Playing with Purpose Read online

  Mariano was born on November 29, 1969, in Panama’s capital of Panama City, about thirty-five miles away from Puerto Caimito. The son of a fisherman, he lived in a house that sat about a hundred feet from the ocean. But don’t get a mental picture of a luxurious beach home. Many houses in this area consist of concrete blocks and corrugated tin roofs.

  “My childhood was wonderful,” Mariano says. “Oh, man. I didn’t have much. Basically, I didn’t have anything. But what we had, I was happy.”

  When Mariano closes his eyes, he can still picture his boyhood home. White sand. Cool ocean breezes. The land dotted with mango trees. Gentle, friendly people.

  The Rivera home often felt pretty cramped for Mariano and his three siblings. (He has an older sister and two younger brothers.) So Mariano spent a lot of time outdoors.

  His sport of choice as a child was soccer, but he also played baseball … if you count using a stick to hit a ball made of electrical tape wrapped around fish netting as baseball.

  Sports Panama-Style

  The country of Panama bridges Central and South America. It’s best known for the Panama Canal, which allows ships to sail between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans without having to go all the way around the southern tip of the continent of South America. But it’s also well-known for its sports.

  Many sports that are popular in the United States share similar popularity in Panama. Although soccer (called fútbol in Panama) is the most popular sport, Panamanian children also enjoy basketball and baseball, and there are professional leagues for all of these sports. Boxing, tennis, and golf also enjoy a high level of popularity in Panama.

  Because Panama borders two huge bodies of water and is only about the size of South Carolina, water sports are immensely popular. Snorkeling, fishing, scuba diving, surfing, and beach volleyball are all favorites for locals and visitors.

  During his early elementary school years, Mariano and his friends would make a ball, cut a few straight tree branches to use as bats, and fashion gloves and chest protectors out of cardboard. Then they’d wait for low tide. Games could be played in the streets, but that could sometimes be dangerous. Besides, a wide stretch of sand during low tide made a much better playing field. But even then, games brought an element of danger.

  Mariano remembers one particular baseball game with his cousins (almost everybody on the two teams was related). One cousin threw a fastball that another cousin fouled back. A third cousin, who was playing catcher without a mask, took the foul ball right below the eye. The welt ballooned up about the size of a baseball.

  Sometimes one of the boys would get an actual baseball for Christmas or for his birthday. But it wouldn’t take long before the aggressive swings and constant use would tear the cover off the ball. Mariano says tennis balls were a luxury—and not very durable. The boys in Puerto Caimito would hit the balls so hard that they would quickly rip.

  When Mariano was twelve, his father bought him a real leather baseball glove. The youngster was so excited that he slept with the glove and took it everywhere with him, even to school.

  Mariano’s father worked hard as a fisherman, earning around $50 a week, to provide for his four children. His catch of the day often made its way to the dinner table. He was also a strict disciplinarian. Mariano remembers receiving a lot of spankings, but he knew his father punished him for his own good.

  As Mariano entered Pablo Sanchez High School, he dreamed of becoming a professional soccer player. He had quick feet and a smooth athleticism. What he didn’t have, however, was the ability to stay healthy. Numerous ankle injuries caused him to give up on his fútbol aspirations.

  Instead of bending it like Beckham, Mariano went fishing like his father—and many of the other men in his village. Panamanian fishermen throw nets in the cool Pacific Ocean to catch sardines, snapper, herring, grouper, and other fish.

  Following his graduation from high school at the age of sixteen, Mariano went into the family business. He wasn’t afraid of hard work, but after a few years of working with his father, he realized fishing wasn’t for him. The boats would go out for six days a week. Everybody slept onboard. If enough fish weren’t caught during the day, they’d fish at night—even in the rain. Mariano often found himself untangling nets or helping to pull in the lines to drag hundreds of pounds of fish into the boat.

  And sometimes fishing was dangerous, especially during high seas. At the age of nineteen, Mariano was aboard a 120-ton fishing boat when it started to capsize. The motor stopped working, and the boat began taking on water. Mariano and the rest of the crew had to flee for their lives. Fortunately, everyone made it to the safety of a nearby boat.

