Connie Marrero, a Cuban treasure

ROBERT CASSIDY href="mailto:bcassidy@newsday.com">bcassidy@newsday.com

April 7, 2008

HAVANA

Connie Marrero once struck out Mickey Mantle three times in one game. Not bad for someone who learned how to pitch by throwing oranges on a farm in Cuba.

As with most of his stories, the Mantle anecdote is punctuated by Marrero's dry sense of humor. This particular incident, he explains, started long before the actual three-strikeout punchline. Once, during a spring training exhibition against the Yankees, Marrero lined a sharp single to right field. Mantle, who was playing right that afternoon, fielded the ball and threw Marrero out before he could reach first base. Everyone laughed, including Marrero. But he warned Mantle after the game, "One day, I'll get you back."

He did.

And Mantle wasn't the only star on the wrong end of one of Marrero's famous sliders. The righthander, known as "El Premier," pitched five seasons for the Washington Senators and was selected to the 1951 All-Star Game. He put up respectable numbers (39-40 and a 3.67 ERA lifetime) despite reaching the major leagues at the age of 38.

Playing for Washington didn't help his stats, either. The Senators were perennial cellar dwellars and inspired the saying, "Washington, first in war, first in peace and last in the American League."

Today, Marrero lives in a small apartment in Cerro, a neighborhood of Havana, not far from the famous "El Gran" stadium in which he dazzled opponents and delighted his countrymen. At the age of 96, he is the fifth oldest living major leaguer and the oldest former major leaguer in Cuba.

"He's going to live forever," said Gil Coan, a former teammate of Marrero's with the Senators. "He was quite a character when we were playing in Washington. He was a lot of fun to be around."

Marrero's eyesight is failing, so he rarely leaves the apartment he shares with his grandson Rogelio, and Rogelio's wife and children. Before his vision declined, he enjoyed getting out for a game of dominos. Now he finds pleasure from a good cigar and a chance to talk baseball. His wit and memory remains as sharp as the break on his slider. When he was asked when he might have been at his best on the mound, Marrero leaned forward in his green lawn chair and said, "Bueno." Then he thought for a moment and answered, "1938."

That was 12 years before he debuted for the Senators.

Born on a farm in Sagua la Grande, Cuba, he spent most of his early years playing amateur ball in the rural surroundings near Santa Clara. He rose to prominence while pitching for the Cuban National team in the 1939, 1940 and 1942 World Cups. Then he went on to the legendary Cuban League, where the eternal rivals Havana and Almendares dueled in much the same way the Yankees and Red Sox do today. For whom did he play?

"Almendares!" he declared proudly, almost surprised the question had to be asked.

He was prompted to describe the intensity of the rivalry. "Si," he said, leaning forward in his chair once again. "That rivalry," he said, speaking through a translator, "was so intense that the ballplayers from Almendares and Havana would not speak to each other. I met a couple and the wife was a fan of Havana and the husband was a fan of Almendares and in order not to get divorced, they were not allowed to talk about baseball inside the house."

One of Marrero's teammates on Almendares was Tommy Lasorda, the Hall-of-Fame manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers. "Connie Marrero could throw a ball in a teacup -- that's the kind of control he had," said Lasorda. "A Sunday doubleheader between Havana and Almendares, the stadium is packed. Connie Marrero against Julio Moreno. What a game. Those two guys were so good. Connie Marrero was about 5-foot-5 and I swear you could catch him with a teacup.

"Almendares wore blue and Havana wore red and the fans all dressed according to their team," he continued. "They once told me a story that a father kicked his son out of the house because he pulled for the other team. They were just tremendous, diehard, energetic fans."

In the late 1940s, the Marrero legend grew considerably as the pitcher began pulling double duty. He was the top starter for Almendares in the winter and was named Cuban League MVP in 1947 and '48. In the summer, he pitched for the Havana Cubans, a Washington farm team in the Florida State League, where he was a 20-game winner each year from 1947-49. He was named the Florida State League MVP in 1949.

He finally took his trademark slider to the major leagues in 1950.

"He had an excellent slider," Coan said. "He could make the slider move either way. I don't ever remember him walking a lot of people. Marrero, Satchel Paige, that's the way they got you out. They could spot the ball wherever they wanted to throw it. He was first-class. I never heard anyone complain about him. When they handed him the ball he went out there to beat up on somebody."

