I watched the now legendary Giant-Brave game at Candlestick in which Warren Spahn and Juan Maricial each pitched shutout ball into the 16th inning. Mays led off the Giant half of the 16th with a homer to win the game. What seems not to be remembered when old timers recall that game is that in regulation play Mays threw out a Brave runner who was attempting to score from second on a deep single. Against anyone else, the runner would have been safe and the legendary game would have ended 1-0 in nine innings.
Against the Pirates, I saw Mays score from second base on a ball that didn't get out of the infield. Ed Bailey, the Giant catcher, hit a weak grounder to Pirate first baseman Dick "Dr. Strangeglove" Stuart, who bobbled the ball, grabbed it, took a swipe at the lumbering Bailey, and missed. Stuart looked up and saw Mays racing home. Stuart's throw was too late. Good thing. Mays slid over the plate at such speed he would have wiped out the Pirate catcher had there been a play.
Time after time I witnessed Mays streaking across the outfield, hat flying off his head, pulling in balls that would have fallen in for extra bases against anyone else. "Willie Mays in center field: the place where triples go to die," said Hall of Fame Dodger announcer Vin Scully.
I once watched a rookie loop a soft single to center and--when the ball died in the grass--bluff he was going to run to second on Mays. Willie didn't even pick up the ball. He just stood there and looked at the rookie, who turned and walked meekly back to first base.
Willie's 22 year career ended at the season of 1973. In 1979--his first year of eligibility--he was inducted into the Hall of Fame
Memories. I saw dozens of fabulous plays. Unbelievable plays. Now he is gone. Without him, for me, baseball will never be quite the same.
Personal note:
Mays was at the height of his powers the year I first spotted the woman who was to become my wife and
the mother of my children. She was in a college math class we were both taking. I had to find some way
to meet her. So I casually sat down beside her and after a few minutes passed her a note. "Willie Mays hit
a home run today," it read. She laughed--and at the end of class agreed to go to coffee with me. Years
later, after Mays had retired, she met him at a business convention. She related the story about his role in
how she and I had met. He laughed, whipped out a baseball card, and autographed it for her to give to me.
I took down my Monet collection to find a place for it on my wall. She still has the note.
Career Statistics:
Year G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI BB SO SB CS AVE OBP SLG
1951 121 464 59 127 22 5 20 68 57 60 7 4 .274 .356 .472
1952 34 127 17 30 2 4 4 23 16 17 4 1 .236 .326 .409
1954 151 565 119 195 33 13 41 110 66 57 8 5 .345 .415 .667
1955 152 580 123 185 18 13 51 127 79 60 24 4 .319 .404 .659
1956 152 578 101 171 27 8 36 84 68 65 40 10 .296 .371 .557
1957 152 585 112 195 26 20 35 97 76 62 38 19 .333 .411 .626
1958 152 600 121 208 33 11 29 96 78 56 31 6 .347 .423 .583
1959 151 575 125 180 43 5 34 104 65 58 27 4 .313 .385 .583
1960 153 595 107 190 29 12 29 103 61 70 25 10 .319 .386 .555
1961 154 572 129 176 32 3 40 123 81 77 18 9 .308 .395 .584
1962 162 621 130 189 36 5 49 141 78 85 18 2 .304 .385 .615
1963 157 596 115 187 32 7 38 103 66 83 8 3 .314 .384 .582
1964 157 578 121 171 21 9 47 111 82 72 19 5 .296 .384 .607
1965 157 558 118 177 21 3 52 112 76 71 9 4 .317 .399 .645
1966 152 552 99 159 29 4 37 103 70 81 5 1 .288 .370 .556
1967 141 486 83 128 22 2 22 70 51 92 6 0 .263 .336 .453
1968 148 498 84 144 20 5 23 79 67 81 12 6 .289 .376 .488
1969 117 403 64 114 17 3 13 58 49 71 6 2 .283 .365 .437
1970 139 478 94 139 15 2 28 83 79 90 5 0 .291 .395 .506
1971 136 417 82 113 24 5 18 61 112 123 23 3 .271 .429 .482
1972 88 244 35 61 11 1 8 22 60 48 4 5 .250 .400 .402
1973 66 209 24 44 10 0 6 25 27 47 1 0 .211 .304 .344
Total 2992 10881 2062 3283 523 140 660 1903 1464 1526 338 103 .302 .387 .557