ST. LOUIS — In a somber and emotional moment that transcends the boundaries of sport, St. Louis Cardinals catcher Willson Contreras confirmed late Tuesday the passing of his beloved grandmother, Doña Maria Elena, a woman he described as “the soul of our family.”
The 32-year-old MLB star took to social media with a black-and-white photo of his grandmother smiling on her porch in Venezuela. “We lost her peacefully,” he wrote in Spanish. “And though I’m wearing red today, my heart is draped in gray.”
The post quickly went viral, not only among Cardinals fans but also across the Latin American baseball community, where Contreras has long been seen as a symbol of resilience, pride, and deep family roots.
Contreras — known for his fire behind the plate and unwavering spirit — has often spoken about how his grandmother raised him and his brothers while their parents worked long hours. “Baseball started in her backyard,” he once said in an interview. “She made a ball from tape and socks. That was all we needed.”
Cardinals teammates observed a moment of silence before Wednesday’s game, with several players wearing a black armband in her honor. But what Contreras did next stunned even longtime fans.
“I’m Going Back — But Not Alone.”
In a post-game interview, Willson announced he would be flying back to Venezuela for a private funeral — but not before chartering a flight to bring 15 displaced children from a flood-stricken village near Caracas to attend the ceremony.
“Because abuela always fed every kid who knocked on her door. If this is goodbye, I want her surrounded by the kind of love she gave.”
Inspired by his grandmother’s generosity, Contreras also revealed plans to convert her small home into a community kitchen and learning center. The project, dubbed “Casa Maria Elena,” will serve free meals and baseball tutoring to underprivileged children year-round.
The Cardinals organization pledged matching funds for the initiative within hours. “Willson leads with heart, and we follow that,” said manager Oliver Marmol.
In the wake of his grandmother’s death, Contreras has reminded fans of something too often forgotten: athletes are human. Beneath the gear and cheers, they grieve, they love, and they carry stories far deeper than their stats.
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As the crowd at Busch Stadium rose for a standing ovation the next day — not for a home run, but for a man returning from mourning — Contreras looked up, pressed his hand to his chest, and whispered: “Te amo, abuela.”
And in that moment, baseball became more than a game.