For the second time this year, Chicago lost a baseball legend, and players from the Latino baseball community in the United States lost a pioneer. Just five weeks after Ernie Banks’ passing, Minnie Miñoso, the first black White Sox player and the major leagues’ first black Latin star, died on Sunday.
“Orestes Miñoso was the Jackie Robinson for all Latinos, the first star who opened doors for all Latin American players,” Hall of Famer and Puerto Rican native Orlando Cepeda once said. “He was everybody’s hero. I wanted to be Miñoso. Clemente wanted to be Miñoso.”
Much like Cubs Hall of Famer Banks, Miñoso, the man who put the go in the “Go Go” White Sox of the 1950s, was a Chicago icon. President Obama, a White Sox fan, and the baseball club called him “Mr. White Sox” in acknowledging his death.
After so many years, Miñoso’s baseball skills are often overlooked. Perhaps that tendency began as early as his rookie season in 1951. He debuted the same year that Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays arrived in New York and their teams squared off in the World Series. Miñoso batted .326, posted a .422 OBP and slugged .500, scored 112 runs and led the league with 14 triples and 31 stolen bases.
Yet, the White Sox rookie finished second to the Yankees’ Gil McDougald in American League Rookie of the Year balloting, despite generating higher hitting percentages across the board. With 149 more plate appearances, Miñoso also topped McDougald in virtually every other offensive statistic but home runs.
Miñoso did finish fourth in the AL MVP vote, kicking of a stellar career in which he ranked among the league’s top five in runs eight times between 1951 and 1960. He made nine All-Star teams, led the AL in triples and steals three times each, finished in the top four in MVP voting four times, played six positions, won three Gold Gloves, and batted .307 with a .397 OBP in those 10 seasons.
A blend of power, speed and relentless hustle, the wiry Cuban brought excitement and flair to the “Go Go” Sox, which didn’t always show up in the numbers.
“As much a part of Miñoso as his ability to run and hit and throw is his electrifying appeal,” said longtime Atlanta Journal-Constitution sportswriter Furman Bisher. “As soon as he gets on base, which is often, a sort of restless hum sweeps across the stands.”
The numbers say that Miñoso was a premier run producer for most of a decade. From a statistical standpoint, that puts him in a similar predicament as Tony Oliva when the Veterans Committee assesses Hall of Fame credentials. Were Miñoso and Oliva Hall of Fame-quality performers long enough? The Hall has its share of players inducted after having careers shortened by injury or circumstances beyond their control, such as racial segregation, but Miñoso and Oliva fell short once again in the December vote.
Both Cubans excelled at a time they were learning a new language and culture. Beyond talent, that required mental toughness and dedication, remarkable qualities that fueled major league success but haven’t helped to sway Veterans Committee voters over the years.
Much like Cepeda, Oliva looks up to Miñoso, the first black Latino star who paved the way for his own success. That sentiment is shared by current White Sox shortstop Alexei Ramirez, a fellow Cuban who spoke of Miñoso to Sports on Earth in a 2014 interview: "I need five to six hours to talk about what he means to us. He's an encyclopedia of knowledge. He opened the door for all of us.”
Those words were uttered 50 years after a fine career between the lines. But Miñoso also was a pioneer. And that should count for something at the Hall of Fame.
“Orestes Miñoso was the Jackie Robinson for all Latinos, the first star who opened doors for all Latin American players,” Hall of Famer and Puerto Rican native Orlando Cepeda once said. “He was everybody’s hero. I wanted to be Miñoso. Clemente wanted to be Miñoso.”
Much like Cubs Hall of Famer Banks, Miñoso, the man who put the go in the “Go Go” White Sox of the 1950s, was a Chicago icon. President Obama, a White Sox fan, and the baseball club called him “Mr. White Sox” in acknowledging his death.
After so many years, Miñoso’s baseball skills are often overlooked. Perhaps that tendency began as early as his rookie season in 1951. He debuted the same year that Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays arrived in New York and their teams squared off in the World Series. Miñoso batted .326, posted a .422 OBP and slugged .500, scored 112 runs and led the league with 14 triples and 31 stolen bases.
Yet, the White Sox rookie finished second to the Yankees’ Gil McDougald in American League Rookie of the Year balloting, despite generating higher hitting percentages across the board. With 149 more plate appearances, Miñoso also topped McDougald in virtually every other offensive statistic but home runs.
Miñoso did finish fourth in the AL MVP vote, kicking of a stellar career in which he ranked among the league’s top five in runs eight times between 1951 and 1960. He made nine All-Star teams, led the AL in triples and steals three times each, finished in the top four in MVP voting four times, played six positions, won three Gold Gloves, and batted .307 with a .397 OBP in those 10 seasons.
A blend of power, speed and relentless hustle, the wiry Cuban brought excitement and flair to the “Go Go” Sox, which didn’t always show up in the numbers.
“As much a part of Miñoso as his ability to run and hit and throw is his electrifying appeal,” said longtime Atlanta Journal-Constitution sportswriter Furman Bisher. “As soon as he gets on base, which is often, a sort of restless hum sweeps across the stands.”
The numbers say that Miñoso was a premier run producer for most of a decade. From a statistical standpoint, that puts him in a similar predicament as Tony Oliva when the Veterans Committee assesses Hall of Fame credentials. Were Miñoso and Oliva Hall of Fame-quality performers long enough? The Hall has its share of players inducted after having careers shortened by injury or circumstances beyond their control, such as racial segregation, but Miñoso and Oliva fell short once again in the December vote.
Both Cubans excelled at a time they were learning a new language and culture. Beyond talent, that required mental toughness and dedication, remarkable qualities that fueled major league success but haven’t helped to sway Veterans Committee voters over the years.
Much like Cepeda, Oliva looks up to Miñoso, the first black Latino star who paved the way for his own success. That sentiment is shared by current White Sox shortstop Alexei Ramirez, a fellow Cuban who spoke of Miñoso to Sports on Earth in a 2014 interview: "I need five to six hours to talk about what he means to us. He's an encyclopedia of knowledge. He opened the door for all of us.”
Those words were uttered 50 years after a fine career between the lines. But Miñoso also was a pioneer. And that should count for something at the Hall of Fame.