Willie Mays, the longtime center fielder for the Giants baseball team—in New York, then in San Francisco—died quietly at the age of 93 on June 18.
More than a first-ballot Hall of Famer, Mr. Mays was truly a legend and an icon on the American sports landscape. He was superlative both in statistics and in style.
He played most of his career when baseball seasons were shorter than they are today, yet in his career totals, he ranked 12th in hits, 10th in runs batted in, seventh in runs scored, and sixth in home runs—totals that would have been markedly higher had he not missed most of the 1952 season and all of the 1953 season serving in the U.S. Army during the Korean War.
Mr. Mays also won 12 Gold Glove awards—tied with Roberto Clemente for most all-time by an outfielder—as one of the top three defensive outfielders in the league.
As dazzling as Mr. Mays’s career accomplishments were in a purely statistical sense, they were even more dazzling to those privileged enough to actually see him play. Whether it was sprinting into an outfield gap to catch a line drive that no other player would have gotten to, or throwing out a baserunner with his cannon of an arm, or thrilling the crowd with spectacular bursts of speed and derring-do on the basepaths, Mr. Mays played the game of baseball with a flair that other human beings could only dream of.
Many baseball aficionados say that Willie Mays was baseball’s all-time greatest player. I’m not sure I would go that far, but I’m not sure that he wasn’t the greatest either. How do you compare players from different eras who played different positions? I still give the edge to Babe Ruth, who, despite abusing his body and shortening his career with wild living, had a career batting average of .330, hit 714 home runs, is first all-time in the stat that best approximates productivity on offense—OPS (on-base percentage plus slugging percentage)—was a top defensive outfielder in his younger days, and had Hall-of-Fame-level statistics as a pitcher, which was his primary position for about five years before he became an everyday position player.
But of all the non-pitchers who have ever played professional baseball, I don’t believe you can find a more complete skillset—catching, throwing, running, hitting for average, and hitting for power—than Willie Mays had.
Growing up in an American League city (Detroit), I never got to see Willie play in person. I consider that the greatest loss of my decades as a baseball fan. I had the privilege of seeing in person Ted Williams, Al Kaline, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Sandy Koufax, Pete Rose, and other greats of the game, but not Willie. My major exposure to Mr. Mays was during the annual All-Star game. Mr. Mays played in 24 All-Star games (second all-time to Hank Aaron’s 25), and he almost never failed to torment and defeat the American Leaguers. As a young fan, I resented the annual humiliation. As an older fan today, I salute Willie for his undeniable greatness and ability to take over a game. What a ballplayer!
A couple of personal notes:
One of my most vivid memories of Willie Mays was for something he did on the baseball field that showed not his great talent for playing, but his greatness as a human being. The date was Aug. 22, 1965. I was in New York City for the World’s Fair and read the ugly news on the Times Square electric light message loop: Mr. Mays’s teammate, pitcher Juan Marichal, in a moment of anger had deliberately swung his bat into the forehead of Los Angeles Dodgers catcher John Roseboro. The Dodgers and Giants were locked into a heated rivalry already, and this violent act threatened to take the feud to a whole new level. Mr. Mays showed great leadership and wisdom, hastening to Roseboro’s side and compassionately telling his opponent: “Johnny, I’m so sorry. You’re hurt.” He then used his stature as one of the sport’s great figures to act as peacemaker, comforting Roseboro and keeping the situation from escalating.
Another point to remember is that Willie Mays was only the 10th black man to play in the major leagues. Years ago, I read a biography of Mr. Mays. Early in his professional baseball career, especially playing in the minor leagues in the Deep South, he encountered the ugliness of racial discrimination. But Willie Mays was endowed with a natural graciousness that enabled him to focus on playing baseball and being the best man he could be regardless of how poorly others treated him. The longtime Giant baseball player was a giant of a human being.
Rest in peace, Willie. You will always be an American icon, worthy of our admiration and respect.
