OCTOBER 29, 1889
The National League’s Giants defeat the Brooklyn Bridegrooms of the American Association, 3-2, to win the World’s Championship Series, a precursor to the modern-day World Series. The nine-game postseason match-up is the Big Apple’s first ‘Subway Series’, although that type of transportation will not available until 1904. (Nationalpastime.com)
OCTOBER 15, 1905
In Game 5, Christy Matthewson blanks the A’s for the third time as the Giants beat the A’s 2-0 to win the World Series. It will be the only Fall Classic in which every games ends in a shutout. (Nationalpastime.com)
By Chris Haft
A lot of us little boys and girls around age 65 and older cried together Tuesday night. It didn’t matter that we weren’t joined physically. We were united in our lifelong admiration of Willie Mays, whose death convinced us — maybe stronger than ever — of our faith in his greatness and the power of his very being which made us believe in the wonder of baseball.
The first Mays acolyte I heard from was a buddy from Menlo Park, Calif., where
I spent my formative years. Well into our adulthood, he would remind me, “Willie Mays can do no wrong.” Tuesday, my friend’s cell phone clearly conveyed the sorrow in his voice.
My aunt, who is hastening my recovery from illness, nurtured me with privacy and popcorn, which I nibbled as the notifications from friends poured in. The depth and breadth of people I heard from in such a short time was stunning. Mays’ passing was becoming a bonding experience for us to share.
My ex-girlfriend, who as a native San Franciscan understood Mays’ mastery, was next to text. Then came about 10 texts in rapid succession from college friends. Jeez, you’d think we were cramming for a final exam. In came another trio of texts, these from treasured high school classmates. I also heard from a pair of my best friends dating back a couple of decades to my days in Cincinnati. Celebrating and mourning Willie brought these people together for me. They called from the southwest (Houston) and the northwest (Seattle), just to talk about Willie.
I’ll leave the recitations of Mays’ baseball achievements to my former sportswriting colleagues (I will say that I saw him hit a home run on my 12th birthday in 1971). Instead, I’ll share a few moments I enjoyed with Mays the man, who visited the Giants’ ballpark often during my 14 years of covering the team (2005-18).
“Willie,” I asked him one day during spring training. “how did you stay in such good shape?” He puffed out his chest ever so slightly and replied with a sly grin, “I never got out of shape.”
When I was collaborating with Giants clubhouse boss Mike Murphy on his autobiography, I was hanging out in “Murph’s” office one afternoon with him, Willie and Joe Torre, trying to comprehend my good fortune. Think of all the interviewing I could do! Mays, sitting next to me, sensed my overeagerness. “Let them talk,” Mays whispered, urging me to just let things happen. The all-time great as interview coach.
One interview I DID conduct was with Hall of Famer Billy Williams, who insisted that Mays, not San Francisco’s catcher, called pitches from center field in an effort to win a game and end a Giants slump. I brought this anecdote to Mays, who laughed uproariously before saying, “Naw, naw, naw, naw.” But his laugh said, “Sure. Of course. Yep.”
I should have retained Mays as my agent. Learning of my per diem allowance on the road which one organization allotted me, Mays squealed in his high-pitched voice, “Forty dollars? How are you supposed to survive on forty dollars?”
Yes, this was a saddening day, to say the least. But once we’ve dried the tears that were prompted by the innocence of youth, remember how much fun we had while loving Willie Mays for all these years. Hold onto those memories, and Willie will live onward.
By John Shea
Willie Mays, the iconic and endearing “Say Hey Kid” who charmed countless fans with his brilliant athleticism and graceful style and was widely considered baseball’s greatest and most entertaining player, died Tuesday of heart failure. He was 93.
“My father has passed away peacefully and among loved ones,” said Mays’ son, Michael Mays. “I want to thank you all from the bottom of my broken heart for the unwavering love you have shown him over the years. You have been his life’s blood.”
The legendary slugger and center fielder was synonymous with the game of baseball, the Giants and San Francisco, where his 9-foot-tall bronze statue has greeted fans for more than two decades in front of Oracle Park at 24 Willie Mays Plaza. Mays was looking forward to Major League Baseball’s tribute to the Negro Leagues on Thursday at Rickwood Field in Birmingham, Ala., where he starred as a teenager with the Birmingham Black Barons.
