The first time I went to spring training, it included a side trip to Puerto Rico, which was also a first. The reason for the side trip? That’s where the Montreal Expos were playing a Grapefruit League game against the Pittsburgh Pirates and, as a rookie on the baseball beat, wherever the Expos went I was obliged to follow.
Until then, Puerto Rico was a foreign place, the one that sent many baseball players I knew (or knew of) to the majors from San Juan and other nearby towns and cities such as Ponce, Santurce, Caguas, Bayamon and Salinas. It was the heartland of most Spanish-speaking players who made it to the big leagues, starting with Hiram Bithorn, who pitched for the Chicago Cubs. Curiously, this happened five years before Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s colour barrier. Many Puerto Ricans, then as now, were considered to be people of colour.
Bithorn was revered throughout his homeland for being Puerto Rico’s first major leaguer. He was shot and killed by a police officer (some things never change) in Mexico while attempting to resurrect his four-year major-league career. This is relevant because when the Expos played that exhibition game against the Pirates, it was in Estadio Hiram Bithorn.
The ballpark became special to the Expos, who also died, 22 years ago this fall. They played 22 regular-season games in it during their last two seasons on life support, hoping to attract larger crowds than they were getting in Montreal and, in the process, lose less money. There was even a far-fetched idea that the Expos could split their “home” games between the two cities, a dream quickly extinguished by average attendance of 14,000 fans at Estadio Hiram Bithorn.
Even AI isn’t aware of that historic preseason event from the Grapefruit League, which, by the way is a fancy name for largely meaningless games that prepare Florida-based teams for the regular season. It was the first of five games the Pirates played in Puerto Rico, where grapefruits are also grown, to raise funds for Roberto Clemente’s vision of a sports city for kids.
The side trip that continues to sustain my interest in Puerto Rico was not to Estadio Hiram Bithorn. It was to Casa Clemente, where the Pittsburgh super star outfielder lived until he perished in a plane crash while taking supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua. Just 15 months after the night he died, I called his widow (Vera) to request an interview in their home. She and her three sons welcomed this unexpected visitor, and the result was one of my more moving stories as a baseball writer.
The game, for which she delivered the ceremonial first pitch the following day, was otherwise forgettable. There are no records of who won, who lost, or that the game was played… not even in my files. Yet the stadium is anything but forgettable. Next week, 10 games in the World Baseball Classic will be played at Estadio Hiram Bithorn, including four that will determine if Canada advances to the Classic’s playoff round.
In three subsequent visits to Puerto Rico, all many years later, I found one thing about San Juan that never seems to change. Like the Clemente family, it’s always welcoming.
