A member of the SABR once said, “There are 499 ballplayers. And then there’s Willie Mays.”

It was way back in the summer of 1973. Camera Day. I was a few months shy of turning 8 years old. My dad nudged me closer to the railing along the third base line so no grown-ups would block my view. Mets players walked around the warning track, stopping every few feet to smile for the cameras. My dad clicked away on his little Kodak Instamatic. I was just feet away from my Mets. Something I still remember 40 years later.

Tug and Harry Parker rode around on the back of the Mets bullpen cart. Jerry Koosman, void of his cap, stopped within arm’s reach. Lanky Jon Matlack smiled broadly. Cleon Jone carried himself with swagger, looking every part the major leaguer. Rusty Staub carried a teddy bear. Then, an eerie hush, the calm before the storm, came over the crowd. The quietness gave way to a volcanic eruption of cheers and shouts. Carrying a baseball bat as if he was born with it in his hand came # 24.

As game time approached and my dad and I walked to our seats in Loge section 5 along first base, he leaned over and told to remember today. One day I would be able to tell my kids that I saw Willie Mays.

I was 7 years old. All I knew about this guy was that he had once played in New York a long time ago and made some important catch once.
When the topic comes up of who is the greatest to ever play the game, I immediately respond without hesitation: Willie Mays. Ruth didn’t have the speed, Williams didn’t have the glove, Cobb, although he played in the dead ball era, didn’t have the power. The Say Hey Kid didn’t just do it all. He did it better than anyone before or since.

Born May 6, 1931 in Westfield, Alabama, William Howard Mays was taught the game of baseball at age 5. His father, William Howard Taft, named after a US president, played in the Negro Leagues for the local iron plant. His mother was a talented basketball and track star. Willie had the genes.

Attending Fairfield Industrial High, Willie set school records in both basketball and football.

Upon graduating, Willie played for the Birmingham Black Barons. He caught the eye of Bud Maughn, a scout for the Boston Braves. Boston was interested in purchasing Mays. However, they dragged their feet and could not come to an agreement with the Barons. Had the Braves moved quicker, it’s likely that Willie would have been teammates with Hank Aaron.

Brooklyn was also interested in Mays, but by the time they got around to it, he’d already been signed by their crosstown rivals, the hated New York Giants.

There was no Roy Hobbs moment when Willie took the field in 1951. He didn’t knock the cover off the ball in his first AB. As a matter of fact, he went 0-for-his first 12. Then, his first hit came: A towering HR off future Hall of Famer Warren Spahn. Spahn later joked, “For the first sixty feet, it was a hell of a pitch.”

Willie hit 274-20-68 in 121 games and won the NL Rookie of the Year. It was Mays who was on deck later that season when Bobby Thomson hit ‘the shot heard round the world.’

The Giants lost the Series in 6 to the Yankees. Mays, along with Monte Irvin and Hank Thomson, were the first all-African-American outfield in baseball history.

After only 127 AB’s the following year, Uncle Sam came calling. Willie was drafted into the Army. He would not return to the majors until 1954. He missed 266 games.

But when he did return in 1954, he returned with a bang. He won his first of 2 MVP’s, hitting a league best 345 along with 41 HR’s. The Giants crushed the heavily favored Indians in 4 straight. The Series is best remembered for Willie’s iconic catch off the bat of Vic Wertz. In what is possibly the most popular image in Baseball history, The Say Hey Kid thus elevated himself to mythical proportions. This was the start of a legend. Modest Willie stated years later, “I don’t compare ‘em. I just catch ‘em.”

It was the last World Series the Giants ever won in New York. The team would not win another until 2010.

That season Willie earned $12,500.

The Giants played 3 more years in NY and over that span, Willie averaged 316, compiled 122 HR’s, 551 hits, 112 XBH, knocked in 308. Oh, and also managed to steal 102 bases.

In 1957, he became a member of the 20-20-20 club. 20 doubles, 20 triples and 20 HR’s. No player has done that since.

Willie Mays was not just a great ballplayer. He was fun, colorful and exciting. He had ‘a lot of little boy in him’ and that showed, both on and off the field. “I like to play happy,” he stated. “Baseball is a fun game. I love it.”

Willie was not only larger than life ON the field but off the field as well. He’d frequently hang out in Harlem, playing stick ball with neighborhood kids. When the Giants moved to San Francisco, he continued the tradition, playing in the sandlots with local kids. He truly was loved coast to coast.

Willie had no trouble winning the hearts of San Francisco fans. His first year out west he hit a career high 347. And although the Giants initially struggled in San Francisco, Willie continued putting up
Hall of Fame numbers.

On April 30, 1961, Mays hit 4 HR’s in a game. He was in the on-deck circle when the final out was recorded.

In 1962 the Giants won a tight pennant race and met the Yankees in the Fall Classic. The Giants lost in a heartbreaking 7 games. Willie hit just 250. He would not appear in another World Series until 1973.

July 2, 1963 is what many claim to be the best baseball game ever played. Two future Hall of Famers, Juan Marichal and Warren Spahn, dueled it out. For 16 innings the game was scoreless. It was like a heavyweight fight between two warriors who refused to go down. In the 16^th inning, it was Willie Mays who delivered the knockout blow, hitting a HR and giving SF a 1-0 win.

In turn, this added yet another historical fact to the lore of Mays. He is the only player to hit a HR in every inning, 1 thru 16.

It was 1964. Willie’s friend and teammate Bobby Bonds welcomed a son into the world and named him Barry. He asked Willie to be the newborn’s Godfather.

August 22, 1965 is widely regarded as one of the ugliest days in Baseball history. The Giants and Dodgers were embroiled in a tight pennant race. Tension was high, tempers were short. Things boiled over. Juan Marichal hit Dodgers catcher Johnny Roseboro in the head with a bat. And then all hell broke loose. Red Sox/Yankees had nothing on this. This was not the usual bench clearing brawl where a couple guys tousle and everyone else stands around. This was an all-out war that went on for 14 minutes. Players were bloodied, uniforms shredded. It was Willie along with Sandy Koufax who restored order. Just a few years ago, Marichal stated, “Had Willie and Koufax not ended that, we’d probably still be going at it today.”