  Mariano admits that was a scary experience, but everything about being a fisherman was hard. “Extremely hard,” he says. “I wanted to study to be a mechanic. Obviously, I didn’t do it because the Lord had different plans for me.”

  While Mariano didn’t follow his father’s footsteps into fishing, he did pick up a lot from Mariano Sr.—including his strong character and generous spirit. If his father could help someone, he would, Mariano says—even if that meant giving a person his last $10. (Panama uses the American dollar as its currency.) Plus, his father is willing to work hard.

  “From my father’s side, I got the strength, the mental toughness, the heart, the courage,” Mariano says.

  But the Yankee great also credits his mother’s side of the family for making him into the person he is today. He spent a lot of time with his grandfather on his mother’s side, who would cut trees in the manglares, a junglelike mangrove habitat. Mariano saw the patience he demonstrated and the attention to detail.

  “The piece of my mother I have [is] the gentleness, the worries, making sure everybody is okay,” he says about his mother, Delia.

  That willingness to help and put others above himself ultimately helped open the door for Mariano to make it to the major leagues. Because while he enjoyed playing baseball growing up, he didn’t want to be a pitcher—until he had to be.

  6

  FROM VAQUEROS TO PINSTRIPES

  What is it about kids and rocks? When the two of them get together, one is bound to get thrown—and it won’t be the kids!

  Thousands of stones dotted beaches around Puerto Caimito, and kids would often throw them into the ocean, at trees, or toward signs. Mariano Rivera was an excellent rock thrower growing up. He had uncanny aim—it seemed like he could hit anything with a rock in his hand.

  Of course, when it came to sports, Mariano preferred using his feet over his arm. He had great speed on the soccer field and on the baseball diamond. So even though he could throw, he liked to play in the field. He enjoyed using his quickness and strong arm at shortstop, and he could use his running ability in the outfield.

  After Mariano determined that fishing wasn’t his life’s passion, he joined a local amateur baseball team. The eighteen-year-old looked good sporting the green and gold uniform of Panamá Oeste (Panama West).

  In nearby South American countries, soccer is king. But Panama, Nicaragua, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and other Latin American countries have a long history in baseball. Major League teams, always looking for untapped talent outside the U.S. border, send scouts throughout Latin America hoping they can discover players who have the skills to play at the big league level.

  Numerous regional teams in Panama give athletes an opportunity to continue working on their baseball skills after high school. Over the years, dozens of Panamanian players have played in the majors. For example, Rod Carew, one of the best hitters ever, played in the majors from 1967 to 1985 and was the first Panamanian player inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

  America’s Pastime

  Baseball has long been called “America’s pastime.” Based on the British sport “rounders,” modern baseball was invented in the United States in the mid-1800s. Since then, the sport has become a key part of U.S. history. Baseball has a much shorter history in Latin America, but it has shown amazing growth
since the 1980s.

  In 1990, about 13 percent of major league players were from Latin America. Now that number is around 30 percent. The tiny island nation of the Dominican Republic alone produces nearly one out of every ten players who plays in the big leagues.

  At the beginning of the 2011 major league season, eighty-six players hailed from the Dominican Republic, sixty-two from Venezuela, twenty from Puerto Rico, and four (including Mariano Rivera) from Panama. And Mariano is far from the only Latin American player to make a big name for himself.

  Albert Pujols, whom many consider the best first baseman ever to play the game, moved from the Dominican Republic to the United States as a teenager. And Miguel Cabrera, who grew up in Venezuela, won baseball’s Triple Crown in 2012. That means he led the American League in batting average (.330), home runs (44), and RBI (139). He was just the thirteenth player in major league history to accomplish the feat, the first to do it in forty-five years, and the first Latin American player to win the award.

  “As a scout, you’re signing players to get to the big leagues, not Double-A or Triple-A,” said longtime scout Herb Raybourn.