“Today we have lost a true legend,” Giants chairman Greg Johnson said. “In the pantheon of baseball greats, Willie Mays’ combination of tremendous talent, keen intellect, showmanship, and boundless joy set him apart. A 24-time All-Star, the Say Hey Kid is the ultimate Forever Giant. He had a profound influence not only on the game of baseball, but on the fabric of America. He was an inspiration and a hero who will be forever remembered and deeply missed.”
Giants CEO Larry Baer added, “I fell in love with baseball because of Willie, plain and simple. My childhood was defined by going to Candlestick with my Dad, watching Willie patrol center field with grace and the ultimate athleticism. Over the past 30 years, working with Willie, and seeing firsthand his zest for life and unbridled passion for giving to young players and kids, has been one of the joys of my life.”
Mays spent most of his 23-year playing career with the Giants, six in New York and 15 in San Francisco, making him a cherished superstar from coast to coast. He hit 660 home runs, made 24 All-Star appearances and won 12 Gold Gloves. He likely would have won more, but the award wasn’t given out until Mays’ sixth season.
The consummate five-tool player, Mays was elite at hitting, hitting for power, defending, throwing and baserunning, and his ability to outthink and outsmart the competition served as a valuable sixth tool.
Mays wowed the baseball world with his aggressive (sometimes unorthodox) swings, patented basket catches and daring speed. He’d wear his cap a size too small so that it would fly off when he took off in the outfield or on the bases, putting a charge into fans.
“No player is better defined by how he did it than what he did than Willie Mays,” said San Francisco-based actor Danny Glover at Mays’ 90th birthday bash at Oracle Park. As a youngster, Glover watched the center fielder play in the late 1950s at Seals Stadium.
A pioneer who broke down barriers on and off the field, Mays received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Barack Obama in 2015, a half-century after he was named the first African American team captain in MLB history.
Mays said he never could have envisioned a Black president in his lifetime. At the White House medal ceremony, Obama told the crowd, “It’s because of giants like Willie that someone like me could even think about running for president.”
Throughout his life, Mays helped countless people in many ways including through his Say Hey Foundation, which is dedicated to providing positive opportunities for underprivileged youth.
“I do what I can for people, man,” Mays said in a May 2021 Chronicle interview, shortly before his 90th birthday. “When the kids ask me for something, I give it to them. Let them have it because they’re going to be here after I’m gone, and I want the kids to enjoy what they can enjoy.”
Mays was born in Westfield, Ala., just outside Birmingham, to very young parents, Willie Howard Mays Sr. and Annie Satterwhite, and was raised largely by his mother’s sisters, Sarah and Ernestine. Willie Sr. wasn’t always around; he worked in a steel mill and as a Pullman porter and also made money playing ball.
Still, Mays called his father the biggest inspiration in his life. “Cat,” as his dad was nicknamed because of his quickness on the field, introduced Willie to baseball and played with him on an industrial league team.
“When I played with him, I played center, he played left,” Mays said. “I said, ‘You play on the line, I’ll take care of everything else.’ … We could talk about anything, which was good for me.”
Mays was an excellent quarterback at Fairfield Industrial High School and loved basketball, but his dad encouraged him to stick with baseball and helped connect him with Piper Davis, the player-manager of the legendary Black Barons of the Negro American League.
Mays spent parts of three high school years with the Black Barons and helped them reach the final Negro Leagues World Series in 1948. After graduating from high school in 1950, Mays signed with the Giants for $4,000 and a $250-a-month salary.
Then 19, Mays experienced a culture shock when moving from the Negro Leagues to the Trenton Giants of the previously all-white Class B Interstate League, hearing some of the racial taunts that had been directed at Jackie Robinson, who broke the color barrier three years earlier.
Mays opened the 1951 season at Triple-A Minneapolis and was hitting .477 in late May when promoted to the majors. Leo Durocher, who became Mays’ favorite manager, anticipated the young player providing energy to his scuffling team.
Mays began his Giants career batting 0-for-12 and 1-for-26, the only hit a homer off Hall of Famer Warren Spahn, but provided enough flashes of his all-around game to be named the National League’s top rookie, rebounding to finish the season with a .274 average and 20 home runs in 121 games. He was on deck when Bobby Thomson hit his famous pennant-winning home run, the “Shot Heard ’Round the World.”
Drafted during the Korean War, Mays played ball with the Army for nearly two years to entertain the troops, as did many big-leaguers of the day. He returned to the Giants in 1954 to win his first Most Valuable Player award and guide the Giants to a World Series championship.