The following year, 1965, Willie surpassed another historic milestone. He hit his 500^th HR, a blast off of Don Nottebart. When he returned to the dugout he was met by now teammate Warren Spahn. 13 years earlier it was Spahn who gave up Willie’s very first HR. The veteran LHP asked him, “Was it anything like the same feeling?” Willie responded, “Exactly the same feeling. Same pitch, too.”

Shortly after Jerry Koosman got Orioles second baseman Davey Johnson to fly out to left in October 69 and the Mets proved miracles can come true, The Sporting News named Willie Mays ‘The Player of the Decade.’

By early 1972, age was catching up to The Say Hey Kid. The Giants were struggling financially. Owner Horace Stoneham regrettably advised the Giant legend that he could not afford to offer Willie any type of position or financial reward upon his retirement. Enter the Mets.

Mets owner Joan Payson had been a minority shareholder for the New York Giants. In the late 50’s, she fought hard to keep them in New York. Payson watched her beloved Giants move 3000 miles away, longing for the day when her adored and cherished Willie Mays would somehow return to New York. That opportunity presented itself now.

Payson saw the chance, fought hard to get Willie back to New York and offered him a coaching position upon retirement. In early May the Mets sent Charlie Williams and $50,000 to Stoneham. The Say Hey Kid was back in New York, just 10 miles away from where the Polo Grounds once stood. And where the legend of Willie Mays was born.

It was a rainy Sunday, May 14, when Willie wore “NY” on his cap for the first time in fifteen years. In the fifth inning of his debut game, Willie, as always, rose to the occasion. He hit a HR that put the Mets ahead to stay. The losing team was, yes, the Giants.

August 17^th of the following season, 1973, Mays hit a solo HR off Reds starter Don Gullett. It was # 660, the final one of his illustrious career.

The Mets shocked baseball once again, coming back from the dead and from last place to find themselves battling the A’s in the World Series. At age 42, Willie became the oldest player to appear in the Fall Classic. He got the Mets first hit in the World Series.

Willie only had 7 AB’s against Oakland. He got 2 hits, including the game winner in the 12 inning Game 2. In spite of Willie’s hit tying up the Series, it was a heartbreaking day for fans of the game. And for fans of Willie. He misplayed a routine fly ball, losing it in the glare of the northern California sunlight. Just across the bay from where Willie established himself as the best fielding CF-er of all time, he dropped a fly ball hit directly to him. After the game, he commented, “Growing old is just a helpless hurt.”

In 1979, William Howard Mays was enshrined in Baseball immortality. He was elected to the Hall of Fame with 95% of the vote. Amazingly, 23 sportswriters did not include Mays on their ballot. Caustic New York columnist Dick Young, never at a loss for biting sarcasm, stated, “If Jesus Christ were to show up with his old glove, some guys wouldn’t vote for him. He dropped the cross three times, didn’t he?”

Willie was at or near the top of every offensive category at the time of his retirement. And in spite of the steroid era, smaller stadiums and weaker pitching staffs, he remains a “giant” among the greats: 660 Home Runs (4^th), 1903 RBI’s (10^th), 3283 hits (11^th), 2062 runs (7^th), 10881 at-bats, 557 slugging (19^th now but 10^th at retirement). All this plus a lifetime batting average of 302 and oh yea, 338 Steals, a 77% success rate on the base paths.

As impressive as these stats were and still are today, keep in mind Willie played the bulk of his career in the 1960’s, a decade dominated by pitching and cavernous stadiums.

He was a 2 time MVP winner (1954, 1965). He won a record 12 Gold Gloves for CF, a remarkable feat considering Willie had 6 years under his belt before the award was even created. And the fact that he played in the swirling unpredictable winds of Candlestick Park. His 24 All-Star games tie him for the most mid-summer classics with Stan Musial. In 1999, Mays was chosen as #2 on the Greatest Players of the 20^th century, the only living member. He holds the record for 13 straight years playing 150+ games.

In addition to his accolades, Willie, usually bashful, was honest and forthright. He knew he was good. And so did we. Some of his quotes:

“They throw the ball, I hit the ball. They hit the ball. I catch the ball.” “When I’m not hitting, I don’t hit nobody. But when I am, I can hit anybody.” “The game was easy for me.” When asked who he thinks was the best ball player he ever saw, Willie replied with a broad smile. “I think I was the best I ever saw play.”

As much as fans loved seeing him play, he was equally respected and admired by his peers and contemporaries.

Ted Williams: “They invented the All-Star Game for Willie Mays.”

Ted Kluszewski: “I’m not sure what charisma is but I get the feeling it’s Willie Mays.”

Mays’ manager Leo Durocher: “He can hit. He can run. He can field. If he could cook, I’d marry him.”

Reggie Jackson: “You used to think if you were winning 5-0 somehow Mays would find a way to hit a 5 run HR.”

Opposing manager Gil Hodges: “I can’t tell my batters not to hit it to him. Wherever they hit it, he’s there anyway.”

It’s been 4 decades since this little scrawny 7 year-old kid with a front tooth missing was nudged closer to the railing at Shea on Camera Day 1973, trying to see past all the tall grown-ups. It’s been 4 decades since my dad told me to remember the day I saw Willie Mays on a Baseball field. It’s been 4 decades and this little kid is now in his late 40’s. And yes dad, I still remember.

But for fans of the “New York baseball Giants” as they were once referred to, there were no remaining links to the glory days of the team. Instead, they were left to scan the box scores or change their allegiance to the Yankees. The latter choice was anathema to most of the Giant faithful, including my father, who had regaled me with stories of following the 1951 pennant race by radio as many had done, and had exulted with much of the city as Bobby Thomson’s  “Shot Heard Round the World” was broadcast. His favorite player was not Thomson, however. It was the Giants’ wunderkind, Willie Mays.

