Willie Mays passed this year, on June 18. He was 93. The tributes were plentiful, and generally well written, accurate, and heartfelt.
Many, but not all, flatly stated that Mays was the greatest all-around five-tool (hit, hit for power, run, field, and throw) baseball player ever. While there’ll be no argument here, the purpose is not to reiterate the accolades. This is different. This is personal.
From the Beginning
One of the earliest memories I have is of my father pointing to a television screen and saying, “Look son, that’s Willie Mays! He’s the greatest baseball player in the world.”
I was somewhere between two and four years old and not sure I understood what a baseball player was, but that’s how Willie became my first hero other than my parents. I came to fully understand what my father meant soon enough, and spent the rest of Mays’s career being enthralled by him every chance I got. To this day, he is my favorite athlete ever (Jim Brown and Wilt notwithstanding).
My family moved from New York to South Jersey in 1956; Willie’s Giants moved to San Francisco after the 1957 season. Dad and I went to at least one out of every three-game series the Giants played in Philadelphia. I was plastered to the TV whenever any Giants game was broadcast.
Why the Fuss? Beyond the Stats
The reason for my rapt, devoted attention was simple: it was rewarded at every turn. The statistics, universally mentioned and analyzed, amaze. (See, for example, Paul Casella’s “24 Amazing Willie Mays Stats” here: https://www.mlb.com/news/willie-mays-best-stats-and-accomplishments). The hitting, the fielding, the base-stealing, the Gold Gloves, the All Star appearances, etc. – no, the statistics don’t lie. (At least 70 extra base hits thirteen consecutive years, etc.) Yet, they don’t begin to tell the whole story, either.
Let’s illustrate with an example. Mays was probably the first great power hitter to also be a great base stealer. I’ll spare you recitation of the stats, which anyone can look up in seconds. Other players specialized in stolen bases and have far more than Mays’s 338. (He’s not in the top 100, but is the only player ever to have at least 3000 hits, a .300 average, 300 home runs and 300 stolen bases for his career.) The point is that Willie Mays was, without question, the greatest overall baserunner I have ever seen or expect to see.
Baserunner
Just in games I personally saw (live or on TV), Willie did each of the following, some more than once, over the years:
- Advance from first to third on a sacrifice fly;
- Advance from first to third on a bunt
- Advance from first to third on a routine ground ball
- Score from second on a sacrifice fly, and also on a bunt and a routine ground ball
- Score from first on a single
- Routinely stretch hits into extra bases
Each of these, and probably more I’m forgetting, was accomplished without an official error being committed. There was, however, the mental error of fielders forgetting it was Willie Mays doing the running. There are no stats available for any of this, or for the number of official errors induced by the havoc his base running – or the fear of his base running – caused.
One of the tributes published in June mentioned opposing managers having to remind their outfielders before playing the Giants about Mays the baserunner. “If he appears to take too wide a turn, around any base, he’s trying to bait you into throwing behind him. You will never throw him out and he’ll just take the next base or score. Just throw, directly, accurately and quickly, to the base in front of him.”
Front and Center Fielder
Another example of the inadequacy of statistics (yes, even notwithstanding his 12 Gold Gloves) to capture the magic of Mays was his astounding fielding. His combination of speed, quickness, and especially instinct was difficult to comprehend.
You cannot look up how many baserunners didn’t dare run on his arm or how many otherwise-certain hits became outs when Willie made catches no other outfielder would have attempted. For him, they resurrected a saying originally used on Tris Speaker, the great center fielder before him: Willie’s glove was ”where triples go to die”.
It Dawned On Me
Even Mays had an off day now and then. Dad and I saw a few. Two I remember.
One game, he struck out his first three at-bats. Then he drew a walk, stole second and third, and scored on a short fly ball to the outfield. In the other, Mays went 0 for 4 and had a miserable game – except for the absolutely ridiculous catch and throw he made from center field to turn certain runs into a double play.
After one of these two games, I said, “You know, Dad, it’s almost as if Willie can’t stand the thought of fans going home without seeing something special from him every single game. He takes personal responsibility for me, us, not leaving disappointed after paying to see a game. And this is an AWAY game!”
Guess Why the Giants Led Baseball in Away Attendance Many Years
Away games involving Willie Mays were like none other. Even in Philly, perhaps especially in Philly where fans are tough but knowledgeable, Mays was treated differently than any other visiting athlete I can recall. When he came out to the on-deck circle, the crowd stirred. The crescendo started as he began his stroll toward home plate. By the time he dug his cleats into the batter’s box, Mays was greeted with a raucous, sustained standing ovation. In fact, each of his at-bats drew a standing ovation. Then the crowd would go back to cheering their Phillies.
In an interview many years later, Willie confirmed my impression of exactly how he felt about the fans, all fans. He even used some of the same wording. He felt he owed the fans who came to any game something special and hated the thought of not providing it. It was personal.
Giving Thanks for One of a Kind
Willie’s special genius was to grasp, like no one before him or since, the unique majesty and endless possibilities of a game that can end based only on the action on the field, rather than the running of a clock.
He was not completely unique in the passion he brought to the sport, though very few matched it. What I will never forget is the sheer joy with which he played the game he loved.
When I felt he was attaining unsurpassed excellence for me, and us, I was right.
There’s something else. Willie Mays, product of the Jim Crow South, collaborated with my parents, Caucasians he never met, to make clear the utter insanity of racism.
For this, and for all of the above – the skill, the excellence, the style, the thrills, the joy – I am eternally grateful.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Ken Bossong
© 2024 Kenneth J. Bossong