As the Pittsburgh Pirates ready themselves for a game at the friendly confines of PNC Park, they walk through a tunnel that eventually leads them to the dugout. On the way down the stairs, the players touch a sign that expresses the impassioned words of one of the most revered men in the history of sports.

Roberto Clemente famously once said, “When I put on my uniform, I feel I am the proudest man on earth.”

Clemente’s story is one of triumph, compassion and tragedy. The Puerto Rican superstar graced the Pittsburgh Pirates uniform for 18 seasons wearing the number 21.

A conversation long overdue, people are debating and petitioning that baseball universally retire Clemente’s number as an everlasting honor to his career and humanitarianism.

So why retire 21? To understand that, you must know the story of the man before him who wore the number 42. The only number ever retired by every Major League team in the history of the sport.

Baseball, as beautiful as it is, has a dark history. Renowned historian Ken Burns describes it as a “mirror of our times,” for baseball reflects American society. Clemente’s MLB debut was in 1955. Another fellow pioneer was drawing his career to an end. Jackie Robinson, who sported the number 42, would retire from baseball in 1956 after a career that faced immense hatred and racism.

Robinson broke the color barrier in 1947 signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers in one of the most pivotal events in American history. He encountered death threats, intentional pitches to the head and racial slurs, yet nothing could stop this man from tearing the cover off of the ball, shredding the basepaths or catching anything that came his way. He excelled at the game, revealing that baseball knows no color. Despite that, there was still a long way to go for America and its pastime.

Branch Rickey was the former general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers who made the landmark decision to sign Jackie Robinson. With a new job in Pittsburgh he drafted Roberto Clemente.

Clemente would never face racism in the same respect as Robinson, but he still had to become accustomed to the ignorance of the many, including the prejudiced media. Often times reporters would make fun of his Latino accent while quoting him in the paper.

Clemente’s longtime teammate Bill Mazeroski said, “He was just learning to handle the language, and writers who couldn’t speak three words of Spanish tried to make him look silly.”

Much like Robinson, Clemente just commanded the game in all areas regardless of what obstacles he had to overcome. He was a once-in-a-generation ballplayer, making fifteen trips to the All-Star Game, earning twelve gold glove awards and being awarded the league’s MVP in 1966.

Former broadcaster Vin Scully claimed, “Clemente could field the ball in New York and throw out a guy in Pennsylvania.”

His consistency at the plate earned him four batting titles and he would bat over .300 twelve out his eighteen seasons with the Pirates.

Clemente won two World Series with his first in 1960 where his performance was stellar. But, the 1971 Fall Classic was where all eyes watched as this Puerto Rican sensation proved just how great a ballplayer he was.

The series went to its maximum seven games and Clemente added an early go-ahead home run to his resume and won the MVP as the Pirates were crowned as World Champions.

The postgame interview did not go unnoticed amongst the latino community as Clemente made it his priority to thank his parents in Spanish on national television.

He was in the latter half of his career and he was chasing baseball lore – hit number 3,000. He did just that on September 30, 1972 with a double to left center field. He tipped his cap to a roaring Three Rivers Stadium crowd. The famous photograph captures Clemente’s crowning achievement, but also his unforeseen death that occurred a little over three months later.

The Pirates fell to the Cincinnati Reds in the postseason. Clemente’s historic year came to a close. He jumped back into his charitable work by helping the people of Managua, Nicaragua after an earthquake destroyed their city.

Clemente was made aware that his initial aid packages were being intercepted by the corrupt Nicaraguan government. He decided to personally escort the flight to ensure that the relief would reach the earthquake victims.

On New Year’s Eve, 1972, Clemente’s chartered plane crashed into the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Puerto Rico, where he died in his attempt to help a suffering people.

A heartbroken Pittsburgh woke up to the devastating news, and they mourned the loss of their beloved ballplayer. The organization promptly retired his number the following season.

The Baseball Hall of Fame waived the traditional five year waiting period and effectively inducted him into Cooperstown in 1973. It was the only time the committee made such an exception.

The city of Pittsburgh embodies the spirit of the great Roberto Clemente, and they honor him any way they can.

The Sixth Street Bridge became the Roberto Clemente Bridge in 1998. A statue of him stands outside of PNC Park while inside, the right field wall stands at twenty one feet high.

Latinos make up roughly 27 percent of major league baseball compared to the 10.6 percent at the time of Clemente’s death.

Think of the hispanic players who came after him that made the game such a showcase: Rod Carew, Sammy Sosa, Albert Pujols, Miguel Cabrera, Mariano Rivera, David Ortiz, Pedro Martinez and the list goes on and on.

To show for that, baseball should finally do what should have been done a long time ago and make it so that no other name will be stitched above the iconic number 21. Clemente epitomized the greatness of the human heart. He sacrificed his life for a cause bigger than himself. His unwavering and unapologetic pride in his Latino heritage paved the way for many to come after him.

Roberto Clemente played the game of baseball the way he lived, with honor and humility. Let the number 21 be a symbol of what we all can aspire to be.