  Raybourn, who was born and raised in Panama, often attended Panama’s national baseball tournament. He first saw Mariano play in 1988, when the Vaqueros (Cowboys) made it all the way to the finals.

  At 6 feet, 2 inches tall and weighing 155 pounds, Mariano made an impact as a rangy shortstop with a good arm. His batting stroke, however, was less than impressive.

  “I gave him good marks in his fielding and throwing,” Raybourn said. “But his hitting was questionable. I just didn’t think that he’d be able to hit that well in the big leagues.”

  Raybourn passed on Mariano, as did all the other professional scouts.

  A year later, Panamá Oeste again qualified for the national tournament. After a long season, the Vaqueros pitching staff was pretty beat up. Some pitchers were plagued by injuries, while others would get lit up every time they took the ball.

  Mariano didn’t like losing. His competitive spirit drove him to do whatever it took to win, even if that meant pitching.

  During one game, Mariano was in the outfield and his team’s best pitcher was getting bombed. No other pitchers were available, so Mariano volunteered to step onto the mound. He had thrown some growing up and was always good at hurling rocks at a target, so maybe he could help the team win as a pitcher. The Vaqueros ended up coming from behind to win the game, and the team ended up with a new pitcher.

  Two weeks later, Mariano was returning from the beach with his parents and girlfriend, Clara, when two teammates ran up to him. Catcher Claudino Hernandez and center fielder Emilio Gaez said they’d found him a tryout with the New York Yankees.

  Mariano wasn’t overpowering as a pitcher, but he was accurate. So accurate, in fact, that Chico Heron, a Yankees scout, noticed him. Heron set up a tryout with Raybourn, who the previous year had become the head of Latin American scouting for the Yankees.

  Mariano traveled to Panama City for the audition. Raybourn immediately recognized him. The skinny shortstop took the ball and walked to the mound.

  Mariano remembers the tryout like it happened yesterday. “I wasn’t nervous,” he says. “I had nothing to lose.”

  He had thrown just nine pitches—all of which registered in the mid-80s on the radar gun—when Raybourn stopped him. Mariano thought he’d blown it. Big league pitchers typically throw in the 90s—and some even top 100 miles per hour with their fastball. But Raybourn had seen enough.

  “The radar wasn’t really being lit up,” Raybourn says. “But what I liked about Mariano was his looseness, a nice loose arm. And his fastball had a lot of movement. I could picture him pitching in the majors.”

  Raybourn figured that with some professional coaching and weight training, Mariano could gain some extra zip on his fastball. Raybourn also thought Mariano could learn a few other pitches.

  On February 17, 1990, the twenty-year-old signed with the Yankees and received a $3,500 signing bonus. The Atlanta Braves drafted Chipper Jones No. 1 overall that same year and gave him a $252,000 bonus—nearly a quarter million dollars more than Mariano received.

  Mariano couldn’t have been more excited, however. Before he inked the contract, he had never seriously thought about playing professional baseball. But now he was no longer a Vaquero; he would wear the pinstripes of the New York Yankees.

  “Usually a player prepares for years [for this],” Mariano says. “Here I was signing, and I wasn’t even a pitcher.”

  Mariano’s excitement was also tempered with fear. He had never traveled far from his home. He didn’t even speak English. Plus, he’d have to leave his family, his friends, and his girlfriend. He cried when he left Puerto Caimito. So did his mother.

  The road to the major leagues wouldn’t be easy, and Mariano knew it. But he had no idea about the amazing help that he was about to receive.

  7

  FISHER OF MEN

  Mariano boarded a plane and flew to Tampa, Florida, to join the Gulf Coast League Yankees. Tampa may sit next to the water and be home to numerous white, sandy beaches, but that’s where the similarities between it and Puerto Caimito stop. Instead of small fishing boats and a quiet lifestyle, Tampa featured huge cruise ships and a busy nightlife. Plus, everybody spoke English.

  Mariano missed home.

  “My first year when I was in Tampa and my second year in North Carolina, it was no English,” Mariano says. “I cried because I couldn’t communicate with my teammates, with my pitching coordinator, my manager—I was frustrated.”

