Eight days after a demanding 162-game season, about a dozen Pirates employees boarded a FedEx cargo plane stocked with supplies en route to Caguas, Puerto Rico.
Among the group were Bob Nutting, Frank Coonelly, Joey Cora, Sean Rodríguez and Francisco Cervelli. With the help of a two-day supply drive on Mazeroski Way, they collaborated to lend a hand to the U.S. island territory that had been ravaged by two hurricanes in less than two weeks.
One of the passengers who spearheaded the grand gesture, which was concocted inside the third-base dugout at PNC Park, does most of his work for the Pirates behind the scenes. However, his position is unlike any in Major League Baseball, and he is at the forefront of the organization's mission to ensure different cultures can collaborate both on and off the field.
Mike Gonzalez, 32, is the Pirates' assistant to the general manager and coordinator of cultural initiatives. Aside from his duties as team interpreter, Gonzalez helps Latin American players prepare for life in the United States with media training, as well as leadership, character and communication development.
After all, one pillar of the organization is firmly entrenched in Latin America.
THE INITIAL PLAN
Twelve months after becoming majority owner of the Pirates in January 2007, Nutting unveiled plans for a new Latin American baseball academy in El Toro, Dominican Republic. The previous facility was outdated. It only had one batting cage. The tiny clubhouse had a cement floor. There was only one field. Additionally, Nutting increased funds for signing bonuses and salaries for scouts in the region.
It was a multi-layered plan to help the Pirates identify and develop talent in Latin America, providing the resources to ease the on-field transition for prospects to professional baseball in the United States. To complement the work of former Latin American scouting director Rene Gayo and area scouts, the facility in El Toro is the hub for prospects to learn the nuances of baseball.
However, the transition for those players off the field is far more difficult. That's where Gonzalez comes in.
"My goal has always been, ‘Hey, you guys are coming to a new country, however, don’t become intimidated and don’t become insecure of who you are because there's a reason why you were given an opportunity to come to the States,'" Gonzalez said. "It’s helped them realize why they belong here, embrace that they belong here and help them prepare so they can have longevity in the States."
In January 2016, MLB, in conjunction with its players union, sent a memo to all 30 teams mandating that each has a interpreter to ensure Spanish-speaking players can express themselves more completely to media, coaches, teammates and the front office.
The move toward adding an interpreter began when Carlos Beltrán, then with the Yankees, witnessed his teammate, Michael Piñeda, struggle to fully explain himself to media after the starting pitcher was ejected in a 2014 game for using pine tar.
Pineda, who is bilingual, insisted on speaking English during the interview rather than having a teammate or coach assist him, but he struggled to answer questions. Beltrán took action, approaching the players association with the idea of having an interpreter on each team.
“Every Latino that plays at the MLB level wants to learn English and get better, but it takes time to pick up the language, and it doesn’t happen overnight,” Beltrán told MLB.com. “I do believe once Latinos get to a point where they feel they can do an interview in English, that some won’t need an interpreter anymore. But others will, and this is something that was needed and overdue.”
MORE THAN WORDS
Prior to the announcement, Gonzalez was doing contractual work with the Pirates' young Latin American ballplayers at the Pirate City complex in Bradenton, Fla. He gave one-hour sessions on media training and leadership development, preparing players in Instructional League for their next step in the organization.
When each team received the mandate, Gonzalez was hired prior to the 2016 season. However, the Pirates didn't want his role to simply be as an interpreter, which is all they were required to add. Instead, they wanted him to give those same educational courses to players in the major leagues, as well as working extensively with the Latin American baseball academy.
Gonzalez spends approximately one week per month in El Toro during the offseason, working specifically with recently-signed international free agents. The sessions become more extensive closer to spring training, when the organization is preparing another class of athletes to depart for the United States.
During spring training, he instructs groups of Latin American players once per week. That also extends into the season, as he is with the team every day, both in Pittsburgh and on the road.