Mays had a place in New York baseball folklore as part of a triumvirate of great center fielders along with Mickey Mantle and the Duke, but had a penchant for near-mythical displays that seemed to supersede his contemporaries. Who could forget “The Catch” where he tracked down Vic Wertz’ missile in the 1948 World Series or “The Throw” where he ran to catch a shot in the right field gap and spun on the dead run to unleash a throw like no one had ever seen to catch the Dodgers’ Billy Cox at the plate? Not to mention an MVP season in 1954 and a 1955 season where he clubbed 51 homers, a feat that was downright uncommon in the pre-steroid era.

Mays would go on to more glory with the Giants, including a pennant in 1962, another MVP in 1965, Gold Gloves, perennial All Star appearances, and all the things that fans bask in when their team and their favorite player are in the limelight. But Mays was San Francisco’s now, even if those fans more readily embraced Willie McCovey. New York fans were left with their memories…and the Mets.

So, when the buzz began in May of 1972 that a deal was in the works to bring Willie back to the east coast, the “sleeping Giant” so to speak, of 1950’s New York baseball fandom began to stir. And lo, so it was, for a mere $50,000 and a middling right-hander named Charlie Williams, the Mets finally obtained what may have been the most symbolic link to the city’s baseball legacy.  And, largely symbolic it was, because at 41 years of age, Mays was clearly a shadow of his former self as a player. Still, his mere presence in a Met uniform was enough to drive fans into a state of excitement usually reserved for visits from the President or the Pope. Fans flocked to Shea for the series against Mays’ now former employers the Giants. Willie was set to make his debut as a Met in the Sunday game on May 14^th, but when the team needed a pinch hitter in the Friday game prior, fans began clamoring for manager Yogi Berra to send him to the plate. When John Milner emerged from the dugout instead, he was booed roundly “for not being Willie Mays” as I recall the announcer Lindsey Nelson reporting. Finally, the big day arrived and Mays was in the lineup, leading off and playing center field.

My dad and I watched the game together. He had been a fairly hard core NY Giants fan but had come over to the Met side of the dugout for the most part as his kids had “caught baseball fever” as a MLB marketing campaign had urged and gotten swept up in the championship run of 1969. But today was all about number 24 and his return to the fold.

If you are familiar with the game, you know that it began auspiciously for the Mets, with Giants pitcher Sam McDowell walking the bases full and then surrendering a grand slam to Rusty Staub. By the bottom of the fifth however, the Giants had tied the score and McDowell had been lifted in favor of right hander Don Carrithers. Mays led off the inning and unloaded on a fastball. As the ball cleared the fence in left and Mays trotted around the bases for the 647^th time in his career, my father stopped grinning long enough to tell me “That’s the way it should be.” Cornball, but I swear it’s a true story.

That homer provided the winning edge as the Mets prevailed 5-4, and even though moments like that would be few and far between for the balance of Mays’ Mets career, the memory of that triumphant return and its near-poetic climax (hitting the homer in the bottom of the ninth would have clinched the poetic part, but let’s not squabble over details) remains indelible. The Mets and Mays had helped the New York branch of Giant fans to reclaim at least part of their legacy and gave the team that abandoned them a swat in the process. For that day, it was enough.

A sheet of notebook paper, with the words, “Know your place, Rook … signed, your teammates,” was taped over Lastings Milledge’s locker in the Mets’ clubhouse in old RFK Stadium. This, in the late summer in 2006.

The Mets were en route to the playoffs and a veteran laden team was rubbed the wrong way by Milledge’s brashness and arrogance. Then-manager Willie Randolph – who reprimanded Milledge several times that summer – ripped down the sign, but knew he hadn’t ripped away the problem.

The Mets labeled it a misunderstanding, and Randolph called Lastings Milledge “a good kid,’’ but this clearly was not a misunderstanding with a teammate. It was the accumulation of several incidents that rankled several teammates.

This one-time cant-miss prospect was seeing his stock go down and his odds of scratching out a major league career was now just a game of chance like playing online slots.

Milledge burst upon the Mets, hitting over .300, was dazzling on the bases and showed a strong arm. He was going to be the next “fill in the blank.’’ Willie Mays? Roberto Clemente?

However, things quickly cooled after his first career homer, when on his way to the outfield he high-fived fans down the right field line in Shea Stadium. Randolph sensed how the Giants seethed in their dugout, especially since he saw some of his own players do the same.

Randolph reprimanded Milledge on the unwritten laws in baseball, but it didn’t take. There were ground balls he didn’t run out and times he didn’t hustle in the outfield. He was flash with the jewelry swinging wildly on the field, but in the clubhouse he often sat buried in his locker wearing headphones or playing a video game.

He came off as sullen and angry and clearly couldn’t be bothered by getting to know his teammates. Or, a baseball legend for that matter. During spring training then-GM Omar Minaya brought Milledge to the Nationals dugout to meet Frank Robinson, but Milledge was came off as being in-different.

Finally, he arrived in the clubhouse in Philadelphia an hour before a day game. Although it was early, the veterans made it in on time. David Wright had enough when Milledge strolled in with sunglasses and an iPod as if he owned the place and told him this wasn’t acceptable.

Wright wouldn’t belabor the issue Opening Day, only managing to say “seniority is big in this game,’’ which is the politically-correct translation for Milledge hadn’t earned his stripes.

Milledge popped into my consciousness today when I learned it was his 28^th birthday, an age when he should be in the prime of his career. Instead, Milledge is one of hundreds of baseball prospects given the label of “can’t miss, but eventually did.’’

Seven years ago – the career lifetime of a select few – the Mets had three prized outfield prospects in Milledge, Carlos Gomez and Fernando Martinez. One by one they arrived, fizzled to the point of exasperation and were traded. Not one of them hustled like journeyman outfielder Collin Cowgill.

