that he was more apt to hit. Make quality pitches down in the zone and stay ahead in the count was the best rule of thumb with Clemente.”

When asked if a pitcher might be advised to throw Clemente an inside fastball as a way of intimidating him, Matlack offered a quick response, followed by a laugh. “Backing him off the plate with a fastball was one of the things you didn’t want to do with him. That might make his focus just that more sharp. There were a few guys in the league that obviously you could intimidate with inside pitches. But he was not one of them.”

“I did have a chance to talk to him when I played winter ball the winter before [the 3,000th hit], when I went down to winter ball in San Juan.” Matlack recalled. “He invited the American players over to his home for a meal and some conversation. It was quite a lot of fun. He seemed like an extremely nice, very personable kind of guy.”

After dinner, Matlack and the other players congregated in Clemente’s trophy room, where “The Great One” held court with some of his guests. That led to a memorable discovery for Matlack.

“I was just in awe, being there with him [and his family]. We went into his trophy room, if you will, which was unbelievable,” Matlack said. “The thing that impressed me most was when he was talking to a couple of hitters, it had something to do with hitting. It was not something I was particularly interested in. So I was looking at the stuff on his wall, listening only half-heartedly.

“He picked up a maximum dimension bat that he had in the corner. He was showing the guys what he was talking about. I don’t know if anybody knows what a maximum dimension bat is, but it’s the biggest bat that you’re legally allowed to take to home plate. It’s about the size of a grapefruit [at the barrel]. It is monstrous. He picked it up and was waving it around like it was a toothpick. So when they were all done, I thought, ‘Let’s see what this is all about.’ I walked over to the corner and grabbed ahold of the bat. I could barely pick it up. The fact that he was strong enough to wave it around like a toothpick was somewhat astonishing.”