Fans share their memories of Willie McCovey.
The news of Willie McCovey’s death was just a few minutes old when fans started writing to Chronicle reporters. The memories and emotions were hard to contain, and they wanted to tell someone. Here is a sampling of the notes, all unsolicited, some edited
Friendly to kids
As kids, we would sometimes take five buses from east Oakland to Candlestick Park. (You wouldn’t let 12-year-olds do that now, but we had total knowledge of AC Transit and the Muni systems.) Postgame we would bus to Market Street to roam the stores before taking a streetcar to the East Bay Terminal. A “must stop” was Manny’s Coffee Shop & Bakery. My mother (for permission to go to S.F.) made me promise to bring her a loaf of Manny’s cinnamon bread, as it was no longer available in the East Bay. While standing in line waiting to pay, there behind me was Willie McCovey.
My buddies and I were too intimidated to say anything to this very large man. He broke the ice and said, “Hi, boys”. Asked us if we had gone to the game (we ALL had Giant hats on) so it was an educated guess. Also asked where we lived (replied Oakland). He asked how we got to S.F. and the game. Told him four buses and a streetcar. He offered to give us three kids a ride to the East Bay terminal. We accepted the offer and here’s Willie Mac driving us in the largest car I had ever seen (new Cadillac) to the terminal. A story for all of us to remember (and few of our friends ever believed).
Willie McCovey ... a class man and a real gentleman.
Grace, style, compassion
I am 65 years old. My mother is now 98. When I was in elementary school, she would take me out of school for Ladies Day at Candlestick. We sometimes would take the bus from San Carlos, sometimes drive. Back in those days, Candlestick was still open at one end. After the game, players were very accessible as they came out postgame. I do not recall all the reasons, but my mother was set on me showing Willie Mac how much we loved him. I think it was during a short period of time that he was not completely embraced by fans.
I remember her taking me over to the gate and she would say, “When you see the tall Willie, you wave and cheer.” Sure enough, we saw that tall and lean figure. I still can recall the suits. The amazing and shiny sharkskin suit. I did my part, looking up at him and seeing that amazing smile!
Wednesday, I had gone to visit my mom in her care facility in San Carlos. I got in my car, tuned into KNBR, and heard the news. I sat there stunned, tears rolling down my face. I called my brother. The only word he kept uttering, over and over, was “Jeez!” Then silence. I called another friend and she cried out.
We all live a life that tells a story. At some point, that story comes to an end, the last sentence, the last word, the final punctuation! Willie McCovey lived life with grace, style, compassion, and humility. His story will live on and on and on and on. As it should.
— Laura Stewart, Redwood City
Imitating Mac’s swings
I was really bummed to hear about Mac. As kids we would all do the Juan Marichal high-kick windup, Willie Mays’ basket catch, turn around lefty and do the McCovey warm-up swings. My dad brought us to a lot of games so I got to see all those in person. I saw McCovey hit balls out of the ’Stick that would have been deep into the cove. Lucky enough to meet him as an adult. He took me on a tour of his house when he moved to Woodside. I was also invited to a party there. How lucky was I? People are often disappointed when they meet their childhood idols. Not the case with Mac, friendly, gracious and humble.
— John Harney, Los Altos Hills
Long drive, collective wow
With today’s endless headlines of athletes making onfield political statements, or acting as petulant prima donnas, or having run-ins with the law, your recounting of Willie McCovey’s modesty, accessibility, and loyalty to the Giants replenishes the soul.
When you wrote of McCovey’s “ferocious swing and the speed of the ball off his bat” I was drawn back to a moment when I witnessed this in person. Realizing this ages me, this memory stems from a 1970 preseason Giants-Yankees exhibition game my dad took me to at Yankee Stadium.
During the Giants’ batting practice, McCovey smashed a ball that seemed to vaporize as it rocketed toward the upper deck of the right-field stands. In our collective awe, fans for both teams uttered an audible “wow” as we wondered what it must be like to possess such human strength.
