By Larry Hicks
OPINION – He lived a glorious and long life – but in this moment that does not ease the sadness.
Willie Mays, the iconic Giants center fielder, and the greatest player to ever grace a baseball field, died Tuesday in Palo Alto. He was 93.
His exploits on the field are undeniable, and in some cases legendary. Nearly two years of prime in the 1950s were spent in the Army, preventing Mays from adding to gaudy home run, RBI, runs and stolen base statistics.
For a baby boomer like me, the passing of Mays reminds us once again, and all too often recently, of the limit to life. Conversely it also evokes fond memories of growing up during his heyday.
When I think of Mays now, I think of my late father, who was a huge fan. It was a time when baseball was mostly heard on the radio, more than being seen on television. On radio I hear the voices of play-by-play announcers Lon Simmons and Gil Hodges colorfully describing the action.
Fortunately, in the 1960s I also saw Mays play in person a couple of times at Candlestick Park, the Giants’ windy home field. On a summer field trip during grade school I saw Mays and fellow slugger Willie McCovey hit home runs back-to-back. For a grade-schooler, nothing was more awesome.
Fans spent many a chilly night at Candlestick, their hearts warmed by Mays smashing a home run, making a phenomenal catch or running wild on the basepaths.
The California History Museum downtown has an exhibit dedicated to the hall-of-famer.
Mays is on the Mount Rushmore of my greatest baseball players, alongside Henry Aaron, Jackie Robinson and Josh Gibson.
These four men were more than ballplayers, they were heroes off the field.
Robinson is lauded for breaking baseball’s color blockade against Black participation. Mays and Aaron, who started in old Negro Leagues as teenagers, soon followed. Gibson never played in MLB.
Segregation, intimidation, hostility on the road – Mays and his Black contemporaries suffered it all but remained dignified, resolute and unbowed.
None other than basketball great Charles Barkley, who outside his comedic turn as an NBA television analyst can be very insightful, summed up the four’s impact. They were pathfinders, paving the way for the super-rich Black athletes of today.
“We have no idea what these guys have been through,” Barkley told CNN Tuesday. “To try to be great at a sport, and then deal with all the racial strife that these guys had to deal with, that’s what makes them heroes,” Barkley said.
“I met him close to 10 times and it was always an honor and a privilege,” Barkley said, adding that he, Mays, and Aaron are all from Alabama. “Their greatness and humility is what separated them from everybody else.”
Tributes to Mays are coming from luminaries inside and outside the world of sports.
In a written statement, Gov. Gavin Newsom said, “Mays was more than just a baseball icon. He broke barriers and inspired millions of Americans – setting records, bringing joy to countless fans, and becoming a role model for a generation of future athletes.
“His impact extends far beyond baseball. He became an integral part of San Francisco’s cultural fabric and a cherished member of our community. His legacy will forever be intertwined with the legacy of the city he loved,” Newsom said.
The death of Mays follows the passing of other icons of my youth over the past two years. They include Willis Reed, Vida Blue, Jim Brown, Bill Walton, Jerry West and, yes, O.J. Simpson, among others.
As West is to the NBA – his silhouette the model for the league’s logo – some prominent baseball advocates are pushing for a Mays image as the logo for MLB. I’m fully behind that campaign.
Mays should be immortalized. He embodied what baseball purports to be as America’s pastime. As there is a specific day that honors Robinson as a pioneer, Mays, another star with a national fanbase who started his MLB career in New York City, deserves a lasting memorial and celebration of all he was to the game.
A Giant among giants has fallen. And with his passing, the world is a bit smaller.