After turning down several proposals for Manny Ramirez, the Mets eventually traded Milledge to Washington as part of a trade that brought Ryan Church – he of the concussion fiasco – and catcher Brian Schneider. Milledge had his coffee to go with Washington, then Pittsburgh and finally the White Sox before heading to Japan. Milledge had his head-scratching moments in each place, but basically stopped hitting.

At 28, Milledge is still young. It’s about discipline in Japan and if Milledge comes back with a changed attitude perhaps he’ll get another chance. It’s a long way to Japan, and perhaps an even longer route back to the major leagues.

MAYS: ENDURING IMAGE OF A FORGOTTEN TEAM

The Mets have made four World Series appearances, with each of those seasons and Octobers giving us cherished memories.

But, only one – the nearly forgotten 1973 team, with the still memorable rallying cry of “Ya Gotta Believe,’’ – identifies with the tumultuous ride this franchise has been on since its birth as the replacement child for the kids New York really loved – the Dodgers and Giants.

Think of it, the Mets’ colors are Giant orange and Dodger blue. The early rivals, before realignment with divisions, were against the teams that fled, namely because the wounds were still fresh.

Ah, c’mon, we don’t have to think that much. Let’s not go forty years to analyze. Go back only four when the owner of this team was criticized for honoring his beloved Dodgers at the opening of Citi Field – complete with the Jackie Robinson rotunda – more than his own team.

The Summer of 69 was special in that it was the first. It was the summer of Vietnam, the year after the race riots than burned numerous cities in America, including nearby Newark, and, the close of the decade seeing a man walk on the moon.

Countless times that summer, the improbability of the Mets’ drive to the World Series was compared to the moon landing. They were the Miracle Mets, but often overlooked in that season was dominant pitching, and dominant pitching usually wins.

That team doesn’t totally identity with the franchise because of how close it was to its birth. Seven years after first pitch in the Polo Grounds and the Mets are champions? That stuff only happens in the movies, and while it was a special, sometimes the ride is still hard to believe. Then again, there are some who still can’t believe man walked on the moon.

The 1986 champions did not identify with the franchise’s personality in that it was brash, bold and overwhelming, hardly descriptors fitting the Mets. During the season it bullied the National League. Only in the playoffs and its two Game Sixes, did it show the comeback, gritty nature associated with the franchise.

The 2000 team lost to the Yankees in the “Subway Series,’’ which was a marketing salute to a past that existed before the Mets were even a gleam William Shea’s eye. Wasn’t the whole build up of that World Series just a love-fest for what baseball was in the Fifties, the Golden Age of the sport in New York?

Remember, that was age that didn’t include the Mets and the Yankees won.

The World Series run that most identifies with this franchise’s nature was the gritty season of 1973. The Mets, as usual, were underdogs to Pittsburgh and St. Louis in the division, to Cincinnati in the NLCS, and Oakland in the World Series.

When the Mets won they’ve had good pitching. Tom Seaver was still here and joined by Jon Matlack, but they didn’t have a 20-game winner that season. They also didn’t have a .300 hitter and were at the bottom in runs scored. Save the 1986 monster and a few subsequent seasons with the Darryl Strawberry-Keith Hernandez-Gary Carter core, the Mets have rarely been a masher franchise. That’s just not them.

They were in last place as late as August 26. Then came the free-for-all pennant race in September, with the Mets getting a disputed call that enabled them outlast the Pirates, Cardinals and Cubs. The Mets won the win the division with a muddied 82-79 record, the worst in baseball history for a division winner.

For the number of teams involved, it was one of the more compelling pennant races in history, but lost in the mediocrity of the combatants. The still new divisional alignment required another step, which was the expected slaughter at the hands of the Big Red Machine, which was on its own historic run.

The Mets brawled their way through the NLCS with the enduring image being Bud Harrelson going afterPete Rose on a play at second. The Mets rallied to beat the Reds and hung tough against Oakland with their arms, those on the mound and Rusty Staub’s dangling at his side.

It was a season that showed the improbable, yet resilient nature that has been the Mets. The record typifies the franchise, which has lost more than it has won in fifty years. At 3885-4237, there has been more frustration than glory. The irony is it was managed by a man, Yogi Berra, whose career was all about winning.

From start to finish, the 1973 season most typifies the ride of this franchise than any of the other pennant winners. The 1973 team tells the story, with its collection of non-descript players joined by its best player and an iconic star on his last legs. The 1973 team overachieved, which has been a Mets’ signature, but left us unsatisfied and wanting more, feelings all Mets’ fans know so well.

The story of the Mets is captured in two images.

There’s the unabashed joy of Jesse Orosco in 1986 after striking out Marty Barrett to end the World Series as champions. There’s also the pain and anguish of Willie Mays – somebody else’s star – on his knees, pleading for a call in the 1973 Series.

Now, which picture best shows us fifty years of Mets’ baseball?

This season I will salute the 1973 team on New York Mets Report, with a series that each week highlights a game, event or player profile. Hope you enjoy.

Thoughts from Joe D.

John, I’m very excited to be working with you again on another new Mets feature. I loved the 1973 season. As I look at the image we have on the top of this post, I can’t help but notice how symbolic it is of our plight during the last 51 years of Mets baseball. So close, but yet so far… Next week, we’ll retell the tale of how the slogan “Ya Gotta Believe” first came about. All you newbies out there pay attention.

This season me and Joe DeCaro of Metsmerized Online will be collaborating on this new feature saluting the 1973 Mets.  Both on MMO and here on New York Mets Report, each week we will highlight a game, event or player profile commemorating that unforgettable season. Hope you enjoy.

CHIPPER TO YANKEES: Chop This!

I was very glad to see Chipper Jones reject the Yankees’ overtures for a comeback. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to see Jones have a change of heart, but not with the Yankees … not with anybody else but the Braves.

I’ve always admired players to begin and end it with the same team. That‘s what I want to see for David Wright. It’s one of the things I liked about Cal Ripken, Don Mattingly and Derek Jeter.

It’s rare these days for a player to retire with the same team he began his career with. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that way with Pete Rose, Hank Aaron and Willie Mays.

