Puerto Rican baseball player (1934–1972)
Roberto Enrique Clemente Walker (August 18, 1934 – December 31, 1972) was a Puerto Rican Major League baseball player from 1955 through 1972, exclusively with the Pittsburgh Pirates. A posthumous inductee to the National Baseball Hall of Fame (following his fatal plane crash on December 31, 1972, en route to deliver aid to earthquake victims in Nicaragua), Clemente became both the first Latin American and the first Caribbean player to be enshrined. The National League's Most Valuable Player in 1966, as well as the 1971 World Series MVP, Clemente was also a 4-time NL batting champion, 12-time Gold Glove winner, and 12-time All-Star.
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I was not trying to be smart when I did that. I was trying to tell them that they could do whatever they want. The fans of Pittsburgh have cheered me a lot through the years. There’s always a first time for booing. But I don’t say to hell with the fans because of this. I am not swinging the bat the way I should. It is just one of those things. I am not the way I should be. I do not feel sure when I swing. I am trying to adjust so that I will swing well even though my shoulder still hurts. If a player doesn’t try hard, he deserves to be booed. I try hard. Maybe I was booed today because I have not played that bad before.
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The 100 grand right fielder revealed that Danny Murtaugh once fined him $650 when he did not run after hitting a ball to the shortstop. He never explained how Murtaugh reached the $650 figure. "I hit the ball and I slip at home plate and they fine me $650. First time up I hit a homer one-handed. I just limped around the bases."
The only people who criticize me are writers. You say, maybe I no team player. Did a player ever come to you and say I no team player? Who say that? The writers, right. I win four batting championships. Why I no team player? I kill myself in the outfield. You say, I no team player. You never see me loaf on the field. I break my back. Even Harry Walker tell me: "Roberto, why you want to break your back? Look at the other fellows. Take it easy." Super stars, my foot. They say Mickey Mantle is a super star. He's limping. They say poor Mickey. I play with four stitches in my foot and nobody knows about it. [...] The fans are good to me. Only the writers are bad."
I was so anxious for this season to start when I was at home last winter. I was thinking in terms of a big year for myself—moneywise. I had batted .357 last year and I thought that if I had another big year I might get paid more money than anybody ever did in baseball. Then I fell and then I wonder if I will be able to play at all.
Listen, I shouldn't even be playing. I showed up at spring training and I told the ball club about my accident. I said my shoulder had been damaged and the ballclub said "Sh-h-h, don't talk so loud. Somebody might hear you; Now, don't tell anybody about this." They said, "I don't want to know about it." Well, I tell you, it hurts me to swing a bat and, when I know it is going to hurt, it bothers me mentally and I do not swing the same and I wince when I think of hitting the ball. I should be home, not here in the dugout, because [sic] I would rather play even if I am crippled than to sit and watch a game.
The best advice and most help he ever received came from Buster Clarkson, an American player, when he was in Puerto Rico."I played for his team and I was just a kid," Clemente recalled. "He insisted the other players allow me to take batting practice and he helped me. He put a bat behind my foot and made sure I didn't drag my foot. Willie Mays also helped me. He told me not to allow the pitchers to show me up. He suggested I get mean and if the pitchers knocked me down, get up and hit the ball. Show them."
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