Elroy Face on Roberto Clemente

“Clemente had the ability, no doubt about it, but he was, for instance, always trying to show off his arm. He was always trying to throw out runners at the plate, instead of throwing the ball to the cut-off man and preventing the hitter from taking the extra base. Instead of having runners at first and third, and still having the chance to get a double play, you’d have runners at second and third and no chance to get the double play. It makes it a lot tougher on the pitcher. He wouldn’t throw the ball down where Groat could grab it as the cut-off man or let it go if he thought Clemente’s throw could get the lead runner out. Clemente had a strong arm, but he was always trying to show it off. Early on, he used to throw the ball into the stands, but he got more accurate as he went on. He made some great throws and got some guys out, but there were more times he didn’t get the guy. Little things like that. As a player, you realize the significance of such things. The fan just sees him getting a guy out at home plate. But he did that two out of ten times. It looked great to the fans, and it was great for the Pirates if he got someone out like that. But more often than not, he was putting more pressure on the pitcher.”

“Clemente was a great ballplayer. He could hit, run and throw. He was a great ballplayer, one of the better ballplayers I ever saw. Willie Mays was the best; he could beat you more ways than anyone else. As a ballplayer, whenever he wanted to play, there were few who could compare to Clemente. He had God-given talent and ability.”

“If a guy is getting paid to play, he should be out there. You don’t sit out because you’ve got an upset stomach. Another guy who will tell you the same thing is Groat. [...] In 1959, when I went 18-1, I cut my hand and had to have stitches. I missed some games, but I came back, with the stitches in my hand, and pitched. I still had scars. I had dropped a glass in a sink, and tried to grab it, and cut myself. I was out ten days. There was a story in the papers that Clemente had pulled a knife on me in an argument and had cut me. It never happened. We never got into any kind of a fight. I was never a fan of Clemente the whole 14 years we were around each other. But it didn’t affect me. I knew he had the ability to play his position. I didn’t let my personal feelings affect my approach. In all the years I played with him, as a person, he just wasn’t my kind of person. Clemente and I never had a disagreement. But we never got close together, either. We talked and associated with each other in the clubhouse. I guess he was something of a hypochondriac, and he wouldn’t play unless he felt perfect.”

“If I went along with all the praise he gets, I’d be a hypocrite. Because it’s not my true feelings. I didn’t look up to him as a person. He was a great ballplayer, when he wanted to play, but as a person – from my point of view – he wasn’t my kind of guy. I’ll probably get shot for that, but that’s the way I feel.”

“I don't believe if Clemente were still alive that there'd be a statue. It's the way he died. I think, in my mind, Stargell did as much for the people of Pittsburgh, for the team, for the organization. He deserves a statue as much as Clemente does for the contributions he made here. That's my feeling. Stargell mingled more with the public, and he mingled more with his teammates, and he was more of a positive influence all around.”

“I asked Face if he remembered where he was when he learned that Clemente had died in an airplane crash on New Year's Eve of 1972. Again, somewhat strangely, a smile. "I was sleeping," he said. He was living in Penn Hills at the time with his first wife, Jeanne Kuran, who was from Pittsburgh and to whom he was married for 25 years, and their daughter Michelle, then 17, who woke him up to tell him the bad news about Clemente. Face remembered his reaction to Michelle's wake-up call. "I said, ‘Better him than me,’ and rolled over and went back to sleep." It sounded harsh. Face chortled at his own story.”

“There wasn’t too much contact with Clemente off the field; just at the ballpark. He was pretty much by himself, a loner. We were never close… He didn’t hang around with us much. He was always with Earl Francis, or Gene Baker or Joe Christopher. He had other friends. There were always people from Puerto Rico or other Latin countries wherever we traveled. He was just more of a loner.”