Chicago Tribune - Fans pay last respects to Minoso: ‘The perfect person’

CHICAGO — To White Sox fan Theresa Pawlicki, the small crowd of people gathered outside Holy Family Church for Minnie Minoso’s funeral service Saturday seemed, oddly, like a reunion of long-lost friends.

“Just talking to all these fans, hearing their stories about Minnie, they all have such a special connection to him,” she said, blinking to hold back tears.

Pawlicki, clad in a heavy White Sox jacket, was one of dozens of fans in White Sox gear lined up outside the church Saturday, many sticking out in a sea of black suits and dark overcoats. As they entered the Sox legend’s memorial service, some gripped photographs of themselves with Minoso; others held their Sox caps to their chests.

Minoso died Sunday at age 90. Known as the “Cuban Comet,” he died just over a month after Cubs legend Ernie Banks. An autopsy determined Minoso died of a tear in his pulmonary artery caused by “chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.”

Pawlicki had been a fan of Minoso’s for more than 60 years, since she first saw him play as a child. She called Minoso “the perfect person,” as he remembered her game after game and let her wear his World Series Champions ring once at Soxfest.

She drove a long way from her retirement home in northwest suburban Huntley, Ill., a trip her friends told her was crazy.

“I said, ‘Well, I’m going,’ ” she said. “Even if I have to go myself. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

At the service, Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel was the first to offer a reflection of Minoso’s legacy, and talked of how Minoso, Chicago’s first black major league player, struggled with being both black and Latino.

“He (answered) the way he knew how,” Emanuel said. “With his bat, with his glove, with his speed and with his smile.”

Historian Adrian Burgos echoed Emanuel’s remarks and spoke of how Minoso dealt with stereotypes — such as “hot-blooded Latino” — and racist comments with grace and dignity. He said Minoso cleared the path for minorities to break through the Negro League and enter minor and major league baseball.

Minoso made his White Sox debut in 1951, becoming Chicago’s first black major league player after spending the 1950s in the minors. That same year he became the second Latino All-Star in major league history.

He would finish his career with a .298 batting average, 186 homers, 83 triples and 1,023 RBIs.

White Sox senior executive vice president Howard Pizer shared the story of how, in the 1950s, Minoso asked a white player to give a ball to a young white boy on crutches recovering from polio in segregated Tennessee. As a black player, Minoso couldn’t comfortably give him the ball directly.

The young boy grew up to be Congressman Steve Cohen of Tennessee, who continues to cherish the gesture.

“That was just who Minnie was,” Pizer said.

Zach Strauss, a close friend of Minoso and the owner of Wrigleyville sports bar Sluggers, never once saw Minoso play. But Minoso’s frequent visits to the restaurant brought them together, not only because of Minoso’s charming personality but because of his love of cooking.

Minoso would often spend time in the kitchen, he said, cooking with everyone and teaching them his signature recipes: tamales and arroz con pollo.
Strauss’ most cherished memory of Minoso is of their trip together to the Dominican Republic, during which he lost Minoso one night at a resort. After searching for him, he discovered he was in the kitchen, chatting with the bus boys and waiters.

“I used to say I saw Minnie as a grandfather,” he said. “But he was more of a friend. A buddy. Looking back, the age difference didn’t matter. I never saw Minnie as an old man anyways.”

Minoso’s son, Charlie, began his comments with a wide smile.

“If you met him, you’d know my dad was one of the most unconventional people,” he said.

He then dived into Minoso’s “quirks,” like how his father would be up until dawn watching black and white cowboy movies. He spoke of how his father was overly superstitious; he never veered off his same driving route to the ballpark and always visited the same people in the same order.

And he too mentioned his father’s cooking.

“He was the best cook. He never knew how to cook for two or three people, only an army,” he said, chuckling. “And he left enough leftovers to feed a small country.”

Charlie’s voice then cracked, though, and he broke into tears describing his bewilderment by the size of the crowd before him and the sentiments shared about Minoso’s legacy by several congressmen and President Barack Obama.

He said that as a child he knew he would have to learn to share his father with the world — something he was now hugely grateful for.

“Your support has warmed our broken hearts,” he said. “We Minosos are eternally blessed to be part of the Chicago White Sox family.”

Sox executive vice president Kenny Williams said Minoso’s passing had a heavy effect on current Cuban Sox players.

“I can only speak for Jose Abreu and Alexei Ramirez, who were hit really hard by the news,” he said. “Being a fellow Cuban, Minnie really put his arms around these guys and was a large part of their becoming acclimated to Chicago. It was invaluable to have him around.”

The funeral ended with a cheerful chorus of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” during which friends and family sang along, pointing their fingers upward as they sang, “One, two, three strikes you’re out.” The funeral was followed by a procession which drove past U.S. Cellular Field.

“It was almost like he played forever, because when we lost, he lost,” said White Sox Hall of Famer Frank Thomas. “We’re all going to miss Minnie.”