It's time to honor baseball's first black Cuban major-leaguer
Courtesy of the Chicago Tribune
By Cory Franklin, Chicago Tribune
January 27, 2006
Would the White Sox have won the World Series last October without the clutch late-season pitching of Jose Contreras or the phenomenal relief effort of Orlando Hernandez in the Boston playoff? How about Game 4 of the Series when shortstop Juan Uribe went into the stands, made a tumbling catch preserving a 1-0 lead, and ended the game with a great glove-to-hand transfer play? Besides their heroics for the White Sox, what do those three players have in common?
The answer is they are all black Latin players, a group whose style and skill have elevated baseball for two generations--from the unique delivery of Juan Marichal and the cannon arm of Roberto Clemente to the likes of Pedro, El Duque and Vlad today.
The first black Latin major-leaguer, who pioneered the way, was one Saturnino Orestes Armas Minoso Arrieta, a.k.a. Minnie Minoso, coincidentally the first black to play for the Sox. Less heralded than Jackie Robinson, Minoso was every bit the groundbreaker Robinson was. For 15 years Minoso faced not only racial discrimination, but the unique frustrations and difficulties Latin players were forced to endure. Minnie is among the nominees for the Baseball Hall of Fame in a special vote to be held next month. Though Minnie is rarely mentioned in discussions of prospective Hall of Famers, few are more deserving of the honor.
His career goes back as far as the Negro leagues with the New York Cubans until 1949, when Bill Veeck bought his contract for the Cleveland Indians. As it was with Jackie Robinson, racism cost Minnie his most productive years. Minoso didn't begin his major-league career until he was 26. His playing record after that age compares favorably to that of Robinson and most Hall of Fame outfielders. Traded to the White Sox, he won a Gold Glove, drove in 100 or more runs four times and was a phenomenal base runner. At different times he led the league in hits, doubles, triples, total bases and stolen bases. Baseball analyst Bill James believes that if Minoso had been allowed to begin his major-league career at 21, he would be among the 30 greatest players ever.
In 1976, Veeck brought 53-year-old Minnie out of retirement to be the Sox's designated hitter. In his first game, after going hitless against an All-Star pitcher, he publicly apologized to the fans. The next day he atoned and became the oldest player in major-league history to get a hit. In 1980, at 57, he became the oldest player ever to play in the majors. If baseball bigwigs hadn't nixed the idea, Minnie would have made an appearance in 1990 and become the only major-leaguer to play in six decades. Undaunted, at age 80, in 2003 he became the oldest professional baseball player ever by drawing a walk for the minor-league St. Paul Saints. Had the Saints not replaced him with a pinch runner, he'd undoubtedly have stolen second.
A consummate team player, no one hustled more in the field or on the bases than Minnie. He had one of the best senses of humor in baseball, arguing bad calls in a unique hybrid of English and Spanish designed specifically to confuse umpires and players alike. As an Indian, he was the most popular player in Cleveland. With the White Sox, his popularity in Chicago was second only to that of Mr. Cub, Ernie Banks.
Minnie remains an ambassador of the game, regularly attending events, chatting up fans and giving autographs. Around 2010, don't be surprised to see him offered a contract to play in his eighth decade. Look for him standing on second, smiling, after hitting a double to left-center.
Someone once said of Ginger Rogers that she did everything Fred Astaire did except she did it backward and in high heels.
Minnie Minoso may not have faced the intense pressure experienced by Jackie Robinson, but he did everything Jackie did while facing the added burdens of a Latino in 1950s America. Despite all that, he maintained a perspective sadly lacking in today's athlete. He once said, "What more could I ask of life? I came from nowhere. I worked in sugar fields as a boy. It was a tough life. I had one pair of pants. But I always had a smile on my face. My mother and father ... taught me to be a good citizen, a good human being and to love life."
Never mind Pete Rose--the real travesty will be if Minnie Minoso doesn't get into the Hall of Fame.
