Joseph Sabino Mistick: Clemente magic

Democrat Chris Deluzio and Republican Guy Reschenthaler, two Western Pennsylvania members of the U.S. House and unlikely allies on any piece of legislation, have co-sponsored a bill. The Roberto Clemente Commemorative Coin Act sounds like an easy layup for both politicians, but nothing is easy in politics these days. Just being seen chatting it up with a member of the other party is enough to cause suspicion.

Deluzio describes himself as “a Pennsylvania Rust Belt Democrat.” He is pro-labor, and one of his top priorities is the Railway Safety Act, which he introduced after the toxic train derailment in East Palestine, Ohio, in early 2023. He supports President Joe Biden, but he has broken with the administration when he believed it’s right.

Reschenthaler describes himself as “staunchly conservative but pragmatic.” In 2022, he joined Republican leadership in the House of Representatives when he was named chief deputy whip. At the time, Majority Whip Tom Emmer called him “tenacious and determined.” He is a strong supporter of former President Donald Trump.

Deluzio and Reschenthaler are both Navy veterans, both served in Iraq, both are lawyers. Deluzio is 39 and Reschenthaler is 40. They represent abutting congressional districts. But two more different members of Congress on the issues would be hard to find.

That’s what makes their Clemente partnership news. Deluzio told me last week, “Guy and I don’t agree on a lot of things, but Roberto Clemente is different.” Reschenthaler told me, “Not everything has to be hyper-partisan, and Roberto Clemente is a good example.” That’s a good enough start for me.

In my old neighborhood, Roberto Clemente dominated our summers. Once a year we packed into a rented bus and headed to Forbes Field for our annual “Knothole Game,” a charity outing that came with free seats in right field. There, Clemente joked with us, tossed balls to us and showed us his basket catch during the pregame warm-ups. We loved each other.

The rest of the season we listened to games on a transistor radio and grinned and nodded at each other if Clemente complained about a pulled muscle or a sore neck before the game. We knew that, for some reason, the more he complained, the better he would play. He was our guy.

Then came that terrible morning in January when news broke that Clemente had died flying disaster relief supplies to Nicaraguan earthquake victims. My mother Molly-O called me sobbing. She was a Great Depression child who had faced hardship and had lost loved ones, rarely shedding a tear. After that, I never cared for baseball very much.

Roberto Clemente taught us to always give our all. He taught us to play through pain. Watching how he lived and died, we learned how to love one another and look out for our neighbors. He taught us how to live with passion.

There is clearly some Clemente magic at work here in this bill that could lead to something bigger. A bipartisan immigration bill that would secure our southern border and treat desperate families fleeing danger with compassion is stuck in Congress — hung up on the old political games. The commemorative coins are welcome, but a better honor for Clemente would be to help many of the same people he died trying to help.