Say Hey! Willie got that nickname when he was new to the big leagues. He didn’t know people’s names yet, so he’d go up to someone and say “Say hey.” We’ll devote some more space today to this remarkable man and ballplayer starting with this from Frank Bruni’s “For the love of sentences” feature in his newsletter this week:
In a Substack post, Joe Posnanski described Willie Mays’s relationship with his own acclaim and fame: “Even Mays himself couldn’t quite understand it. ‘All I did was play baseball,’ he would say when approached by another fan with tears in his eyes. On one level, this was true. All he did was play baseball. All Robert Frost did was write poetry. All Grace Kelly did was play in movies. All Albert Einstein did was think about the universe.”
Willie was Willie, Jr. His dad, Willie, Sr., was named after Pres. William Taft who was considered sympathetic to Blacks. They both also shared Taft’s middle name Howard. Willie Sr. was a steelworker and Pullman porter, but our concern centers more on his graceful play in semipro baseball which earned him the nickname Cat. Willie’s mom Annie Satterwhite was athletic too: high school track and basketball. So he had the genes. But his parents were unmarried teenagers and his mom left him in the care of his dad and her two sisters and went off, married, and had ten more children. Willie stayed in touch with her into his major league ballplaying days.
Some of Willie’s stats are common knowledge for baseball fans, e.g., the 660 homers and the string of 24 All-Star games. He was NL MVP twice, eleven years apart: 1954 and 1965. But I only learned from his obit in the NYT that his 7,112 putouts (catches) as an outfielder ranks #1 in MLB history. And he had another 657 playing first base. His iconic “basket” catches were not for show — by catching the ball near his hip, he was in a better position to make the ensuing throw. And btw, if you delete the steroid users, his 660 lifetime homers place him fourth behind Aaron (755), Ruth (714), and Pujols (703). Consider as well that he missed the entire 1953 season and most of 1952 because he was in the army. The serious rankings compiled by players, writers, historians, etc., place Willie second only to Babe Ruth, as the greatest player of all-time.
[I have to correct myself on one point. Yesterday I stated that Willie’s throw after “The Catch” just missed nailing a runner, but in fact, it was a throw to second base that prevented the runner from first from advancing to second.]
Willie is survived by his only child, his adopted son Michael. Michael has been exceedingly private and almost nothing is known about him, such as family or profession. He is a good-looking gentleman, though, we’ll give him that much. And he often appeared at events honoring Willie.
The NYT obit was written by Richard Goldstein. Here’s how it ends:
Mays evoked the image of a “natural,” a superb athlete who needed to do little to hone his skills. But that was not the case. “I studied the pitchers,” Mays said. “I knew what every single pitcher’s best pitch was. You wonder why? Because in a tight spot, with the game on the line, what’s the pitcher going to throw? His best pitch. Curve, slider, fastball, whatever. His best pitch. Because I’d studied and memorized that, I’d be ready.”
When he was selected for the Hall of Fame, Mays was asked to name the best ballplayer he had ever seen. “I think I was the best ballplayer I’ve ever seen,” he replied. “I feel nobody in the world could do what I could do on a baseball field.”
Rest in peace, Willie.
The puzzle killed me today. I died at 7D: “Process of cell division.” Had to be mitosis, no? It fit. And I confirmed the OSIS. But it’s MEIOSIS. What!! Gimme a break. And one of the crosses was “Lead-in to normative,” which I couldn’t figure out was HETERO. And next to MEIOSIS was “Inspiration for an essay writer,” which I had no idea was PROMPT. It turns out when a teacher assigns an essay and suggests some topics, they are called prompts. Who knew?
It was a very clever and intelligent puzzle with clues/answers like: “Kind of electrons on the outermost shell of an atom.” Ans: VALENCE. And how about: “Dancer’s haul?” Answer: SLEIGH. (Think reindeer.)
Even Rex rated it “Challenging.” Get this — the constructor was Ella Dershowitz, an actress, and lawyer Alan’s daughter. Thankfully, she’s prettier than him. (BTW, my brother went to college (Columbia) with AD.)
Maybe you got your head caught in a ditch last night. That’s the opening line in this song by Ivy Tripp. Rex shared it because of the clue “Certain Ivy leaguer,” with the answer ELI, of course. Rex hates what he sees as a pro-Yale bias in the Times puzzles. I forget why. (Turn it up — it’s a rocker.)
From the Dull Men’s Club (UK), which is by no means limited to men, this post is by Naomi Ross, who wrote: Saw this in Asda today. Wondered if anyone has tried it!
OMG. Too funny. She’s covering up an O. It’s Chili sauce from Ghana.
That’ll do for a close. See you tomorrow! Thanks for popping in.
The Wellington Files 