Whenever a player is surely going to be interviewed following a game, Gonzalez pulls him aside to put together a plan.
What went well during the game? What's the best way to explain a certain play or sequence? Gonzalez emphasizes proper body language and eye contact. Afterwards, Gonzalez quickly tells the player how he performed in the interview and what needs to be improved.
He also conducts meetings with Latin American players, even the veterans, once a month during the season to sharpen those communication skills. Additionally, Gonzalez conducts leadership exercises throughout the season with a group of players chosen by Clint Hurdle. The sessions are designed to expose a player's weakness in certain situations, such as selfishness, and Gonzalez — with the help of Hurdle — offers tips on how to improve in those areas.
"Mike’s passion for helping our players and staff goes well beyond his role, and he is relentless in helping others be better," Neal Huntington said.
Gonzalez is at the forefront of the only cultural initiatives program in Major League Baseball. While every other organization has an interpreter, the Pirates have targeted the off-the-field transition at a much earlier stage.
There is surely a need. Ten players on the Pirates' 40-man roster hail from a Spanish-speaking country. Although most are now veterans — Gregory Polanco speaks English, while Starling Marte chooses to use Gonzalez during media interviews — the Pirates' Latin American pipeline continues to develop young players who are on the cusp of earning a role in the major leagues.
"Mike Gonzalez has been a most valued addition to our major-league staff," Hurdle said. "Mike has a servant’s heart for leadership and a passion for sport, especially the game of baseball. He models the behavior he wants to instill in others. He leads his family at home and he works hand in hand with us to continue and grow our players up on and off the field."
THE ADJUSTMENT
Gonzalez becomes emotional when reflecting on how some of his pupils have transitioned to professional baseball. After all, he knows how difficult culture shock can be.
Gonzalez was born and raised in Cayey, Puerto Rico, a large city located on the country's Central mountain range near the southeast coast, until his family moved to Tampa, Fla., when he was 11 years old. His father, a landscape architect, was seeking to further his career and his mother wanted a fresh start after Gonzalez' grandmother passed away.
The transition was especially difficult on Mike. Children at school were cruel. He wanted to develop friendships, but that was a challenge because of the language barrier. His saving grace was baseball. The sport had been his passion for as long as he could remember.
Sure, he couldn't fully communicate with classmates yet, but baseball was a universal language.
"I feel for these ballplayers who came here and stick to their own because of the language barrier and culture differences," Gonzalez said. "That’s something we’re trying to fix where, when these ballplayers come through, they have better connections with the American ballplayers and they can come in confident that they belong. Even though there’s a language barrier, it’s not as bad as it used to be."
Gonzalez played baseball in community college prior to finishing his bachelor's degree at Southeastern University. He began working with Game On, a company that did contractual work for the Pirates. As part of his job, he'd give extensive sessions at Pirate City.
That's when he met Edgar Santana.
PRIZED PUPIL
Santana didn't begin to pitch until he was 19 years old in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. His first throw was an 85 mph fastball. Prior to that, his plan — well, his mother's plan for him — was to become a teacher. However, he signed with the Pirates four days before his 22nd birthday in October 2013 and made his professional debut with short-season West Virginia only 18 months later.
The right-handed reliever made a quick rise through the organization, using his fastball velocity and a devastating slider to reach Triple-A only one year after he arrived in America.
The transition off the field wasn't as trying for him, either. Unlike many Latin American players, Santana's transition to life in America was eased by his grasp of English and an outgoing personality. Gonzalez noticed the latter immediately when Santana was a student of his at Pirate City.
The transition can be more trying once a player reaches the major leagues, though. That day arrived for Santana on June 11 when the Pirates hosted the Marlins. After receiving news of his call-up the previous night, he entered in the fifth inning and allowed one run on three hits, including two doubles.
Santana exuded confidence afterwards when speaking to the media, with Gonzalez acting as the interpreter. But it took Gonzalez only a few days to realize something was amiss with his former student.
