Clemente's 3,000th hit was a day to remember

I recall arriving at Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh on Saturday, September 30, 1972. It was around 10:30 in the morning on a cloudy day. The temperature was in the high 50s.  

Roberto Clemente, the stellar right fielder of the Pittsburgh Pirates, was one hit away from becoming the first Latin American player and 11th player overall to amass 3,000 hits at the major league level. As a member of the broadcast group for WAPA-Radio in Puerto Rico (Roberto's birthplace), I imposed on myself the responsibility to arrive at the stadium early. I wanted everything to be a success that day.

Before the game, Roberto and I chatted several times, but not once did 3,000 hits become the main subject of the conversation. He did tell me, about 45 minutes prior to the game against the New York Mets, “If I get it [the hit], come down [to the clubhouse] so that we can keep on talking."

Our pregame show lasted about 15 minutes. Therefore I had time to call his mother, Luisa, in Puerto Rico and tell her that her son was doing well and was ready for the game. Before hanging up she said to me, “If he gets the hit, give him a kiss for me.”

THE GAME AND THE HIT

The starting time for the game was 2:30 p.m.

The pitchers were left-hander Jon Matlack for the Mets and right-hander Dock Ellis for the Pirates. The umpire behind the plate, John Kibler, called out “play Ball,” signaling the start of Roberto’s quest for number 3000.

On his first at bat in the first inning, Clemente struck out.

However, in his second at bat in the fourth inning, at exactly 3:07 pm, he lined a one-bounce double to the left field fence for the coveted hit. The crowd of 13,117 fans gave him a great standing ovation, as Roberto's name was solidly etched in history as part of the 3,000-hit club, along with so many other terrific accomplishments in his 18-year career with the Pirates.

Later that inning, Roberto scored a run on Manny Sanguillen’s single to left field. He then came out of the game in the fifth inning, left the dugout, and headed to the Pirates’ clubhouse.

IN THE PIRATES’ CLUBHOUSE

After excusing myself from the broadcast, I made my way down to the clubhouse and told the clubhouse manager Hully Hallahan, about Roberto’s pregame request. Hallahan allowed access to the clubhouse.

By this time, Roberto was wearing white shorts but was without a shirt. We hugged, and as his mother had requested, I gave him a kiss on the neck.

He gave me a surprised look, along with a smile, so I explained to him, “That comes from your mom. I spoke to her from the broadcast booth prior to the game and she asked me to give you a kiss on her behalf.”

While sitting on wooden stools we continued to talk. Among other things, he said, “I shyly appreciated the ovation,” referring to the reaction of the crowd. That was the Roberto I knew!

I recall very well that during the time we spent in the clubhouse talking about what had happened, I picked up a piece of cardboard and wrote “3,000” on it. Since then, I have seen countless times the photo of Roberto holding that makeshift cardboard sign while sitting on the stool.

During the ninth inning of the game, an avalanche of members from the media were given access to the clubhouse. For close to an hour, Roberto happily and professionally answered their inquiries. By that time, he was still in his white shorts, but had put on his Pirates game jersey. The first reporter I saw approach Roberto was New York writer Dick Young, a well-respected friend.

I will never forget during his postgame interviews, Roberto dedicated his 3,000th hit to his family, as well as the fans in Pittsburgh, Puerto Rico, and throughout Latin America. He then said, “I especially dedicate this to Roberto Marin, the man who discovered me as a young player and helped me so much.”

UPON LEAVING THE STADIUM

Roberto and his wife, Vera, left the ballpark and headed to the home of a lovely couple living in Pittsburgh. Their names were Henry Coolong and his wife Elsa; she was from Roberto’s hometown of Carolina, Puerto Rico. Henry and Elsa were like mentors to Roberto.

A couple of hours later, we all went to the Clementes’ home, which was located in the Green Tree suburb of Pittsburgh. Sometime during the evening, Roberto asked his best friend and mentor in Pittsburgh, Phil Dorsey, along with myself, to accompany him to his room. He wanted to prepare for a late-night reunion with Pirates owner Dan Galbreath. He changed his white shirt and tire. While doing this in front of a mirror he surprisingly said, “Now they know what kind of a player I am.” That is a moment that is still very much alive in my memory.

THE FOLLOWING DAY—SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1972

During a pregame ceremony honoring Roberto’s offensive milestone, Bob Prince, the Pirates' legendary broadcaster and longtime friend, introduced me to the fans so that I could present Roberto with a special award on behalf of all of Puerto Rico. It was a mounted plaque that had at its base a clod of soil from the field in Carolina, where Roberto had played baseball as a kid.

HOW I REMEMBER ROBERTO

Puerto Rico has always been divided for social, political and religious reasons. However, islanders have long been united by the wonderful legacy of Roberto Clemente.

Internationally, millions of fans have become united by Clemente, especially since his untimely death in a plane crash off the northern coast of Puerto Rico on December 31, 1972. He was leading a mission of mercy for victims of an earthquake in Nicaragua.

Roberto Clemente helped me understand in many ways who I am. He gave me fortitude and an emotional platform to walk through life, as I try to carry on his mission of uniting people throughout the countries where baseball is played.

I miss his friendship. I miss sitting down with him and talking about life and other subjects.

In my mind I still carry a torch of goodwill, which he in essence handed me symbolically, during our friendship.

To me, Roberto is a constant source of inspiration, as I think of him almost every day. To this day he inspires me to travel the right path through the vehicle of baseball.

Today and forever, I will consider myself a very fortunate man as God allowed me to discover and befriend Roberto Clemente.

Luis Mayoral is a longtime baseball executive and journalist who has worked in the game for five decades. A close friend and confidante of Roberto Clemente, Luis was the first person hired by a major league team to serve as a liaison for Latin American ballplayers, helping them to adapt to American culture and custom.