In the eighth inning of Game 1 of that Series, the heavily favored Cleveland Indians had two runners on base when batter Vic Wertz slugged a ball nearly 460 feet to center field at the spacious Polo Grounds. Mays chased it down, reached over his shoulder and made what is considered the most famous catch in baseball history.
Mays always said it wasn’t his best catch, and argued that his throw afterward is what made the play. In one motion, he gloved the ball, whirled and heaved a strike to second base, assuring that runners Larry Doby and Al Rosen would not score.
“I knew I’d get it. It was high enough where I could catch it,” Mays said in a Chronicle interview leading to his 75th birthday. “That wasn’t the problem. The hardest thing was getting it back to the infield. I knew Larry would score if I didn’t get the ball back quickly. I scored lots of times from second base on a deep fly that was caught.”
The game remained tied, and the Giants won in the 10th inning on Dusty Rhodes’ pinch-hit homer, the first of four straight wins. Fortunately, Mays’ catch was captured on black and white film, a benefit for ensuing generations to admire his defensive brilliance.
In 2017, the World Series MVP award was named in Mays’ honor.
“Willie saved the game,” said Hall of Fame outfielder Monte Irvin, Mays’ mentor and first roommate with the Giants. “If the Indians won that first game, they might’ve been the ones to win four in a row.”
Mays played in New York at a glorious time in baseball history as he, Mickey Mantle of the Yankees and Duke Snider of the Dodgers were the subject of a great debate throughout the boroughs: Who was the best center fielder: Willie, Mickey or the Duke?
Mays, who said Mantle was the fastest and most powerful, wound up outlasting the two other legends and compiling far better career numbers. Both Mantle and Snider later acknowledged that Mays was the best.
Mays was offered unconditional love in New York. It was where he got his Say Hey Kid nickname — courtesy of a sportswriter who noticed Willie at first didn’t know everyone’s names and would just say “Hey” — and was seen in the streets of Harlem playing stickball with kids.
After the Giants arrived in San Francisco in 1958, however, it took a while for Mays to be fully accepted. Yankees legend Joe DiMaggio had been a city favorite as a local kid and San Francisco Seals star, and Mays suddenly was playing his position in his ballpark in his town. Some folks were slow to warm to Mays.
Off the field, Mays and his wife, Marghuerite, were rejected when trying to buy a house in the prestigious St. Francis Wood neighborhood, because they were Black. The Mayses eventually got the house, but two years later, someone threw a bottle with a racist note through their front window.
Mays later married Mae Louise Allen and moved to the Peninsula town of Atherton, where he spent the rest of his life.
On the West Coast, Mays cemented his legend as the greatest Giant and, in many minds, the greatest overall player in baseball history. Many of his top offensive accomplishments came after the team moved West; he won his second MVP award in 1965.
The list includes his 3,000th hit, his four home-run game in Milwaukee, and his 16th-inning walk-off homer off Spahn that gave Juan Marichal a 1-0 victory (regarded as the greatest game ever pitched). He also hit the game-winning homer against Houston that helped the Giants force a best-of-three games series against the rival Dodgers that led to San Francisco’s first World Series appearance. Mays hit .455 in the three games with two homers off Sandy Koufax.
In May 1972, with owner Horace Stoneham financially strapped, the Giants traded Mays to the New York Mets. In his final season, 1973, Mays returned to the Bay Area in the World Series against the Oakland Athletics, which the A’s won in seven games. His game-deciding single off pitcher Rollie Fingers in Game 2 was his final hit.
“I didn’t ever want to be traded,” Mays said. “You’re with a club so long, you don’t want to go anywhere. But when I got to New York, it was like I never left. All the players hugged me and asked where I’d been so many years.”
At the end of his career, Mays ranked third all-time in home runs behind Hank Aaron and Babe Ruth, with 660 (he now ranks sixth) and finished with a .302 average, 3,283 hits, 338 steals and 1,903 RBIs.
Mays would have had more homers if he hadn’t served nearly two years in his prime in the military. The rough elements at the Giants’ longtime home of windy Candlestick Park also might have been costly.
“I don’t like to look at it that way,” Mays said. “I like to look at it as, I had a good 20, 22 years. I had my time, and I enjoyed my time.”
