Willie Mays, one of baseball's all-time best players, died yesterday. As a New York Giant, he was my father's favorite player. I grew up hearing about him. When the Giants moved to San Francisco, Dad's loyalty moved right along with Willie.
So, although he was a lifetime New Yorker, Dad rooted for the San Francisco Giants when I was a kid. He was a Willie Mays fan. In conversations about Willie Mays, he usually tacked on the descriptive modifier "the greatest ballplayer that ever lived."
When one reviews his stats, there's a good argument for bestowing that title on Willie Mays. He finished his career as a New York Met, circling back to New York. Suddenly, Dad became a Mets fan. He took me to a Mets game, and I remember how excited he was when Willie Mays came to the plate. "Say Hey, Willie!" Dad whistled, clapped, and shouted, a combination of exuberant behaviors I don't recall seeing from him at any other time.
Due to his manner of greeting people, Willie became known as the "Say Hey Kid." I worked at the Mets stadium during his last season and kept an eye on the player's parking field on game days. Occasionally I got lucky and caught sight of Willie Mays sliding out of his pink Cadillac with the "SAY HEY" license plates. I always felt a sense of awe in seeing him. He had been a baseball legend to me from my earliest years.
I saw him on the field at a Petco Park event in San Diego about a decade ago, and I felt the same thrill. So today, in bidding farewell to another vivid childhood icon, I have a wistful feeling. Rest in peace, Willie Mays. And please "Say Hey" to my father for me.
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| "The Catch" - 1954 World Series |
