Minnie Minoso No-Brainer For The Hall

Minnie Minoso should have been elected to the Hall of Fame long ago and it was disgraceful that he was overlooked a few years ago when a special committee was formed to install previously ignored black ballplayers of the past.

On that occasion, 17 long-ago Negro Leagues figures and African-Americans were selected for the Hall and he still didn’t make it. There will groans across the country and throughout the Caribbean if Minoso is not named in next Saturday’s Golden Era Committee voting–and not only because his on-field record warrants it, but his impact on black and Latino players demands it.

Minoso, who is celebrating a birthday Tuesday (though for what age is up in the air), played 17 Major League seasons (not counting publicity stunt appearances) and batted .298, made nine All-Star teams, won three Gold Gloves (once they were passed out), and that doesn’t even include his sterling performances in the Negro Leagues and Mexico.

A daring runner who led the American League in stolen bases three times, and more tellingly, hit by pitches so many times it was crazy (10 years!), Minoso enlivened clubhouses, primarily with the Cleveland Indians and Chicago White Sox. He was the first black player for the White Sox and made friends with Comiskey Park’s fans by smacking a home run in his debut.

Born in Havana, Minoso’s full name is Saturino Orestes Armas Minoso Arieta. He said he has no idea why he was nicknamed Minnie by a sports writer, but it stuck. Minoso was orphaned young and raised in poverty by his sisters. He dreamed of playing baseball in the United States and his first affiliation was the New York Cubans at 18 before the Brooklyn Dodgers integrated the majors with Jackie Robinson in 1947. He spoke little English, but his bat and glove spoke loudly. When he got a little money in his pocket he splurged on fancy clothing and nice cars and maintained that habit.

The Baseball Encyclopedia has listed Minoso’s year of birth as 1922. Other sources say 1925. He told me 1925. An old friend of Minoso’s who covered him in his Mexican playing days, sports writer John Reyes, 83, says Minoso is younger than he is. It’s a pretty safe guess that he is in his 80s.

Indians owner Bill Veeck, who hired black ballplayers as quickly as he was able, signed Minoso, beginning a life-long friendship. Minoso saw little action with Cleveland, but became a star with the White Sox, starting in 1951. He was a disruptive force between steals and taking the extra base. Repeatedly, Minoso was hit by pitches, sometimes dangerously injured and hospitalized with concussions. There were suspicions that he was the victim of racism in these incidents, but he never took a step back.

Latino players looked to Minoso as a pioneer and leader who overcame obstacles. He was dark-skinned like the African-Americans, and his first language was Spanish. Minoso took grief from the prejudiced for a variety of reasons and he remains one of the early Latin-American baseball heroes of the 1950s.

Minoso is not particularly out-spoken about being the first black to play for the White Sox, but when asked to pick his most memorable game he chose his inaugural appearance in 1951 when Chicago met the New York Yankees.

“The most important game of my life was May 1, 1951,” Minoso said. “I have a good memory and I always remember that date. I made a good impression on the fans. I never heard any boos. Never. I am the first black player for the White Sox, but it had to be somebody.”

Minoso, who is in the Mexican Baseball Hall of Fame, played in that country before and after his Major League stints, and also coached in Mexico. Later, when Veeck became owner of the White Sox, he activated Minoso–then probably 51–to hit a few times. That became a recurring theme with either Veeck, or later, his son Mike, operator of minor league clubs, bringing Minoso up to bat once a decade. That quirky development led to Minoso becoming baseball’s only seven-decade player. Sure it was a stunt, but Minoso is proud he was able to pull it off and owns a ring signifying the accomplishment. And no one ever said you can’t have fun in baseball.

Minoso had a fierce allegiance to Hall of Famer Veeck and when he died Minoso went to his funeral wearing a White Sox uniform. Veeck, who never wanted to see anyone too somber regardless of circumstances, would have got a chuckle out of a post-funeral incident. Minoso, who always drives Cadillacs, locked his keys in his car and there he was, outside the church, trying to break into his own vehicle with a coat hanger while fully uniformed.

Unlike many outfielders, Minoso was not mainly a power hitter. He was more of a doubles guy (he led the AL in that category once and in triples three times). He enjoyed playing in old Comiskey Park for most of his career, but the spacious stadium made it tougher on long-ball hitters.

“It was tough to hit it out of the ballpark,” Minoso said in an interview a couple of years ago.  “You had to hit it right on the nose. You had to be more of a line-drive hitter. Back then you had to be a good guy to hit .300.”

The White Sox were dubbed “The Go-Go White Sox,” a label which gained considerable attention when the team won its first pennant in 40 years in 1959. But the image attached itself to the team earlier in the decade.

“I was the one who started it,” Minoso said. “The fans used to say, ‘Go-Go, Minnie.’ I used to run for the club, not for me. I stole when it was most important for victories, not when you are five runs behind.”

The point Minoso made was that he didn’t steal merely to accumulate big numbers. Baseball never was just about the numbers to Minnie Minoso.