Mays’ career numbers were recently changed slightly after Major League Baseball reclassified the Negro Leagues as a major league in 2020, so statistics through 1948 — Mays’ first year with Birmingham and the final year of the Negro League World Series — have been added to the register.
Aside from his talents as a player and entertainer, Mays was known for his durability. From 1951-61, he missed just 18 games (excluding his time in the military) and is the only player to appear in 150-plus games for 13 straight years.
Mays is third all-time in WAR — a stat that measures a player’s overall value — behind Ruth and Mays’ godson Barry Bonds, according to baseball site FanGraphs, and could have won many more MVPs if today’s advanced data had been applied. Mays led the National League in WAR 10 times and led the major leagues seven times.
Playing when All-Star Games were taken seriously by the players, Mays was an All-Star among All-Stars and played to win — the National League went 17-6-1 on his watch. Mays tripled home Hank Aaron to win in 1959, and the Chronicle’s Bob Stevens wrote, “Harvey Kuenn gave it an honest pursuit, but the only center fielder in baseball who could have caught it hit it.”
In 1979, Mays was elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame by 94.7% of the electorate. In one of the stunning oversights in sports history, 23 voters chose to ignore Mays.
In another questionable decision, less than three months after Mays was inducted in Cooperstown, Commissioner Bowie Kuhn threw him out of the game for his association with a casino, Bally’s, even though Mays’ duties included little more than playing golf, appearing at charity events and signing autographs.
Kuhn similarly banned Mantle. Both actions seem ironic, considering how much today’s game associates itself with gambling outlets. One of Commissioner Peter Ueberroth’s first duties as Kuhn’s successor was to reinstate the two legends in 1985.
A year later, Mays returned to the Giants as a special assistant and ambassador, at first working with young players in spring training and, in later life, being available in the clubhouse to give advice and share stories.
John Shea is the San Francisco Chronicle’s national baseball writer. Email: jshea@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @JohnSheaHey
June 18, 2024
SAN FRANCISCO, CA – San Francisco Mayor London Breed will officially proclaim this Sunday, February 4, 2024 as “Willie Mays Day,” in honor of baseball legend #24 Willie Mays. A once-in-a-century date, 2.4.24 has never and will never again be experienced during Mays’ lifetime.
On 2.4.24, iconic San Francisco landmarks will be decorated in celebration of the “Say Hey Kid.” City Hall, the Ferry Building and Salesforce Tower will be dawned in orange and black lights, and Willie Mays Plaza – featuring the Willie Mays statue – and Oracle Park will also be illuminated in celebration of Mays. A special banner will hang from the 24 palm trees outside Oracle Park and the scoreboard will commemorate 2.4.24 throughout the day. Mayor Breed will be joined by Mays’ Godson Barry Bonds and Giants President and CEO Larry Baer in making the proclamation at San Francisco City Hall on the first day of Black History Month. The official proclamation will be shared publicly on 2.4.24.
As one of the best players in MLB history, Mays fostered unity, pride, identity and leadership. “Willie Mays Day” will celebrate the Hall of Famer’s impact as well as the grace, dignity and joy that he exudes. 2.4.24 will honor the example Mays sets as a hero and mentor, inspiring youth at the Hunters Point Boys and Girls Club that bears his name, through the Willie Mays Scholars program, the Say Hey Foundation and beyond.
Willie Mays said, “I am honored by Mayor Breed’s proclamation, and would like to thank the City of San Francisco and the Giants for this day. The game of baseball has been great to me, and not only was I given the opportunity to play, but I was also given the opportunity to help kids all around the world. To me, this day means I am loved. This is as much my day as it is for everyone who loves the Game.”
Commissioner of Baseball Robert D. Manfred, Jr. said, “Our National Pastime always welcomes the opportunity to celebrate the game’s greatest living player, Willie Mays. Major League Baseball applauds the San Francisco Giants and the City of San Francisco for honoring the best number 24 of all in grand fashion. To this day, Willie remains an inspiration to sports fans and baseball players everywhere. We look forward to highlighting Willie’s legacy at the MLB at Rickwood Field Game in his hometown of Birmingham this June 20th.”
“To sports fans around the globe, Willie’s accomplishments and persona as the “Say Hey Kid” resonate every day,” said Larry Baer, President and CEO of the San Francisco Giants. “2.4.24 is one more opportunity to call attention to a man who, in our minds, is the greatest player ever. We are blessed to play our games at 24 Willie Mays Plaza with his image at our front door.”
