| Jose Piloto: When Life Throws You A Curve ball |
It was the 1st spring-like day of the season.
AHHHHHHH! a perfect day for baseball! Who knew
I would be shooting the breeze with former Negro
League baseball player
José Piloto.
The Negro Baseball League was a racially-divided
nation’s response to allowing black people to play
baseball back in the 1930 and 40’s. And here it is
the year 2003 and here is José Piloto. Still here to tell
us all about how he played for the Negro Leagues
back in 1946 as a left-handed pitcher for the
Memphis Red Sox. Still here in our nation’s capital,
in Washington, DC, displaying his baseball
memorabilia. Pictures, his glove, books, his
baseball, baseball card-
all neatly displayed on the sidewalk next to him.
High School students are passing by and pause to
look. We tell them, “Hey, he played for the Negro
Leagues. We might as well have told them in
another language. The young high school students
didn’t seem to understand. It was like they were
thinking – isn’t that something in my history books?
They kept going-
probably to go play some ball.
Don Piloto showed us some of his memorabilia.
Specifically, a book entitled: The Biographical
Encyclopedia of the Negro Baseball Leagues, which
says that José Piloto is not only dead but was killed
in a brawl while in Mexico. But here he is, in the
flesh, on Columbia Road, in Washington, DC.
After reviewing all his marvelous memorabilia,
the much awaited interview begins.
AHHHHHHH! a perfect day for baseball! Who knew
I would be shooting the breeze with former Negro
League baseball player
José Piloto.
The Negro Baseball League was a racially-divided
nation’s response to allowing black people to play
baseball back in the 1930 and 40’s. And here it is
the year 2003 and here is José Piloto. Still here to tell
us all about how he played for the Negro Leagues
back in 1946 as a left-handed pitcher for the
Memphis Red Sox. Still here in our nation’s capital,
in Washington, DC, displaying his baseball
memorabilia. Pictures, his glove, books, his
baseball, baseball card-
all neatly displayed on the sidewalk next to him.
High School students are passing by and pause to
look. We tell them, “Hey, he played for the Negro
Leagues. We might as well have told them in
another language. The young high school students
didn’t seem to understand. It was like they were
thinking – isn’t that something in my history books?
They kept going-
probably to go play some ball.
Don Piloto showed us some of his memorabilia.
Specifically, a book entitled: The Biographical
Encyclopedia of the Negro Baseball Leagues, which
says that José Piloto is not only dead but was killed
in a brawl while in Mexico. But here he is, in the
flesh, on Columbia Road, in Washington, DC.
After reviewing all his marvelous memorabilia,
the much awaited interview begins.
As I tried to stand with my note pad and pen, ready
to catch precious historical words on paper, Don
Piloto begins his story. Before I could attempt to utter
a question to a man who to me is a legend, Don
Piloto begins, "Yo soy de Melana del Sur. A los
once años..."
Uh-Oh I thought. ¡Este señor tiene como ochienta
años y va a empezar desde que tenia once! Pero
yo no me atrevia interrumpirlo. Don Piloto siguio:
“Yo soy de Melana del Sur. A los once años me
fui- fugáo – a Havana. Queria ver la gran ciudad.
Entonces cojí una guagua.”
¿Y cuanto costó la guagua en esos tiempos?
“Quarenta centavos”, dijo Don Piloto. El recuerda
todo detalle por detalle. Me contó del guaguero que
lo llevo y de que empezó a jugar beísbol. Well...
there was a telegram for him from Manuelita. OK so
I can’t write so fast and so I’m not sure if Manuelita
is his mother or his sister. He had 5 sisters.
Altogether there were 10 of them.
“Cinco y cinco. Era Tomasa, Yuya, Cuca...”
Well, the telegram said he had to go back home, “Y
yo llorando.” But alas his time in the big city came to
an end. But his life as a baseball player was just
beginning.
to catch precious historical words on paper, Don
Piloto begins his story. Before I could attempt to utter
a question to a man who to me is a legend, Don
Piloto begins, "Yo soy de Melana del Sur. A los
once años..."
Uh-Oh I thought. ¡Este señor tiene como ochienta
años y va a empezar desde que tenia once! Pero
yo no me atrevia interrumpirlo. Don Piloto siguio:
“Yo soy de Melana del Sur. A los once años me
fui- fugáo – a Havana. Queria ver la gran ciudad.
Entonces cojí una guagua.”
¿Y cuanto costó la guagua en esos tiempos?
“Quarenta centavos”, dijo Don Piloto. El recuerda
todo detalle por detalle. Me contó del guaguero que
lo llevo y de que empezó a jugar beísbol. Well...
there was a telegram for him from Manuelita. OK so
I can’t write so fast and so I’m not sure if Manuelita
is his mother or his sister. He had 5 sisters.
Altogether there were 10 of them.
“Cinco y cinco. Era Tomasa, Yuya, Cuca...”
Well, the telegram said he had to go back home, “Y
yo llorando.” But alas his time in the big city came to
an end. But his life as a baseball player was just
beginning.
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