"He was a smart kind of pitcher," said Mickey Vernon, another former teammate with the Senators. "He threw a lot of sliders. He wasn't overly fast. He wasn't too young either when he came to the big leagues, which makes what he did even more impressive."

The teammates remember him for his personality as much as his pitching.

"He didn't learn the language too fast, but he knew what you were talking about, he had a great sense humor," said Vernon. "I liked him a lot. My daughter was a few months old and we had a room next to Connie at a hotel in Orlando for spring training. Every morning, he would say he could hear the baby crying. But you know, before spring training was over he gave my daughter a gold necklace. She still has it."

Marrero seems to have a special affinity for the Yankees and Yankee Stadium. He said the ballyard in the Bronx was his favorite place to play, "More people." And he said the practical jokes between Senators and Yankees were routine. He remembers Yogi Berra sneaking into the Senators clubhouse before games and tying all the uniform pants into knots.

"Mantle was a low-ball hitter when he hit left-handed and a high-ball hitter when he hit right-handed," Marrero said. "So I just did the opposite. But Mickey Mantle could just as easily hit the same pitch for a home run."

Marrero says the toughest hitter he ever faced was the Cleveland Indians' Larry Doby. "I used to do much better against right-handed hitters," he said. "I threw a curveball over the top and a slider and a sinker."

Marrero is beloved in Cuba and once appeared on a postage stamp, an honor he shared with Cuban baseball legends Martin Dihigo and Adolfo Luque. Talking baseball invigorates him. It remains his passion and identity. Although Marrero rarely makes public appearances, for the last seven years he has been a featured attraction of a baseball-themed tour out of Canada called "CubaBall."

"His memory is incredible," said Kit Krieger, who runs CubaBall. "He went to school for about four years of his life. But he is very intelligent, very insightful. He enjoys his stories as much as everyone else does."

Krieger, a school teacher from Vancouver who visits Cuba often, has been collecting letters from former teammates and opponents. He reads them to Marrero each time he visits.

"Every one of the former players – Al Rosen, Dom DiMaggio, Yogi Berra -- displayed tremendous affection and regard for Marrero."

But as popular as Marrero is on both sides of the Florida Straits, he is unable trade on that fame to supplement his meager income from the Cuban government. Retired big leaguers in America can live off appearances but there are no card shows in Cuba, no booming memorabilia market. While Marrero's stipend is more generous than what most Cubans receive -- a reward for his baseball success and loyalty to his country -- he lives on roughly the equivalent of $162 U.S. per month.

Although Marrero played the requisite five years in the majors, he does not receive a pension from Major League Baseball.

"When Connie made it to the major leagues, he was 38 and he wasn't sure if he would last the five years required to become vested," said Krieger. "One of his teammates, Fermin Guerra, another Cuban, talked him out of enrolling. He figured he should keep all the money that was coming to him."

"Those fellas [the Cubans] lived frugal and whatever they were making they took it back [to Cuba] with them," said Coan. "That's a sad situation about Connie. Everyone I know jumped at the pension, hoping that if they did make it in time to get vested, they'd get their money back. That's another example of how tight it was for some of the Cuban ballplayers. Connie didn't know where or when he'd get a nickel back."

Krieger often solicits donations to bring to Cuba and will charge "CubaBall" clients an additional $20 if they want something signed by Marrero. All that money goes directly to Marrero. He also has lobbied Major League Baseball and the Baseball Assistance Team (BAT) to come to Marrero's aid but the embargo between the United States and Cuba makes the situation difficult.

On its web site, BAT states that it has "awarded more than $16 million in grants ... benefiting more than 2,100 members of the baseball family, including former Major League players, managers, coaches, scouts, umpires, athletic trainers, front office personnel as well as Minor League players, Negro League players, their widows and children and players from the Women's Professional Baseball League."

When contacted about Marrero, a BAT spokesperson said that all of BAT's contributions and those who receive them are confidential and therefore no one in the organization could comment on Marrero.

"Baseball will not do anything because he's in Cuba," said Krieger. "There are not many destitute big leaguers around, but he can't get help. He's a man of great dignity. It would be great if he could have a cigar when he wants one and get medicine when he needs it. Baseball should look after him."

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