Good morning. It's Friday, June 21, 2024, the day of the week when I invoke quotations meant to be enlightening or uplifting. Today's lines concern Willie Mays, a man I'm writing about over the weekend (so please come to our home page on Sunday).
In the meantime, I'll just leave you with four quotations, two by Mays and two about him.
Willie Mays' first manager in the major leagues was Leo Durocher, a former Brooklyn Dodgers shortstop and Massachusetts native whose heritage was French Canadian. Maybe his ethnicity gave Durocher a leg up on other white ballplayers and coaches, but he was immensely supportive of Mays from the start. Here's how "Leo the Lip" described Willie in his autobiography:
"If somebody came up and hit .450, stole 100 bases, and performed a miracle in the field every day, I'd still look you right in the eye and tell you that Willie was better. He could do the five things you have to do to be a superstar: hit, hit with power, run, throw and field. And he had the other magic ingredient that turns a superstar into a super Superstar. Charisma. He lit up a room when he came in. He was a joy to be around."
Herman Franks, a Durocher pal named as Giants manager for the 1965 season, was asked why he gave Mays, a team captain, such latitude on the field – almost like a co-manager. "Because he knows more about those things than I do," Franks replied. "You got any hard questions?"
Playing in his early 40s at the twilight of his career, Mays returned to New York, where he began his major league career with the Mets – New York's consolation prize when the Giants left for San Francisco.
On Sept. 25, 1973, the team held a Willie Mays appreciation night in honor of his impending retirement – even as the Mets battled for a pennant. After a one-hour ceremony featuring an outpouring of affection from the Shea Stadium fans, Mays made his farewell speech:
"As you know, there always comes a time for someone to get out," he said. "And I look at these kids over there, the way they are playing, and the way they are fighting for themselves, and it tells me one thing: Willie, say goodbye to America. Thank you very much."
America, it turns out, wasn't ready to say the big adieu to the "Say Hey Kid." Nor did Willie forget where he came from. Years later, in a nod to history, Mays said this: "Every time I look at my pocketbook, I see Jackie Robinson."
And those are our quotes of the week.
Carl M. Cannon is the Washington bureau chief for RealClearPolitics. Reach him on Twitter @CarlCannon.
