Willie Mays Says Goodbye

My greatest boyhood sports hero passes away at 93.

Greg Mitchell is the author of more than a dozen books (see link) and now writer/director of three award-winning films aired via PBS, including “Atomic Cover-up” and “Memorial Day Massacre” (recently nominated for an Emmy). You can still subscribe to this newsletter for free.

Willie Mays, who died today at 93, was my greatest sports hero growing up (later sharing that with Muhammad Ali), so a few personal notes.

—One of my earliest childhood memories is riding around in a circle on my tricycle in October 1954, at the age of six, shouting (as others tell me), “The Giants won the World Series! The Giants won the World Series!” This was when they were still in NYC and it was a sweep over the Indians. He had made “The Catch” that week. Check out the popular song that came out in that era, above, hailing Willie as new NY hero.

--The first adult-level book I ever owned was given to me as a Christmas present a little more than a year later (or maybe it was two years later), his first memoir, “Born to Play Ball,” probably penned by sportswriter Charles Einstein. I can still remember the black binding and photos in the middle, which included “The Catch.”

—Let’s pause for a moment to reflect on Willie growing up in Alabama in the 1930s and 1940s. Solid Jim Crow. And starting his career with Jackie Robinson barely in the majors. And, of course, then surviving the segregated north—minor league months in Trenton, NJ, the worst, he said—and even San Francisco (famously had trouble buying a house).

—No need to call him the greatest all-around player in baseball history. It’s enough to say, as many if not most longtimers are doing, that he was “the greatest I ever saw.”

—Growing up in western New York, I never got to see him play in person, and back then there were few games on national TV, so I made sure I knew when the Giants were on the Saturday “Game of the Week.” I was watching when Willie had his four HR game vs. Milwaukee.

—But have such strong memories of trying to listen Giants games when they played a team from a city with a strong signal from the host radio station. So could tune in a few games each year vs. the Pirates and Mets and, after dark when reception improved, from Cincy and St. Louis (with Harry Caray and Jack Buck). But remember, the Giants by then were in San Fran and home games often started about 10:30 in the east. So I’d have to take my radio to bed and listen, sometimes under the covers as my parents would not necessarily approve.

—Okay, need to move along. Let’s jump forward to 1971. Willie, now aged, carried the Giants on his back to the playoffs, on tired legs stealing 23 bases in 25 attempts or some such. Finally got to see him play in person against the Mets a few times that year, with my Crawdaddy buddy (and fellow lifetime Willie fanatic), Peter Knobler. The following year, kind of a dream come true—Willie now in full decline, traded to the Mets! I was out of town for his first game, so missed it when he homered in his homecoming.

—The following season, in August, what were the odds I'd be sitting out there in leftfield and watch a ball hit by Willie vs. the Reds sail right past me into the bullpen, since he hardly ever hit HRs anymore?  And not only that, it turned out to be his final dinger, #660.

—Several weeks later, I was at Shea for Willie's tribute night, after he announced his pending retirement, when he tearfully said "goodbye to America." Then I attended with Peter all of the home playoff games vs. the Reds (so we saw the Pete Rose/Buddy Harrelson fight). In his final NL playoff game his swinging bunt single drove in the winning run over the Reds that put the “Ya Gotta Believe” Mets into the '73 World Series.

I could to on but, to get this out tonight, I should end by just saying “Goodbye from America, Willie.”

Below, classic “Talkin Baseball (Willie, Mickey & The Duke).”