The Yankees’ stream of injuries prompted WFAN to run a poll of retired players fans wanted to come back with the Yankees. Ripken was on the list. I wonder if it is more a sign of respect or just not being realistic.

Incidentally, Wright is enjoying his time at the WBC, but I can’t but wonder if his time would have been better off had he stayed in Port St. Lucie.

Think of it for a moment, he’s going to be the captain of this team, so it stands to reason his presence would be beneficial to the younger players in camp.

However, perhaps the most classic image of all is of the number 24, back to the plate, running all out, catching a line drive over his shoulder, in the depths of the Polo Grounds.

People generally enjoy a hearty debate. Politics, abortion, gun control. Or important issues like ‘Who is the greatest player to ever play the game?’ When I’m asked I confidently state Willie Mays.

Babe Ruth meant more to the game and for all intents and purposes, saved Baseball after The Black Sox Scandal. But Ruth didn’t have the speed. Teammate Lou Gehrig also lacked speed. Rickey Henderson didn’t hit for any power. Mike Schmidt had a mediocre career Batting Average. Ted Williams, perhaps the greatest natural hitter of all time, lacked defensive skills. Willie Mays did it all. And did it all well. A five tool superstar.

Born on May 6, 1931 in Westfield, AL, he began playing in the Negro Leagues by the time he was 16. On May 25, 1951,Mays broke into the majors with the NY Giants. He didn’t exactly set the world on fire, going 0-for-12. His first hit was a mammoth blast that came off Warren Spahn who was en route to becoming the winningest LHP in history. Giants announcer Russ Hodges stated that ‘Even if this kid never hits another one, people will still talk about it.’ There were 659 more to follow.

To this day, anytime a center fielder makes an over the shoulder catch with his back to the plate, we immediately conjure up images of Willie’s catch nearly 60 years ago.

It was Game 1 of the 1954 World Series when Vic Wertz of the heavily favored Indians hit a rocket to straight away CF. With men on base, Willie turned and ran. And ran. And ran some more. Center Field was 475 feet deep (65 feet deeper than Shea).The only question was would Wertz be held to a triple. Catching the ball was simply out of the realm of possibility. But we all know what happened.

Ted Williams stated once, “The All Star Game was created for Willie Mays.” Giants manager Leo Durocher said, “He can hit, he can run, he can field. If he could cook, I’d marry him.”

There were great players. And then there was The Say Hey Kid. On April 30, 1961, Willie joined an exclusive club by hitting 4 HR’s in a single 9 inning game. He was on deck when the final out was recorded. On July 2, 1963, Warren Spahn and Juan Marichal dueled it out for an unheard of 16 innings before Mays won the game with a solo blast in the 16^th. He is the only player in history to hit at least a single HR in 16 different innings. Willie is also the only player to have a 4 HR game and a 3 triple game. He played in at least 150 games per year for 8 straight seasons. He is one of just 8 players to reach 100 RBI’s 8 straight seasons and surpassed 95 RBI’s 12 of 13 consecutive seasons.

His stats are impressive. He appeared in 24 All-Star Games, second only to Hank Aaron. He won 12 Gold Gloves…but the award was not even created until Willie’s 6^th season in the majors. He is one of only 5 OFers to have won at least 10. He recorded 7095 put-outs, most in history.

Along with Aaron and Ruth, Mays was one of only three players at the time of his retirement to have surpassed 600 HR’s. The man in 4^th, Frank Robinson, was nearly 100 behind him. His 660 total still places him 4^th. Of his 660 round-trippers, 22 came in extra innings.

In addition to his power and glove, Willie compiled 3283 hits and retired with a  302 Bat Ave. There were also 2062 Runs, 523 doubles, 140 triples, a 557 career slugging percentage, 384 OBP  and 1903 RBI’s. And he missed two years for military service.

For the 8 year period of 1955-1962, Willie also stole 221 bases, being caught just 64 times. A 78% success rate is good. But keep in mind, Willie was a clean-up hitter.

Sporting News  named Willie ‘The Ballplayer of the Decade’ for the 1960’s. And why not? Mays didn’t play in the day of steroids and small bandboxes. He played  during a time when pitching dominated the game. Koufax and Drysdale were in the same division as the Giants. There were also guys like Seaver, Gibson and Carlton. And the stadiums were cavernous.

But Willie Mays was more than stats and numbers. He played the game with flare and knew how to capture the dreams of fans everywhere. He wore a hat too small so it would fly off his head while running the bases, making him look ‘so fast.’ ‘Basket Catch’ entered our vocabulary thanks to Willie. Both in NY at the outset of his career and later in San Francisco, Willie would be seeing playing stickball with neighborhood kids in downtrodden areas.

In May1972, the Giants were struggling financially. GM Horace Stoneham traded the aging legend to the Mets for pitcher Charlie Williams and $50,000. Upon returning to the city where his career began Willie once again showed flare for the dramatic. In his first game as a Met, the 40 year old hit a HR and gave the Mets a victory—over the San Francisco Giants.

His final HR, # 660, came off of Don Gullett on August 18, 1973. Willie announced his retirement, ‘saying good-bye to America’ on Sept 25, 1973.

The Mets, however, managed to squeak out the division title and get by The Big Red Machine in the playoffs. At age 41, Willie Mays was in the World Series, playing against the team across the Bay from San Francisco. Willie got the first Mets hit in the fall classic and went for 2-7 overall. However, the heartbreaking moment came when the aging superstar lost a routine fly ball in the sun. After the game, Willie stated, “Growing old is just a helpless hurt.”

After retirement, Willie served as a coach for the Mets until 1979. Shortly after his enshrinement in Cooperstown, Willie, along with Mickey Mantle, was suspended from Baseball by Commissioner Bowie Kuhn due to the fact they  were employed as ‘Greeters’ for an Atlantic City casino. This was overturned by Peter Ueberroth in 1985.