In a symbolic celebration of the Negro Leagues, and its greatest living player – Willie Mays – the San Francisco Giants will face off against the St. Louis Cardinals on June 20, 2024 at Rickwood Field. Rickwood Field, the oldest professional ballpark in the U.S., is the former home of the Birmingham Black Barons – the Negro League team Mays played for until the Giants signed him upon his graduation from high school in 1950.
Named in honor of the Hall-of-Famer, the Giants Community Fund launched the Willie Mays Scholars program in 2021 to make college aspirations come true for Black youth in San Francisco. Five scholars are inducted annually and receive a scholarship of up to $20,000. To celebrate “Willie Mays Day,” the Willie Mays Scholars application is officially open for the 2024 season. Fans may join Willie Mays and the Giants in giving the gift of education via: giantscommunityfund.org/wms.
Fans everywhere are encouraged to join the Giants in celebrating Willie Mays on 2.4.24. For more information, visit sfgiants.com/2424, and follow along with @SFGiants on Instagram, X , TikTok, YouTube and Facebook.
SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE-JOHN SHEA
Thanks to a mathematical marvel in the calendar, we get a chance to further celebrate Willie Mays. On Feb. 4, the stars — or superstars, in Mays’ case — will align for a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. Unless you’re 100 years old, that is. It will be Feb. 4, 2024, otherwise known as 2/4/24. Willie Mays Day, for all of those who will observe while realizing Mays’ number 24 is the most revered in the franchise history of the San Francisco Giants and one of the most revered in all of sports. Hoist a glass. High-five a buddy. Hug your kid. Honor baseball’s greatest overall player. Including at 2:24 p.m. Or if you dare, 2:24 a.m.
Many forces are collaborating to celebrate 2/4/24, in particular the mayor’s office and the Giants. City Hall will be lit up in orange and black, and 24 Willie Mays Plaza and the Oracle Park scoreboard will be dressed up accordingly. A proclamation by the city will be made to recognize 2/4/24 as Willie Mays Day, and the day will tie in with the Giants’ plans for Black History Month, including an announcement on the Willie Mays Scholars program. It will serve as their launch campaign for the Giants-Cardinals game on June 20 at historic Rickwood Field, where a teenaged Mays played in the Negro leagues as the center fielder of the legendary Birmingham Black Barons in Alabama.
Honoring the Say Hey Kid on 2/4/24 was the brainchild of Adam Swig, a friend of Mays who was struck by the calendar coincidence and began passing word that the momentous date was coming. Swig, founder and executive director of the California nonprofit Value Culture, contacted Giants CEO Larry Baer, who reached out to Mayor London Breed. Both showed immediate interest.
“Willie Mays made 24 cool,” said Swig, who rode with Mays through two of the Giants’ three World Series parades and solicited many local eateries that plan menu specials on Feb. 4 to acknowledge Mays. “He’s the greatest baseball player of all time, an American icon and American hero. And one of the greatest guys I ever met, a great friend. It’s pretty simple to me. It’s his day. He deserves it. San Francisco loves Willie Mays. I hope everyone puts on their 24 jerseys on 2/4/24.”
The Giants’ marketing and communications departments have gotten involved, as has the New York Giants Preservation Society, a group of longtime Giants fans whose mission is to “remember, treasure and preserve the storied history of the New York Baseball Giants.”From Jan. 31, through Feb. 5, the society will rename itself the Willie Mays Preservation Society. “This is the least we could do to show our support for Willie. We love him,” said society President Gary Mintz of Long Island, N.Y. “We want to stand with the Giants. It’s appropriate. They were nice to us when the (World Series) trophy tours came here. It’s a great way to honor someone who means so much to so many. Ninety-seven percent of our group are Giants fans. Why? Because of 24.”
Mays followers get the relevance of 24 and might include the number in their passwords, personal ID numbers or phone numbers. They insist Mays is the greatest ever, arguing that Babe Ruth, who played during segregation, didn’t have the five tools to the degree Mays did, and that two-way star Shohei Ohtani hasn’t done it long enough.
Mays began wearing No. 24 his rookie year in 1951, though it wasn’t his first number in the big leagues. That was 14, which he wore briefly after getting called up from Triple-A Minneapolis. He eventually wound up with 24, which had belonged to outfielder Jack Maguire before he was claimed by the Pirates. Maguire’s other footnote in history: He was credited with giving Lawrence Peter Berra the nickname Yogi.
