Sez Me …
“Ain’t no grave can hold my body down.” — as sung by Johnny Cash
Willie Mays was life itself. He was baseball itself, how it was supposed to be played, and seen, and felt, a children’s game as done by an adult with a child’s enthusiasm and virtuoso’s flair.
His death is not going to erase that, or hold it down in consecrated ground, because memories of the man, the exuberant, magnificent player that he was, are written in indelible ink.
Willie Howard Mays was a carnival. He was Mardi Gras, a six-tool player who could hit, hit for power, field, throw, run and entertain. He was sudden. Totally unpredictable. The basket catch. Running out from under his hat. The smile. The pure love of what he was doing with that magnificent gift-from-God body awarded him.
Growing up during the 1950s in Little Italy, we played baseball as much as we could, far more than any sport. Hockey was out, eh? Even for all the kids who came from the Old Country, it was baseball. Never saw a soccer ball.
And we wanted to be Willie Mays, the Say Hey Kid who had become a myth prior to moving west from New York with the Giants. And we were a Giants house (I grew up despising the Dodgers, a rash that never went away).
Of course, we all tried the basket catch, which didn’t work for most of us. Two of my late friends, Mario Taormina, fast enough to get to anything when he felt like it, could. Stevie Massa, who made catches lying on his back, could.
But it was Willie’s, that catch, his signature at the bottom of his document.
I was a huge fan of Henry Aaron as a kid, and there wasn’t much Hank couldn’t do on a ballyard. But he wasn’t Willie. Hank was brilliant but nonchalant, a rattler in garden snake skin. There was great beauty in his game, and he was a better pure hitter than Mays, but Willie always was the leading actor, his name atop the marquee.
Henry’s home run production increased as he aged. Willie missed more than a year’s playing time in the Army and still hit 660 home runs. Mays played in New York’s Polo Grounds, not conducive to right-handed power, and San Francisco’s Candlestick Park, which wasn’t conducive to anything.
He not only was the greatest baseball player, he was the greatest home run hitter of all time. If he worked in those launching pads in which Aaron did, he’d hit 800 homers. I’m convinced. And I don’t believe he ever took the same stance two at-bats in a row.
Henry was polished. Willie had more rough edges, playing with a fervor that at times made him seem out of control. He wasn’t.
And yet, after moving from New York, where he was a deity, he never totally won over San Francisco, which befriended Willie McCovey and Orlando Cepeda. What the hell. Willie, Zeus everywhere else, just kept playing the kid’s game.
I once asked Vin Scully, who grew up in New York a Giants fan before becoming the Dodgers’ voice for a lifetime, to name the greatest player he’d seen. No pause to reflect.
“Willie Mays,” he said.
Following Mays’ retirement, Vinny told Willie: “You were dazzling.”
That’s a great word from a man great with words. Dazzling.
Can’t say this often. RIP to the best. …
Just imagine. What if the Padres faced great left-handers? Like da Vinci, McCartney, Alexander The Great, Napoleon, Joan of Arc, Hendrix, Dillinger and Billy The Kid? A merciful Koufax would throw from the starboard side vs. these guys.…
Is it possible for an MLB batsman to hit 100 homers in a season? Yes. But only if Kyle Schwarber faces Padres pitching every other game. …
The Padres seem to expect brotherly love from Philadelphia. It’s Cain vs. Abel. …
Jackson Merrill is having a fine rookie season and could endear himself with Padres fans who love to love certain players. So how long before A.J. Preller trades him? …
Ten NBA franchises haven’t won titles. That includes the Clippers. …
Twelve NFL franchises haven’t won a Super Bowl. And that includes The NFL Team That Used To Be Here. …
Hey, they both used to be here. …
The MLB Team Still Here is one of five that hasn’t won a World Series. …
The last person to have a worse time of it in Boston than Kyrie Irving was Gen. William Howe. …
These Celtics will not be a dynasty. …
Can JJ Redick coach the Lakers to success? Didn’t they pull Pat Riley away from Chick Hearn? …
Oh, by the way, after Riley’s playing days here with the Rockets, his brother-in-law put down the carpet in our first house. …
That means three of LeBron’s last six head coaches never have been in charge of an NBA team. In that no one is getting hired without his blessing, it’s his problem. …
The Philly Phanatic couldn’t hold The Chicken’s egg carton. …
Justin Timberlake was arrested for drunk driving in New York. There was one count on the DUI, for refusing the breathalyzer. Should have been two — another count for him telling the cop: “Do you know who I am?” …
Do these super-rich people have any idea what MADD stands for? …
Stephen A. Smith wants a new deal worth $25 million per year. But, although Jim Harbaugh is a great irer of Justin Herbert, it doesn’t appear he can talk Fredo Spanos into it. …
Question, and I believe it’s a good one, to Bicycle Lane Mayor and his Ham & Eggers: When you’re finished dropping residential high-rises without off-the-street garages into our communities, where are we going to park? Answers? None. This urban insanity has to stop. …
Schools that have a music curriculum have a 20-percent higher graduation percentage than those who don’t. Music makes you smarter — and happier. …
The Ten Commandments now will be on the wall of every Louisiana classroom. Moses would have asked to add an 11th if he knew this would happen. “Thou Shall Not Pay Attention.” …
RIP, Donald Sutherland. Hawkeye. His 16-minute turn in “JFK,” explaining all that went wrong with the Kennedy assassination, is my favorite scene by an actor in the history of ing acting. Chilling. Terrifying. Brilliant. Should have won an Oscar per minute. …
Look up Reggie Jackson speaking on his experience as a young black man playing — or trying to play — baseball in Birmingham, Ala., as might any young man. He, as many others have, discovered the Civil War had not ended. …
There is a film of Katie Ledecky swimming across a pool with a cup of chocolate milk on her head. After swimming a lap, she drank the milk. As Bania would say: “That’s gold, Jerry! Gold!” …
Kansas is trying to lure the Chiefs to the Kansas side of Kansas City, Mo. Could have difficulty filling out a roster if it has stricter law enforcement. …
Every time I watch the Tonys, I believe more and more the last bastion of energy, ion, talent, art, caring, freedom of choice and anti-AI creative brilliance, is Broadway.