  Because there were no phones at his parents’ house in Panama, Mariano mailed them letters. Sometimes weeks would go by without Mariano’s mother hearing anything from her oldest son. She worried about him. She knew he was lonely and living in a strange place.

  Mariano may have felt like he didn’t fit in off the field, but he looked at home on it. The Gulf Coast League was for rookies who weren’t ready for Class A ball. Many of the players came straight out of high school or were in situations similar to Mariano’s—athletes who had been scouted and signed from another country.

  Mariano no longer showed his range at shortstop or played in the outfield. The Yankees signed him to be a pitcher. While Mariano still didn’t feel like a pitcher, he threw like one. In 22 games, he pitched 52 innings and gave up one earned run while striking out 58 and walking just 7.

  On the last day of the Gulf Coast League season, the Yankee manager asked him to pitch on just two days rest. Typically, pitchers need four or five days’ rest to recover from a start and get their arm strength back. But Mariano didn’t hesitate. He took the ball and pitched seven innings of no-hit, shutout baseball. The Yankees were already seeing that Mariano had the ability to bounce back quickly and pitch at his best.

  In 1991, Mariano advanced to the Class A Greensboro (North Carolina) Hornets. While his record (4–9) was subpar, he posted an impressive 2.75 earned run average and a 123-to-36 strikeouts-to-walk ratio.

  But 1991’s greatest highlights for Mariano occurred off the field, not on it. First, he dedicated himself that year to learning English. None of his Hornet teammates spoke Spanish, so he asked them to teach him the right way to speak his new language.

  Then, following his year in North Carolina, Mariano flew home and married his longtime girlfriend, Clara. They had known each other since elementary school. It was the perfect example of two friends deciding to make a lifelong commitment to each other. They exchanged vows on November 9, 1991.

  In the spring of 1992, the magazine Baseball America ranked Mariano as the ninth-best Yankee prospect. Derek Jeter was rated second, just ahead of Andy Pettitte. The Yankees bumped up Mariano to their top Class A team in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

  Again, he pitched well as a starter. He posted a 5–3 record with a 2.28 earned run average. His strikeouts dropped to 42, but he allowed a paltry five walks. Still, Mariano knew that a mid-80s fastball and decent changeup wouldn’t get him prom
oted to the majors. He started trying to develop a curve ball by snapping his wrist to create more spin. But the experiment proved to be painful and unsuccessful. The change in his throwing mechanics put extra stress on his elbow and wrist. On August 27, 1992, before the season was over, Mariano went in for elbow surgery.

  Elbow surgery can end a pitcher’s career. At first, surgeons thought they’d have to replace a ligament in Mariano’s arm. But during the surgery, they determined that the ligament could be repaired. That made his recovery much quicker, and by the start of spring training in 1993, he was ready to continue his career.

  Mariano began the 1993 season back in the Gulf Coast League but quickly advanced to Greensboro. His manager with the Hornets, Brian Butterfield, loved Mariano’s attitude and baseball skills.

  “This guy is our best outfielder,” Butterfield said, describing the way Mariano tracked down balls during batting practice. He certainly wasn’t the Hornets best shortstop. By this time, Derek Jeter and Mariano were teammates. The two future Yankee greats quickly became friends.

  “After Mo had surgery, when we were in the minor leagues, he was on a pitch count,” Jeter remembers. “So I used to count his pitches at short for him. I’d go to the mound and tell him he was wasting too many pitches. True story.”

  Mariano’s statistics were again impressive but not noteworthy enough to move him up in the Yankee farm system. That happened in 1994.

  Mariano began the year with New York’s high-level Class A team in Tampa. After posting a 3–0 record, he moved to the Double-A Albany-Colonie Yankees. A month and a half later, he made his debut with the Triple-A Columbus Clippers. He started six games at Columbus and had a 4–2 record. However, his 5.81 ERA worried the Yankee higher-ups. Mariano had a big league attitude and athleticism, but his pitches still lacked pop.