In 1999, Mays was listed at the #2 spot on the All-Century Team. His #24 has fittingly been retired by the Giants, although he offered his number to his God-son Barry Bonds. Barry refused, opting to go with #25 worn by his father Bobby when he had played for the Giants. On July 14^th, 2009 Willie was the special guest of President Obama for the All-Star Game in St. Louis and flew on Air Force One.

Outside the main entrance to AT&T Park where the Giants play is a larger-than-life statue of The Say Hey Kid. If you’re interested in seeing it next time you’re in San Francisco, you can find the stadium in the heart of downtown. It’s located at 24 Willie Mays Plaza.

He was Brooklyn’s CFer during what has been called ‘The Golden Era of Baseball in New York.’ And Golden it was. While Duke played CF for Brooklyn, Willie Mays covered CF for the New York Giants and Mickey Mantle played for the Yankees. Three of the greatest Center Fielders in history, all playing at the same time. And in the same city.

For the 11 year period from 1947-1958, at least one New York team played in the World Series every year, other than 1948.

He was born Edwin Donald Snider in Los Angeles on Sept 19, 1926. One day, the young Snider was walking home from a little league game. He had a good day at the plate and there was a strut in his walk to go along with his beaming smile. His father noticed the bounce in his son’s confident gait and commented jokingly, “Here comes the Duke.” The name stuck.

Snider broke into the majors in 1947 but struggled early. He played only 93 games his first two years, hitting just 241 and 244. He was a wild swinger. It was Branch Rickey who turned around and perhaps saved Snider’s career. He would have Duke stand at the plate during BP, bat on his shoulder and NOT swing. Instead, he wanted the young outfielder to call out if the pitch was a ball or a strike. This taught Snider the strike zone.

And now, he became The Duke of Flatbush.

In a lineup filled with future and should-be Hall of Famers such as Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, Roy Campanella, Gil Hodges and Carl Furillo, Snider was the Dodgers’ only LH power hitter. The RF wall in Ebbets Field was only 297 feet away, but it stood  38 feet high, higher then The Green Monster.

The Duke of Flatbush would go on to lead the NL in HR’s for 5 straight seasons. From 1950 through 1957, Snider averaged 36 HR’s and 111 RBI’s to go along with a 306 BA.

Brooklyn fans always stated ‘Wait ‘til next year.’ ‘Next year’ happened in 1955 when the Dodgers won their one and only championship in Brooklyn. And Snider was in the middle of it. He has perhaps his best year, hitting 309 with 42 round trippers and 136 RBI’s. In the 7 game series vs. the Yankees, Snider went deep 4 times and knocked in 7. In spite of his great numbers, he failed to win the MVP, losing by one vote to teammate Roy Campanella. Snider never did win an MVP.

In 1958, now with the Los Angeles Dodgers, Snider walked up to a young Giants rookie just before his first game in the majors. “Good luck, Orlando,” he said to rookie and future Hall of Famer Orlando Cepeda. Cepeda stated years later, ‘He was one of my idols. I almost fainted.’

In 1963, Snider returned to New York for one season with the Mets. The following year he returned to the west coast for what would be his final season in the majors. He played for the Giants. Another future Hall of Famer, Willie McCovey said of Snider, ‘He was just an all around first class guy.’

Duke retired after the 64 season. He ended his career with 407 HR’s, a 295 career batting average and 1333 RBI’s. He was an 8 time All-Star, winner of 2 World Series’ and was enshrined in Cooperstown in 1980.

By the 1980’s, the premier LH power hitter for The Boys of Summer had to make appearances at Baseball card shows where he charged for his autograph. He had very little in savings, did not earn a lot as a player and had made some bad investments over the years. In 1995, Snider plead guilty for Tax Evasion. He had failed to report $97,000 he made while appearing at card shows. Sentence was handed down at the Brooklyn Federal Court House, just blocks from where Ebbets Field once stood.

Edwin Donald ‘Duke’ Snider passed away earlier today. He leaves behind 4 children, his wife Beverly, whom he married in his rookie year of 1947 and throngs of fans who idolized him. Snider was the last surviving member of the 1955 Dodgers who were on the field when they won their one and only championship.

Starting back in 1883 through 1957 some of the best to ever walk onto a baseball field walked onto that field wearing a Giants uniform. Legends such as Christy Mathewson (373-188, 2.13 ERA and 79 shutouts), Carl Hubbell (best known for mastering the screwball and for fanning Ruth, Gehrig, Foxx, Simmons and Cronin in succession in the 1934 All-Star Game), Mel Ott (the 1^st NLer to surpass 500 HR‘s), Bill Terry (341 career BA and the last NLer to hit over 400), ‘Iron Man’ Joe McGinnity (246 wins in 10 years) and Roger Connor (baseball’s original HR king) all played for the Giants.

They were managed by John McGraw, the 2^nd winningest mgr ever. McGraw compiled a .586 winning percentage over 33 years. In 1904 the Giants won the pennant but McGraw refused to let his team play in the World Series. The American League was ‘inferior’ as he put it and they didn’t deserve to be on the same field with his team.

In 1951, the Giants trailed the Dodgers by 13 ½ games on August 11. Although Brooklyn played well down the stretch (26-22) the Giants took it to another level, playing an unfathomable 841, going 37-7. It was arguably the greatest comeback ever. It culminated with Bobby Thomson’s HR in a playoff game against Brooklyn to determine the pennant. Thomson’s HR is considered the greatest ever in Baseball history. Russ Hodges’ cry of ‘The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!’ has gone down as perhaps the most memorable line ever spoken by a broadcaster.

Willie Mays catch in 1954 is the best and most famous defensive play in World Series history.

It was October 1956 and as usual, Brooklyn was battling the Yankees in the Fall Classic. But as the Yankees prevailed in 7 games there was a storm brewing. Rumors were intensifying that the Dodgers as well as the Giants were considering moving.

Dodgers owner Walter O’Malley was seeking a new home. Ebbets Field, while beloved by faithful fans, was becoming run down. The surrounding neighborhood was unsafe. In spite of the teams unparalleled success throughout the 1950’s the small stadium rarely sold out.

