Willie Mays shares his appreciation for baseball’s newest Hall of Famers.
Hall of Fame ceremony stirs great memories
Willie Mays sat back in his swivel chair and smiled. He might as well have been sitting on the dais in Cooperstown with other Hall of Famers listening to the inductees giving their speeches.
Instead, it was at his home on the Peninsula.
“Good bunch of guys, good kids,” Mays said of the three players inducted into the Hall of Fame on Wednesday, all of whom had a little Mays in them.
Shortstop Derek Jeter was the embodiment of consistency and durability and a natural choice as team captain.
Outfielder Larry Walker was a five-tool player, a label that’s overused but certainly applies in his case.
Catcher Ted Simmons was known for his intelligence and instincts and seemed to be a step ahead of the competition.
The three players manned different positions. Helped their teams in different ways. And took different paths to
Cooperstown.
But the best all-around player in the game’s history appreciated them for how they uniquely stood out and carved their own paths to baseball immortality.
I had the honor to sit with the Say Hey Kid when he took in the latest Hall of Fame induction Wednesday, the only better place to be on Earth than Cooperstown itself on this particular day, watching the Hall of Fame ceremony with the ultimate Hall of Famer.
I wasn’t necessarily looking to interview the 90-year-old. Sharing the moment with him was plenty.
First Simmons, then Walker, then Jeter, the grand finale and the speaker who caught Mays’ attention the most. Donald Fehr also gave a speech on behalf of the late union chief Marvin Miller, who also was linked to Mays from the initial days of building the players’ union.
Mays’ admiration for Jeter runs deep. Both know what it’s like to play in New York. On center stage. Manning an elite position. As a team leader — 40 years after Mays was named baseball’s first African American captain with the Giants, Jeter earned the title with the Yankees.
Jeter, with his words, was especially cognizant of the Hall of Famers, including those who passed during the pandemic — 10 whom we lost, all of whom once stepped on a field with Mays.
“Selfishly,” Jeter said, “for me, it’s not the same.”
He added, “A special thank you to the Hall of Famers. Those that are here today. The ones that couldn’t make it. The men I played with, against, for, and looked up to and admired.”
Jeter spoke of the impact of meeting Rachel Robinson and Hank Aaron early in his career, two folks dear to Mays.
“The Hall of Fame family, they’re watching,” Jeter said, “so I wanted their approval.”
Jeter had a couple of exchanges with Mays later in his career. In 2006, in preparation for the first World Baseball Classic, Team USA had an exhibition against the Giants at Scottsdale Stadium, and when Mays emerged from the dugout, Jeter and Alex Rodriguez stopped taking infield practice and rushed across the field to meet him, each referring to him as Mr. Mays.
“Man, you guys are big,” Mays told them before sharing some inspirational words.
In 2007, moments before the 2007 All-Star Game at AT&T Park, Mays walked onto the field from behind the outfield wall, escorted by Jeter and Barry Bonds, and threw out a ceremonial first pitch while on the grass. Naturally, it was in center field.
And as part of the AllStar pregame show, Jeter and Ken Griffey Jr. interviewed Mays. Not surprisingly, it was entertaining.
“That was funny, man,” Mays recalled.
When Jeter asked him if anyone in the game reminded him of him, Mays said, “Junior was right there, but I don’t want to tell him in front of his face,” prompting a jubilant Griffey to pump both fists and say, “You made my year.” At the end of the interview, Mays called them both role models and noted, “When I see you guys on the field, I get chills. I’m proud of you.”
Wednesday was an emotional day for the former center fielder of the Black Barons, Giants and Mets. Those were his friends, the 10 Hall of Famers absent from the ceremony. Aaron was his contemporary, Tom Seaver his teammate, Joe Morgan his “little brother,” Whitey Ford his foe in the World Series and All-Star Games.
Willie has good stories about them all.
“A lot of guys that I had fun with are not around,” he said.
Then he flashed a smile when Tommy Lasorda’s name was mentioned.
“Lasorda, he and I had fun all the time,” Mays said. “And Seaver, good guy, good pitcher. We’d talk strategy before his starts, about how I’d play certain guys. I’d ask him questions about positioning, and he said, ‘Man, nobody ever thought to ask me this stuff.’ ”
At one point in his speech, Jeter reflected on the ballot in which he received 99.7% of the vote and laughed: ”Thank you to the baseball writers, all but one of you, who voted for me.”
“I got him beat,” said Mays, who can laugh all these years later that 23 writers in 1979 somehow figured it was a wise decision not to vote for him.
Jeter and the others read their speeches, which is typical. Unless you’re Mays, who doesn’t follow a script when speaking with groups or at functions or in front of kids.
“I couldn’t do that. That’s not me,” said Mays, who speaks like he played, improvisational with inthe-moment passion and from the heart.
Fehr was designated to speak as a successor to Miller, one of the most important figures in professional sports history who formed the union late in Mays’ career with the help of some of the stars from the time. Including Mays.
According to prominent agent Scott Boras, who spent time with Miller months before his 2012 death, Mays helped build the union by agreeing to go on strike if necessary for a better pension — Miller told the rest of the players if Mays was willing to forfeit his salary, tops in the game along with Mickey Mantle’s, they should, too.
“I knew Marvin well,” Mays said. “Marvin had Mickey and me go to a meeting in New York. That was important, and we didn’t give in. A lot of credit goes to Curt Flood, the kid from Oakland, who became an outcast, and that’s too bad, but he fought the system and did a lot for all players.”
It’s a running joke in Cooperstown for the Hall of Fame veterans to tell the Hall of Fame rookies to give short speeches, and Mays hasn’t forgotten.
“Hurry up,” he said at one point Wednesday, as if he were in Cooperstown. “We’re getting tired.”