"When he first got called up, I had to pull him aside because Edgar wasn’t being Edgar," Gonzalez said. "He was kind of timid. He was trying to make sure he did everything right because he didn’t want to fail. He didn’t want to mess up. What was going on was he was forgetting to be himself. He was forgetting to be that relaxed, fun guy that was loose and confident in what he could offer the team."
Santana was experiencing culture shock. There's a large contingent of Latin American players inside the Pirates' clubhouse — he sat near José Osuna and Jhan Mariñez — but intimidation can be inevitable when trying to fit in.
Santana was sent back to Triple-A after eight more relief appearances, but his return was one of the bright spots in a dismal final chapter of the Pirates' season. A more relaxed Santana — he gave many interviews without Gonzalez upon his return — did not allow a run in his final 8 1/3 innings to finish the season.
Other pitchers in the bullpen could not believe the difference in Santana's personality, Gonzalez recalled.
Santana is now expected to be a key piece of the Pirates' bullpen in 2018, and Gonzalez hopes that his story is only the latest of many for the organization.
"I love that I could witness that," Gonzalez said. "I can look at him, smile and say, ‘See, look at how that hard work pays off.’ ... Him finding his comfort and energy, it has been amazing to be able to witness that and to be a part of it."
THE MISSION
Division within a major league clubhouse can be a common occurrence. Latin American players often spend more time together. Language aside, they form common bonds because of their respective backgrounds.
No country or culture is exactly alike, but traditions can be similar. For example, families in Latin American countries often gather once per week for a large celebration. Cuisine can also be similar. Players who rose through the organization together often develop close relationships in lower levels of the minor leagues because that's when the off-the-field transition is most difficult.
They forge a bond to help with the adjustment.
However, the Pirates want to help with that cultural divide through Gonzalez' work and other initiatives. They've started to send two American minor leaguers to the Latin American academy each month during the offseason to experience the culture.
The hope is that such a plan will help both sides better understand one another. The minor-league affiliates do not have a person such as Gonzalez there on a day-to-day basis, so a thorough education program sets a foundation for a player's social transition into professional baseball.
"Our education program is amazing and effective to where these guys are coming up already being able to defend themselves in English and communicate," Gonzalez said. "We used to have guys come and they’d only hang out with the Latin ballplayers and you’d see the division between the groups. It was horrible. Now, that’s changing."
Gonzalez witnessed that firsthand in the aftermath of Hurricane Irma. The Pirates were hosting the Cardinals during their final homestand of the season, and Gonzalez had been struggling with how to help his native country.
He couldn't get hold of most family members. All he could do was monitor reports on television and his cellphone. Gonzalez had ideas on how he could help, but he felt overwhelmed by the idea of doing it alone.
Cervelli, who was aware of what had occurred in Gonzalez' homeland, approached Gonzalez inside the dugout in the middle of the game. The Pirates' catcher wanted to know how he could help. In earshot of the conversation, Rodriguez then sat next to the two men.
He, too, offered to help.
Together, the three brainstormed how they could gather supplies and raise money to deliver to Puerto Rico. They agreed to fly there together as soon as the season ended. But where would they get an airplane that big? Gonzalez met with the club's community and public relations staff the next day.
Then Cora, a native of Caguas, offered to help. He went to Nutting, who approached FedEx about the cargo plane. Over the next week, the organization collaborated with sponsors and players to raise $200,000.
What made it all the more gratifying was that Gonzalez did it with the help of Cervelli, a native of Venezuela; Rodriguez, who is of Cuban descent; people throughout the organization; and fans who donated nearly 395,000 pounds of supplies.
Gonzalez' mission — both to help his country and to connect cultures within the organization — was a success.
"That speaks measures," he said of Cervelli and Rodriguez. "That speaks that there’s no division in our cultures. It speaks that their heart is far greater than their race and their culture."