O’Malley was butting heads with Robert Moses, the construction coordinator for the city. O’Malley set his sights on a plot of land at the Brooklyn waterfront. Moses, however, had the power to condemn the land. And he did just that. Instead, he tried to bully O’Malley into moving to Flushing Meadows. O’Malley was irate and began looking elsewhere. The exact spot that Moses had in mind would later be the site of Shea.

O’Malley was heavily courted by city officials from Los Angeles. At the time baseball did not extend beyond St. Louis and it would be too costly to fly to California for just one team. O’Malley needed someone else to move.

Enter Horace Stoneham, principal owner of the Giants. Stoneham was also looking for a new home. Their stadium, the Polo Grounds, was also badly in need of repair and Stoneham, like O’Malley, was getting nowhere with city officials. He had been leaning towards moving his Giants to Minneapolis. However, he was being enticed by officials from San Francisco. That, along with O’Malley’s skill of persuasion, convinced Stoneham to head west.

When the Giants Board of Directors voted, there were only two individuals who voted for them to stay put: Joan Whitney Payson and M. Donald Grant.

Grant would become the Chairman of the Mets. It was he who was the driving force in bringing Gil Hodges ‘home to New York’ in 1968 to manage.

Joan Payson would become the first principal owner of the Mets. But she never stopped loving her Giants. It was she who was very influential in the design of the ‘NY’ logo on the Mets cap. As a tribute to the city’s baseball heritage, she wanted to use the exact same NY insignia as her Giants wore-Giant orange but now on a Dodger blue background. It was also Payson who was prominent behind the Mets getting Willie Mays in 1972. She was determined to have her idol finish out his career in the city he started.

In spite of many great players playing in San Francisco, a championship has alluded them. Only the Cubs and Indians have gone longer without winning.

As an organization the Giants have won 21 pennants, but 17 came in NY. They’ve won 8 World Series but all of those were in NY as well.

In 2002, they lost the World Series in 7 games to the Angels. In 62, they again lost in 7 games, this time to the Yankees. Trailing 1-0 in the bottom of the 9^th in game 7, the Giants put the tying and winning runs in scoring position but Willie McCovey lined out to end the series.

In 1989 they got swept by their cross-bay rivals, the A’s. But that series was more remembered for the massive 7.1 earthquake that hit the Bay Area. The quake hit at rush hour, 5:04 pm. 63 people were killed that day. But many had left work early and were in Candlestick Park or at home preparing for Game 3. Had the Giants not been in the World Series experts calculate the death toll would have been between 400-500.

Since moving west the Giants have had 9 MVP’s and 4 Rookie of the Year’s. In 1981 they became the first team in the NL to hire an African-American manager. 2 of the top 4 HR hitters of all time, 3 of the top 18, all played in SF.

The NY/SF Giants have won more games then any other team. They have 28 players enshrined in Cooperstown, also more then any other team.

Some of the biggest stars of the last half century have been San Francisco Giants. Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Juan Marichal, Orlando Cepeda, Gaylord Perry, Will Clark, the Alou brothers, Barry Bonds and Jeff Kent have all played for this team. In spite of this, the Giants have yet to win a Series.

Based on that, it’s almost hard to imagine them winning it all with Posey, Lincecum and Huff. It’s hard to believe that Matt Cain can do what Marichal couldn’t. But isn’t that what makes this game great?

It’s World Series time. Welcome to October…

But we’re not. We’re Mets fans. And like a marriage, we’re in this for better or worse. Lately, however, it’s becoming hard to remain faithful and to love, honor and cherish this team.

Why exactly did we become fans of this team in the first place? Was it an older brother, a parent? For me it was my dad, a former Brooklyn Dodger fan who followed the Mets since their inaugural game. When I first learned baseball and incorporated Mets hats, jackets and t-shirts into my wardrobe, it was easy. The year was 1973, we went on to be NL Champions and were a good, competitive ball club. We had players, heroes, that a young boy could easily idolize. But what if it was now?

Imagine you have a son or nephew or younger brother who wants to become a Baseball fan in 2010. Would you steer his allegiance to this team? Why would you ask an impressionable child to devote a lifetime of baseball loyalty to a team and an organization such as this? Especially when there’s that other team in The Bronx?

It’s now approaching 25 years–a quarter of a century–since these Mets were Champions. To a young child, that is an incomprehensible amount of time. 25 years ago??? You might as well be talking about Babe Ruth. In the same time that we have won 1 championship and 2 pennants the Yankees have taken home 5 Championships and 7 pennants. They have won more Series’ in the last 11 years then we have won in almost 50. Now try to convince that young boy or girl to root for the Mets instead.

But it runs deeper then that. There is losing–and then there is losing. The Red Sox were cursed for 86 years but yet Fenway sold out seemingly every night and Red Sox Nation stayed faithful. The last time the Cubs were champions was 1908. Christy Mathewson led the league with 37 wins and Tim Jordan of the Brooklyn Superbas led the league in HR’s with 12. But yet, can you think of a more devoted fan base then the Cubs? The last time the Giants were Champions the highlight of that series was ‘The Catch’ by Willie Mays. The Giants, despite having some of the best HR hitters in the last half-century, have yet to win since leaving The Polo Grounds for San Francisco. Yet, their fans remain dedicated.

We, too, are no strangers to losing. For the first 8 years in our history we averaged 105 losses per season. But we were ‘lovable losers.’ Sure, we lost, but at least we were funny. Entertaining. It was Casey Stengel who said, ‘I’ve been in this game 100 years and I find new ways to lose every day I never knew existed.’ In the late 70’s/early 80’s we lost, too. The players we had were barely one step above AAA. But they hustled and they played with heart. And although Shea had 45000 empty seats every game, no one booed. We still cheered for them because at least they tried. One rare highlight during those dark days was when we won 5 of our last 6 games in 1979 to stay under 100 losses for the season. Times were so bad we were actually proud of that “accomplishment.”