Cory Franklin lives in Wilmette.
January 27, 2006
Would the White Sox have won the World Series last October without the clutch late-season pitching of Jose Contreras or the phenomenal relief effort of Orlando Hernandez in the Boston playoff? How about Game 4 of the Series when shortstop Juan Uribe went into the stands, made a tumbling catch preserving a 1-0 lead, and ended the game with a great glove-to-hand transfer play? Besides their heroics for the White Sox, what do those three players have in common?
The answer is they are all black Latin players, a group whose style and skill have elevated baseball for two generations--from the unique delivery of Juan Marichal and the cannon arm of Roberto Clemente to the likes of Pedro, El Duque and Vlad today.
The first black Latin major-leaguer, who pioneered the way, was one Saturnino Orestes Armas Minoso Arrieta, a.k.a. Minnie Minoso, coincidentally the first black to play for the Sox. Less heralded than Jackie Robinson, Minoso was every bit the groundbreaker Robinson was. For 15 years Minoso faced not only racial discrimination, but the unique frustrations and difficulties Latin players were forced to endure. Minnie is among the nominees for the Baseball Hall of Fame in a special vote to be held next month. Though Minnie is rarely mentioned in discussions of prospective Hall of Famers, few are more deserving of the honor.
His career goes back as far as the Negro leagues with the New York Cubans until 1949, when Bill Veeck bought his contract for the Cleveland Indians. As it was with Jackie Robinson, racism cost Minnie his most productive years. Minoso didn't begin his major-league career until he was 26. His playing record after that age compares favorably to that of Robinson and most Hall of Fame outfielders. Traded to the White Sox, he won a Gold Glove, drove in 100 or more runs four times and was a phenomenal base runner. At different times he led the league in hits, doubles, triples, total bases and stolen bases. Baseball analyst Bill James believes that if Minoso had been allowed to begin his major-league career at 21, he would be among the 30 greatest players ever.
In 1976, Veeck brought 53-year-old Minnie out of retirement to be the Sox's designated hitter. In his first game, after going hitless against an All-Star pitcher, he publicly apologized to the fans. The next day he atoned and became the oldest player in major-league history to get a hit. In 1980, at 57, he became the oldest player ever to play in the majors. If baseball bigwigs hadn't nixed the idea, Minnie would have made an appearance in 1990 and become the only major-leaguer to play in six decades. Undaunted, at age 80, in 2003 he became the oldest professional baseball player ever by drawing a walk for the minor-league St. Paul Saints. Had the Saints not replaced him with a pinch runner, he'd undoubtedly have stolen second.
A consummate team player, no one hustled more in the field or on the bases than Minnie. He had one of the best senses of humor in baseball, arguing bad calls in a unique hybrid of English and Spanish designed specifically to confuse umpires and players alike. As an Indian, he was the most popular player in Cleveland. With the White Sox, his popularity in Chicago was second only to that of Mr. Cub, Ernie Banks.
Minnie remains an ambassador of the game, regularly attending events, chatting up fans and giving autographs. Around 2010, don't be surprised to see him offered a contract to play in his eighth decade. Look for him standing on second, smiling, after hitting a double to left-center.
Someone once said of Ginger Rogers that she did everything Fred Astaire did except she did it backward and in high heels.
Minnie Minoso may not have faced the intense pressure experienced by Jackie Robinson, but he did everything Jackie did while facing the added burdens of a Latino in 1950s America. Despite all that, he maintained a perspective sadly lacking in today's athlete. He once said, "What more could I ask of life? I came from nowhere. I worked in sugar fields as a boy. It was a tough life. I had one pair of pants. But I always had a smile on my face. My mother and father ... taught me to be a good citizen, a good human being and to love life."
Never mind Pete Rose--the real travesty will be if Minnie Minoso doesn't get into the Hall of Fame.
Cory Franklin lives in Wilmette.
Courtesy of the Chicago Tribune
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