Say Hey Kid — Baseball Bench Coach

In the aftermath of Willie Mays passing away over a week ago, I’ve asked others if they had the privilege of seeing him play in person. It led to some wonderful conversations, including my sharing a memory of seeing him on two occasions at Crosley Field in Cincinnati. I recall a Reds vs. Giants Sunday doubleheader where Jim Maloney and Sammy Ellis pitched against Juan Marichal and Gaylord Perry, a must see, glorious afternoon of baseball. The other time was a night game with my Dad. Mays batted third in that powerful San Francisco lineup with Willie McCovey in the cleanup spot and Jim Ray Hart the #5 hitter. During one at bat, Willie fouled off twelve consecutive pitches. I asked my Dad how could Willie do that? His simple response, “he’s Willie Mays!” There are other, easy to understand, ways to describe his illustrious career.

Five tool. Those unfamiliar with this baseball terminology might first check in Webster’s and the simple definition would be “Willie Mays”. It’s a baseball player with that rare combination of hit for power and average, speed on the basepaths, and exemplary fielding and throwing. All you need to do is to review Mays’ career statistics – 660 HRs (led the NL four times); 1,909 RBIs (5-time leader in slugging percentage); 3,293 hits; lifetime batting average of .301 (batted over .300 with 100+ RBIs ten times); led the league in stolen bases four times and triples three times; and 12 Gold Gloves (even though there were no gold gloves handed out in Mays’ first five seasons). His remarkable list of statistical accomplishments goes on and on.

Idolized. In reading the numerous remembrances of Mays last week, I was particularly struck by comments from the baseball greats. His godson, Barry Bonds, aptly described Mays’ play on the field as “another level”. Ken Griffey, Jr., simply said that Willie will “always be the godfather of all centerfielders”. And today’s superstar Aaron Judge might have said it best: “He was bigger than baseball”. But it just wasn’t the baseball greats; it was every player he touched. During his playing career, Mays would often hold court with opposing players who hung on his every word. And after he retired, Willie spent many days at ballparks talking with players about the game he loved.

Joy. Joy might be the best description. Mays played the game with passion. If you followed the storylines over the past week, I’m sure you heard about Willie’s lighting up the lives of young kids in Harlem prior to his taking the field as a New York Giant. Story has it that kids would knock on his apartment’s windows early in the day, give him 30 minutes to dress and eat breakfast, and then play stickball with him in the streets. He gave such joy to everyone who saw him play – sprinting around the bases as his baseball cap, sized purposefully too small, flew off his head, and my personal favorite, his basket catches of flyballs he tracked down in the outfield. He quickly got the nickname of “Say Hey Kid” (credit to sportswriter Barney Kremenko) for the spirited way he addressed his teammates and opponents, “Say Hey!”

Racism. Tragically, Mays had to endure racism for much of his life. He grew up in rural Alabama. Like many black players then, his rise to MLB in the minor leagues started in the previously all-white Interstate League where he was subjected to racist taunts and ridicule. Fortunately for Willie, Leo Durocher, manager of the New York Giants, inserted him into the major league lineup at the age of 20. Durocher played a key role in protecting Mays during his early career. While Mays was from all accounts soon beloved by the New York fan base, life soured when the Giants moved to San Francisco in 1958. Willie and his wife were rejected when they attempted to purchase a home in an exclusive neighborhood there. He never quite enjoyed the same kind of relationship with San Francisco fans than he had in New York.

The Catch. Mays’ over the shoulder catch in Game 1 of the 1954 World Series will forever be regarded as the best defensive play in baseball history. In the eighth inning Cleveland’s Vic Wertz hit a shot to deep centerfield and Mays sprinted back in chase. He caught the ball in full speed just before the ball would have reached the base of the outfield fence. Keep in mind that the fence was 455 feet from home plate at New York’s Polo Grounds, a certain Indians’ home run at any other ballpark then and now. Willie though remembered the play more as “the throw”. He quickly whirled around and threw a rocket back toward the infield. Cubs’ Hall of Fame broadcaster Jack Brickhouse was on the call for national radio, and described the play: “Wille Mays just brought this crowd to its feet with a catch which must have been an optical illusion to a lot of people!”

Wrigley Field. Interestingly, Willie maintained an ongoing friendship with Brickhouse until Jack’s passing in 1998. Mays loved playing at Wrigley, a chance to meet up with Brickhouse and and set hitting records while doing so. Of Mays’ 660 career HRs, 92 were against the Cubs, and 54 were at the “Friendly Confines” (an all-time record for visiting players). Additionally, Mays had a .342 batting average and an incredible 1.077 OPS at Wrigley. Ironically, the Giants were in Chicago on the day of Willie’s recent passing. Giants manager Bob Melvin chose to not tell his players of the news before the game. Word broke in the sixth inning as Cubs’ public address announcer Jeremiah Paprocki advised the crowd with Willie’s image appearing on an outfield board. The players, crowd, and the baseball nation mourned.

Rickwood Field. Two days later the Giants traveled to Birmingham, Alabama, to play the Cardinals in a game honoring the Negro Leagues. The hope in the months prior to the game was that Willie might attend. It wasn’t meant to be. Former Negro League players paid tribute to Mays throughout the national television broadcast. You see, Mays played at Rickwood Field for the Black Barons during home games while he was in high school, then traveled with the team throughout the summer. One of the great moments during his time with the Black Barons was facing the great Satchel Paige. Paige playfully referred to Mays as “the kid”. On Willie’s high school graduation day, June 20, 1950, he signed with the Giants for a $6,000 bonus, launching his great career in MLB.

In 2020, Willie Mays collaborated with national baseball writer, John Shea, to write a biography, also honoring Mays. One passage in the book is particularly meaningful, as President Clinton had this to say: “Willie Mays, just by being Willie Mays and playing his heart out and by being happy doing it, made a real contribution to melting the iceberg of at least more overt forms of racism.” Just by being Willie Mays! My Dad was right all along.

Until next Monday,

your Baseball Bench Coach