Every year on this day, I put on my Roberto Clemente jersey and I remember.
I remember hearing the news that Roberto Clemente had died in a plane crash on a humanitarian mission to Nicaragua where the earth had broken open.
I remember disbelief and tears.
And I remember more.
I remember seeing Clemente play. And I am forever grateful.
At Forbes Field and at Three Rivers Stadium, I had the privilege to see Roberto Clemente play. On numerous occasions, I saw him play with the skill and grace and passion that few brought to the game. Slashing hits. Unmatched arm. He covered right field like a blanket. He ran the bases with abandon.
Clemente hailed from Puerto Rico and played right field for the Pittsburgh Pirates for 18 years. One of the first Hispanic players, he played in the face of prejudice—he faced jeers and slurs. People who had only one language mocked him for speaking English—his second language—poorly. Because of the prejudice against Hispanic players and because he played in the small market town of Pittsburgh, Clemente never received the acclaim as a player that he deserved until late in his career.
And he deserved acclaim because he could play. He won twelve Golden Gloves for his defense. He had one of the strongest throwing arms that has ever been seen. He ended his career with 3,000 hits.
I remember seeing Clemente live. And I am forever grateful.
The people of Puerto Rico and Pittsburgh admired Clemente for his athletic ability but even more we admired him and we admire him for the way he lived his life off the field. There he made the most of his time.
Clemente engaged in humanitarian work in Puerto Rico and in Pittsburgh alike. He demanded respect for himself and the people of Puerto Rico and other Latin American countries. He worked for people who lived in poverty and responded to the needs of his sisters and brothers. He reached out to children and provided them with opportunities to develop their own athletic talents. In 1973, Clemente was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal and the first Presidential Citizens Medal. In 2002, he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Baseball has named its annual award for community involvement after Clemente.
A massive earthquake hit Managua, Nicaragua on December 21, 1972. The quake devastated the city, with thousands either dead or left homeless. Clemente organized relief efforts in Puerto Rico. When he learned that some of the aid had ended up in the pockets of the leaders and had not reached the people of Nicaragua, Clemente decided to deliver the next shipment personally. On New Year’s Eve, he stepped into a DC-7 plane along with the supplies and headed for Nicaragua. Not long after takeoff the plane suddenly lost altitude and crashed somewhere into the waters off Puerto Rico. Clemente’s body was never found.
Interviewed after he led the Pirates to victory in the 1971 World Series, Roberto Clemente spoke first to his parents. Moisture filled my eyes as I watched that incredible, unforgettable moment.
Moisture fills my eyes now as I type these words about this incredible, unforgettable athlete and this even more incredible, unforgettable human being.
Te recuerdo, Roberto. Siempre.
The Plague was written by Albert Camus, who as my friend Alonzo Johnson 
I finished 
Along the Graybeard Trail 