How Willie Mays, the “Say Hey Kid,” inspired generations with his talent and exuberance, on and off the field

Long after “The Catch” and his 660 home runs, and the daring runs around the bases with his hat dropping, Willie Mays could still command a room like no other.

Mays was a frequent visitor to the downtown San Francisco stadium at 24 Willie Mays Plaza, with his statue outside the stadium. He often talked to his contemporaries and the younger generation of players who hung on every word spoken by a player they were too young to have seen play.

His commanding voice and high-pitched laugh were recognizable anywhere. He was simply the “Say Hey Kid” from his days patrolling center field at the Polo Grounds in the 1950s, when baseball ruled New York City, until his death at the age of 93 on Tuesday afternoon.

As Hall of Famer Ken Griffey Jr. said, “He will always be the godfather of all center fielders.”

There may be players who have hit more home runs, won more Gold Gloves, had more hits, and won more World Series titles than May. But there has never been – and probably never will be – a player as dazzling and entertaining as he was over more than two decades on both coasts.

With a hat too small to fly off his head as he ran down the field and his signature basket catches, Mays was a showman who could do it all as the consummate “five-tool player.” Perhaps no one combined the ability to hit for both average and power, to run the bases, field and pitch as Mays did during his career spent primarily with the Giants in New York and San Francisco.

“Willie could do it all from the day he joined the Giants,” said Hall of Fame manager Leo Durocher. “Mays could do all the things you look for in a player better than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Although Joe DiMaggio insisted on being introduced as the “Greatest Living Player” until he died in 1999, that title was held by Mays for more than half a century.

The numbers are surprising: 660 homers, 3,293 hits, 6,080 total bases, 2,068 runs scored, two MVPs and 24 All-Star games despite missing nearly two full seasons serving in the Korean War. There were also 12 Gold Gloves, although the award was not even given out in the first five seasons in the championships.

But it was his joy that was truly infectious and inspiring, whether on the streets of Harlem, where he played stick ball with local kids before heading to the nearby Polo Grounds for his real job with the Giants, or in the surrounding stadiums. of the National League.

“You wanted to play like Willie and make the catches he made,” Yankees slugger Aaron Judge said. “The numbers he put up on the field and what he did are impressive, but he as a person and as a human being is even greater. a great.”

His greatness is best described by the reverence his contemporaries held for him.

“He played like he was the only one out there,” Hall of Famer Ernie Banks once said. “His eyes would light up. His energy would kick in and he would be ready to go. I had the privilege of watching and playing against such great talent.

“He played so hard that he inspired me to go out there every game. I couldn’t wait to play against the Giants and watch him.”

Mays’ ability to inspire went far beyond the baseball field. He was born in 1931 in segregated Alabama, began his professional career in the Negro Leagues and became one of baseball’s first black stars and the first black player in the major leagues to captain his team.

But he also endured racism from his time as a minor in the previously all-white Interstate League and in San Francisco, when he and his wife were initially rejected when they tried to buy a home in an exclusive neighborhood.

But later in life, he became almost universally loved.

“It’s because of giants like Willie that someone like me could even think about running for president,” President Barack Obama he said when he gave Mays the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2015.

Mays made his career when baseball was truly America’s pastime and baseball’s best players were the biggest stars in all of American sports.

He was honored with a song from Terry Cashman’s “Talkin’ Baseball (Willie, Mickey & The Duke)”, which recalled the great New York center fielders of the 1950s with Mays, Mickey Mantle and Duke Snider through the 1955 classic of the Treniers: “Say Hey (Willie Mays song”) which perfectly encapsulated his style:

“He runs the bases like a choo-choo train

Swings second like a plane

His cap flies off when he passes third

And he goes home like an eagle bird.”