Mays wore 24 longer than any other big-leaguer, 22 years. No. 2 on the list, at 20 years, are Tony Perez and Miguel Cabrera, who retired after last season. Dwight Evans wore it for 19 years, and both Rickey Henderson and Manny Ramirez wore it 17 years.
Rickey, who was raised in Oakland, wore 24 because of Willie. Ken Griffey Jr. wore 24 because of Rickey. Mays is the reason Golden State Warriors legend Rick Barry, who grew up rooting for him at the Polo Grounds, wore 24. When later playing in Houston, because Moses Malone already was wearing 24, Barry wore 2 in home games and 4 on the road.
While 24 is iconic from coast to coast — in 2022, five decades after Mays’ final game with the New York Mets, the team also retired his No. 24 — the number is especially relevant in San Francisco. Surrounding Mays’ 9-foot bronzed statue at 24 Willie Mays Plaza are 24 palm trees. The right-field brick wall is approximately 24 feet high. When Mays turned 85, he was honored when Muni cable car No. 24 was dedicated to him.
“To sports fans around the globe,” Baer said, “Willie’s accomplishments and persona as the Say Hey Kid resonates every day; 2/4/24 is one more opportunity to call attention to a man who, in our minds, is the greatest player ever. We are blessed to play our games at 24 Willie Mays Plaza with his image at our front door.”
The last 2/4/24 was Feb. 4, 1924, which was seven years before Mays was born and seven months before the birth of Bill Greason, Mays’ teammate on the 1948 Black Barons. Greason, 99, and Mays, 92, are the only living ballplayers who appeared in both MLB and the Negro leagues as far back as 1948, the year of the final Negro League World Series, which featured the Black Barons and Homestead Grays.
An American hero and inspiration three times over, Greason was the St. Louis Cardinals’ first African American pitcher, fought at the Battle of Iwo Jima and has served as a minister in Birmingham for more than a half century, still preaching. Mays and Greason remain good friends and in steady contact.
Speaking of the Black Barons, the Giants will give out 20,000 Mays bobbleheads depicting him as a Black Baron on May 31, which is African American Heritage Day. It’s a Friday night game against the New York Yankees, coming a few weeks after Mays’ 93rd birthday, May 6.
Mays is dealing with health issues including with his mobility following hip surgery in spring 2022. He still keeps up with Giants baseball, engages in lively conversation when visitors drop by and greets them with his patented firm handshake.
After Feb. 4, the next 2/4/24 isn’t until Feb. 4, 2124, so the upcoming 2/4/24 might as well be embraced to the fullest.
Reach John Shea: jshea@sfchronicle.com; Twitter: @JohnSheaHey
The Mets did more than retire a famous baseball number Saturday afternoon, stunning a nostalgia-nourished crowd at Citi Field when it was revealed that Willie Mays’ No. 24 would formally be retired. The team honored its recent vow to recognize its rich franchise history on the day it celebrated the return of Old Timers’ Day. And did so note-perfectly.
Yes, 24 was Willie Mays’ number, and no athlete in American sports history is more closely identified with that digit than the “Say Hey Kid.” But it was also an essential piece of the heart of a woman named Joan Whitney Payson, a New York Giants fan to her core and a member of the team’s board, the lone “no” vote when the time came to decide on whether the team should move to San Francisco.
A few years later, Payson became the Mets’ charter owner, a fixture in her field box, the first woman to ever own a ballclub. And though she lived and died with her Mets, Willie Mays remained her favorite. It was her dream that Willie finish his career in New York. And in May 1972, when it became clear the Giants would make Mays available, she pounced.
Mays himself, comfortable in San Francisco, was unsure about moving East, knowing he was no longer the breathtaking force of nature who’d once roamed center field at Coogan’s Bluff. But Joan Payson made him a promise.
“Willie,” she said, according to team lore, “you’ll be the last Met to ever wear No. 24.”
That was good enough for him. Famously, he hit a home run in his very first game as a Met — against the Giants, of all teams, on May 14, 1972. He was 41 by then, no longer a kid, but it didn’t matter. Mets fans were delighted to have him back home. He hit the final 14 of his 660 lifetime homers as a Met.
