La Vida Voices: Tony Oliva’s Journey

La Vida Baseball is about the journey — how we got to where we are, how we became fans of particular teams or players, why our experience of baseball is so suffused with meaning. Today we introduce La Vida Voices, a series that allows us to learn more about the journey of Latinos in the game through stories told by players, executives, sports media and fans. It’s a slice of oral history, focusing on a few facets of what makes the game different for us.

• The Journey: The path taken as a player, manager, sportswriter, broadcaster or fan.
• The Game: Insights from legends who share their thoughts on playing béisbol, their approaches to hitting and pitching, the mental game involved at the highest level.
• The Life: Latino culture and how we root for our teams, follow the game and put the Latino stamp on baseball.

Join us on this journey of baseball stories, as told by those who walked it.

Tony Oliva

A country boy from Pinar del Río, the tobacco-rich province in western Cuba, Oliva developed into a Latino legend who possessed one of the sweetest strokes from the left side of the plate. Not only was Oliva the first Cuban major leaguer to lead the league in hitting, he was the first Rookie of the Year to win a batting title. In 15 seasons with the Minnesota Twins, Oliva averaged .304, leading the American League in hits five times and earning three batting crowns. An eight-time All-Star, his peers claim no one smacked the ball harder than Oliva.

However, his journey to the major leagues reveals the challenges he encountered: Mastering a new language. Adjusting to a different culture and living in exile after Fidel Castro came to power. Dealing with being a black Cuban in a society in which racial segregation still shaped much of everyday life. And crippling knee injuries that diminished his game and shortened his career.

La Vida Baseball spoke with Oliva — the 1964 AL Rookie of the Year — during the 2017 All-Star Week. Here is his story.

Baseball is the national pastime in Cuba. How did you start? Did you dream of playing in the United States?

When I grew up, I learned from my father, with my oldest friends who played with me, with the kids in the neighborhood.

When I was 18, 19 years old, my dream was to play baseball in Cuba on one of the Cuban teams. Because in Cuba, we had good amateur teams and a good professional winter baseball league with guys like Camilo Pascual and [Juan] Pizarro and Minnie Miñoso.

But to be able to play on those teams, you had to play in the United States first. Because the Cuban league in those days was almost on par with the big leagues. Because a lot of the big league ballplayers used to play in Cuba, American and Cuban [players]. Great teams.

When I signed in Cuba, I came from the country. I grew up in the country. I played baseball only every Sunday. I don’t know if I was good enough to play — I knew that I was good. I was [a] good ballplayer in the country. I was confident that I would be able to hit the baseball, catch the baseball and throw. But when I came to the United States, I saw all the little things that the Americans have to do to become professional ballplayers. I never dreamt that it would be that difficult.

you arrived in the United States when U.S.-Cuban relations were breaking down. How did that impact you?

In 1960, when I arrived, Cuba and the United States had a better relationship. It was very difficult for me to come here by myself because I didn’t speak any English. My idea was to come here for six months, play the game and then go back to Cuba.

If somebody told me, ‘Tony, you’re coming to the United States, but you going to stay in the United States,’ I might have never come. With a six-month visa, 56 years later, I’m still here. And that was a good six-month visa!

Tell us about leaving your family.

It was difficult to leave my family. I have nine brothers and sisters, my father, my mother. And we grew up in same house, we lived in same house. I missed my family a lot. I cried a lot. I had a good year hitting the baseball, but [it was hard] to call Cuba or send a telegram to tell them, ‘Hey, I’m doing fine.’ If I wrote a letter, it would take a month, month and a half to get there, in those days. That was very tough for me.

How did you learn English? What were the first words that you had to learn?

One of the first things you have to learn is how to eat. A fellow player from Puerto Rico gave me a piece of paper and said, ‘Tony, this is way you have to hold it.’ [It said] ham and eggs in the morning and fried chicken at night. Yeah, I ate ham and eggs every day in the morning at the same restaurant because I didn’t know how to say it; I would give them the piece of paper. When I got there, I would show them the paper and they would give me the eggs and ham in the morning and fried chicken at night.

What were other challenges in adjusting to life in the States?

When I left Cuba, the first couple of years were very, very tough. The food in those days was a little bit different. The customs were a bit different, too. Additionally, in the ’60s, it was very, very tough for the black person.

In the ’60s, our headquarters for spring training was in Orlando, Florida. When we would come to Miami, we couldn’t stay in same hotel. Within the city, the black neighborhood, they had what they called a ‘Negro hotel’ where we stayed. But that didn’t bother me because I’m from Cuba, I had some good friends, I believe in God, and [I had] my family and my job. That was it. One, two, three. And that helped me to get through all the other things.

Who were some of those friends?

I had some good, good friends — American friends who helped me and good Spanish friends. People who cared for you. And you have to have the right attitude. I think the attitude to achieve what you want to achieve means a lot. When I got to the big leagues — Camilo Pascual, Zoilo Versalles, Harmon Killebrew, Dean Chance — those guys were like my brothers-in-arms.

In 1965, Zoilo Versalles became the first Latino MVP. How good was he? And how important was it to have other Cubans on the Twins?

Zoilo Versalles was a great, great player. A great shortstop. He had a little attitude situation, though. The attitude — as a manager you had to know how to handle him. When he went to play, nobody could play better than him. But if you got him excited, you got him mad, he would [mess with you] a little bit. But he was a great friend, he was my brother, he took me under his wing.

Because I got to the big leagues right away, Camilo Pascual, Zoilo Versalles, [Pedro] “Pete” Ramos, they took me under their wing. I only was here in the minor league a year and a half. Then I was in the big leagues, playing with them. And that helped me a lot, too, to have all those Cubans in the ballclub.

Featured Image: Bettmann