— Jeff Marson, San Mateo
A Peruvian fan
I came to the States from Peru in January of ’62, did not know a word of English and did not know baseball from a hole in the ground. I got caught in the baseball fever that fall and, by asking questions, reading and listening to Russ Hodges on the radio (bye bye, baby), I became a lifelong Giant fan. And while I cannot say that I was there during that seventh game of the World Series, I watched on TV, so I was almost there. Thank you, Willie, for the memories and for helping me to understand baseball and yes, learn English along the way. — Hector Castro, San Mateo
Wowing the teacher
My mother, an Irish immigrant, the first in her family ever to attend college, graduated from S.F. State and was hired to teach fourth grade at Raphael Weill (on Buchanan off Geary) in the early ’60s. Tough school. First day, the toughest kid in the class, Jimmy, picks up a desk and throws it out of the secondfloor window. He looks over at my mom and says, “What you gonna do?” Somehow she survives that fiasco, and a few months later, Jimmy is walking her to the car after school as a protector. One day he doesn’t show up. The kid has heard from a friend that his hero, Willie McCovey, lives in the penthouse of a building on Russian Hill. So Jimmy decides to walk over there. He finds the building, sneaks into the underground garage and climbs the stairs to the top floor, knocks on the door (simpler times!). McCovey answers, looks down and sees a 9-year-old boy smiling. He invites the boy in and makes him sandwiches.
At some point, McCovey asks Jimmy what he wants to be when he grows up. “I want to be a ballplayer like you.” “No,” McCovey says, “you don’t want to leave school like me. You want to go to college.” Later, McCovey drives Jimmy back to Raphael Weill and walks with the child into my mother’s classroom. He invites the whole class to a ballgame! And he stays in touch with Jimmy.
My mother loathed spoiled athletes, not to mention the American male obsession with sports, but she LOVED Willie McCovey; she followed his career and any mention of him in the media for the rest of her life. “A lovely man.”
Rian Cooney, San Francisco
From McCovey’s batboy
When Bob Lurie signed Mac to his contract to return to the Giants, I was so excited I got to serve Willie McCovey as Giants’ batboy and be in the clubhouse with Willie, a dream come true, and he was such a class act. I was so blessed. I mean, he was one of my heroes, and my relationship was very personal. I love Willie so much.
— Pat Quinlan, Mesa, Ariz .
Mac the dinner guest
I grew up in Manteca, just south of Stockton. During the early 1960s, when the Giants broke camp at spring training, they would travel up the Valley playing exhibitions in Fresno, Modesto, and Stockton. When they got to Stockton, my best friend’s older sister just had to hang out at the Stockton Hotel, hoping for an autograph or two. She approached Willie, and one thing led to another and she invited him to her home in Manteca for dinner. He accepted.
My friend called me all excited and frankly, I didn’t believe him. But I showed up at his house and sure enough, a large limo showed up and Willie came to the door. We had roast beef and mashed potatoes with Willie sitting at the head of the table. He was such a delight and a real gentleman. My dad, who played professionally in the late 1920s and early 1930s for the Oaks, thought Willie was a no-good, lazy ballplayer. That lasted about five minutes after he, too, joined us for afterdinner and dessert and got to see the real gentleman.
I can still picture him sitting at the table, a large man with a larger heart. May he rest in peace.
— John Baker Jr., Sacramento
Collecting McCovey cards
As a kid collecting baseball cards in the suburbs of Detroit in the mid-’70s, there was something about McCovey that was so appealing that I was determined to acquire every McCovey card. Who knows what I traded away to procure them all. I can’t explain my fixation. His class, dignity, strength and gentleness emanated from the photos on his baseball cards. He was and will always be my favorite Giant.
Farewell, Mr. McCovey. Stretch In Peace — Tom Richardson, San Luis Obispo
Dodger Stadium honor
Willie McCovey was an all-star in every sense of the word. I grew up in the ’60s in a suburb of L.A., surrounded by Dodgers fans. Nevertheless, when I was 8 I fell in love with the Giants and adopted “Stretch” as my favorite.
Childhood can be tough. My love of the Giants and Big Mac helped me through it. I followed every game, even through high school. I was at Willie McCovey Night at Dodger Stadium in 1978 — Willie was only the second non-Dodger to be honored with a “Night” — and my 40-year-old hero hit a home run! That was one of the best nights of my life. Thank you, Mr. McCovey, for all the great memories. — Steven Pinkerton, Wauwatosa, Wisc.