When my father taught me the game, I asked plenty of questions. But they were all baseball-related. What’s the difference between a sacrifice and a suicide? What’s the difference between a passed ball and a wild pitch? But nowadays if your son is asking questions, they are of a different nature. How does one explain to their son or daughter why your closer beat up his father-in-law. Or explain Rape to a young child when they read about accusations surrounding your ace. Or explain why certain members of this so-called “team” refused to go to a hospital to visit wounded soldiers.

Even our own heroes have checkered pasts. I was too young to remember 1969. But when I asked my dad where those players were now the answers made sense to a 7 year old. Ed Charles retired. Donn Clendenon became an attorney. Tommie Agee owned a restaurant. Ron Swoboda was the sports anchor on Channel 2.

Move forward. How do you answer your 10 year old when they ask, ‘Whatever happened to Doc Gooden and Darryl Strawberry?’ Try to explain why part of the reason Keith Hernandez is not in the Hall of Fame may be due to his cocaine use. Or why Ray Knight, although series MVP in 86, was gone the following year for more money. Whereas my dad explained to me what a balk was nowadays one must explain what Rehab means.

Even our expensive new stadium has done little to increase interest. As bad as things may seem now, imagine how bleak they may look in 15 years. The kids of today are becoming the Yankee fans of tomorrow.

It’s difficult to be proud of anything Mets-related. What happens ON the field has taken a back seat to what happens OFF the field. This club has been transformed from a major league team to a reality show. But this season will end shortly. Jerry Manuel? Omar Minaya? Howard Johnson? Luis Castillo? Who will be voted off next? Stay tuned…

New York Mets acquire OF/1B Willie Mays for P Charlie Williams

I was just a lil’ boy when the New York Mets acquired Willie Mays from the San Francisco Giants to bring him back to New York for the end of his majestic, Hall of Fame career.

“Willie Mays was the best all around center fielder I ever saw play the game. Period. End of story.”

That’s what my 73 year old father told me recently as we talked about baseball over a cup of coffee and cocoa on a snowy day after Christmas in Western Pennsylvania where he was born and raised before moving to metropolitan NYC in 1961.

Willie was acquired by the Mets on May 11, 1972 for pitcher Charlie Williams, who, in a twist of irony, was born in Flushing, New York – - the only Met to ever be born in Flushing.

Willie Mays may well have been, arguably, the greatest center fielder to ever play the game. Many who saw him play, including my own father, even say he was the best all around player.

My Dad, who loves Stan Musial, said he thought ‘Stan the Man’ might have been better, but sipping slowly and after some reflection, he said, “that’s hogwash”. His own memories had been skewed by the bias of favoritism and time. Stan Musial was great, but Willie Mays was the best. That’s the beauty of baseball…we all have our favorites and opinions…

Willie was well past his prime when he was dealt to the Mets. Horace Stoneham, owner of the Giants, who had moved the Giants to San Francisco when the Dodgers left Brooklyn for LA at the end of the ‘57 season, was running into financial problems in the early seventies, and the Mets, owned by Mrs. Joan Payson, loved Mays. It was a perfect match. So, Willie came back to New York in exchange for Charlie Williams. (It’s a wonder Stoneham didn’t try to obtain more from the Mets. No doubt he tried.)

In his first game as Met, on May 14^th 1972, Willie was penciled into the lineup leading off and playing first base against, you guessed it, the San Francisco Giants at Shea Stadium. Willie walked and scored on a Rusty Staub grand slam in the first inning off Giant pitcher Sam McDowell.

After the Giants rallied to tie the score off Met starter Ray Sadecki, Willie came to the plate against Giant reliever Don Carrithers in the bottom of the 5th and proceeded to hit a game winning home run. The Mets won 5-4. As Casey Stengel would have said, “Amazin’ Amazin’ Amazin‘ ”!!!

Over the ensuing 1 ½ years Willie Mays became a leader on that Met team and helped the team to the ‘73 pennant. He was a shadow of his former self as a player, but was always a threat because of his ability and flair for the dramatic.

He commanded the respect of everyone that played, and opposing managers never wanted him batting in tight games as a pinch hitter.

There are many recollections from Mays’ fans. As for me, I remember a weeping Mays on his tired knees begging the home plate umpire to call Bud Harrelson safe in Game 2 of the 1973 World Series. As a young boy, I was in awe, asking my dad why Willie was crying. To this day, I recall looking back in the chair as I sat on his lap, to see my father with tears on his cheek. It left an indelible impression on me, as I’ve only seen my father cry on few occasions in my whole life. Two of those after his parents passed and once more after my mom’s father passed away.

I asked my father this past day after Christmas, why he cried that day, and he told me,

“Son, it was one of the more poignant moments I’ve ever seen. A grown man, who’d accomplished so much, and had been one of the best, with Father Time galloping away with his skills, on his knees pleading for the chance to go out a champion”.

Ultimately, the Mets lost that series, and Willie his chance to go out a champion. The opportunity absconded by a bad managerial decision, an injury to his teammate Rusty Staub, and Father Time…How sad…What could have been…

After having a 3-2 lead The Mets were in a position to bring home their second World Series triumph in four years. Alas, upon returning to Oakland, Met manager Yogi Berra decided to bypass George Stone to pitch Tom Seaver on short rest. A decision that has left many Met fans befuddled to this day.

Willie went on to be a coach for the Mets from ‘74-’79, ending his tenure and affiliation with the club as a hitting instructor in 1979.

Then Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, in one of the more foolish decisions he ever made, suspended both Willie and Mickey Mantle in ’79 for being associated with casinos’ in Atlantic City NJ. Neither of them endorsed gambling, they were just trying to make extra money through endorsement deals as greeters to customers. Commissioner Peter Ueberroth, realizing the foolish decision made by Kuhn, rescinded the suspensions in 1985.

So, on this new year 2010, for those who can’t remember, I implore you to go to your elders and ask them to share their thoughts on the “Say Hey Kid”.

And never forget that Willie Mays, arguably the greatest to ever play the game, was a New York Met, if only for a brief moment in time…