But Payson died not long after Mays retired in 1973. Twenty-four disappeared for a while, but Payson’s wish was never granted. Someone named Kelvin Torve was somehow issued the number in 1990. The backlash was immediate, and Torve was soon wearing 39. Rickey Henderson and Robinson Cano were given special dispensations when they became Mets.
The number was in repose, but not retired. Not until Saturday.
History has often been cruel to Mays’ final days as a Met. Any aging ballplayer, any sport, the simile is always the same: Willie-Mays-falling-down-in-the-outfield. It is also a grossly unfair stigma. Yes, Mays lost a ball in the sun in Game 2 of the 1973 World Series. But so did Oakland’s Joe Rudi (who was 27) and Reggie Jackson (also 27).
The Mets were only in the World Series because Mays drove in a key run in decisive Game 5 of the NLCS. And in that wild Game 2 in Oakland? Mays’ two-out single in the 12th inning broke a 6-6 tie in a game the Mets would win 10-7.
But 24, in truth, isn’t being taken out of circulation for Mays’ 491 plate appearances with the Mets. It will hang forever next to 14, 17, 31, 36, 37, 41 and 42 because of what he meant to baseball New York, especially when he was young and he’d play stickball with the neighborhood kids in Harlem in his civvies after grinding nine innings in his uniform. It’s why Joan Whitney Payson fell in baseball love with him. And she wasn’t alone.
It will honor the .312/.387/.593 slash line he had a New York Giant; toast the .345/41 HR/110 RBIs he accumulated when he won his first MVP, at 23, in 1954; exalt the greatest defensive play of them all, the one he made that fall, in the World Series against Cleveland, running down Vic Wertz’s fly ball in the deepest pocket of the Polo Grounds.
Mostly, it will be a permanent reminder that the Mets were, indeed, descended from two baseball fathers. Past ownership was unabashed about the team’s ties to the Dodgers, but the Mets’ colors are orange in addition to blue. Perhaps Mays’ best days came in a uniform other than the Mets, but so did Jackie Robinson’s. And now 24 and 42 will be tied to New York’s National League team forever. As they should be.
Forty-nine years ago next month, a tired Mays walked to a microphone at old Shea Stadium and told a weepy crowd, “Willie, say goodbye to America.” But a part of New York’s baseball soul never truly said goodbye to him. And now it never will. -Mike Puma
Jaime Rupert has created this brand-new website as she attempts to get her grandfather Horace Stoneham inducted into the Hall of Fame. Stoneham is a polarizing figure to many of our members. Many feel he has been overlooked while others feel he doesn’t deserve the honor. When brought up in the past, it caused many mixed emotions with some of you. The website is very well done (a few errors will be updated) with many wonderful things on the site which might sway you or it won’t. The Willie Mays and Hall of Fame Giants (McCovey, Perry, & Cepeda) (Juan Marichal wasn’t available at the time), video comments are hard to ignore as are the testimonials written by Cepeda, Monte Irvin’s daughter, and Felipe Alou. She reminds us that the link (website) can only be viewed on your computer and not your phone.
www.horaceinthehall.com
Brand new book about the longest winning streak in MLB history, held by the 1916 New York Giants:
In September, 1916, the New York Giants caught fire and made baseball history. It’s a tale complete with Hall of Famers, has-beens, and never-weres. It includes players who are remembered for something completely different or are now forgotten because baseball has re-written them out of the record books. The forces that would help tear baseball apart and then bring it back together after the Black Sox Scandal are all here, bubbling under the surface as the Giants continue to win game after game. The streak has never been fully looked at or understood until now.
A new book by Jeff Wagner. Here is the Amazon synopsis: Honus Wagner, Duke Snider, Warren Spahn, Johnnie Mize, Frank Frisch, Willie Keeler, Steve Carlton, Randy Johnson. Some of the greatest players to ever play major league baseball. All Hall-of-Famers. But did you know they each have one other thing in common? They all played baseball for the New York/San Francisco Giants franchise at some point in their career! Whether at the beginning, end, or somewhere in between, they all wore the black and orange at some point, and will always be considered members of the Giants family.
They Played Baseball for the Giants? Explores these and over 25 other players that you may have forgotten or didn’t know donned a Giants uniform, including 15 MLB Hall-of-Famers, two NFL Hall-of-Famers, an Olympic champion, and a character from the movie Field of Dreams. So, whether their tenure lasted several years or several months, explore the fascinating stories surrounding how these players became a New York or San Francisco Giant, and what they did while they were one.