WILLIE’S SHOW
Mays played the leading role at the 2007 All-Star Game in San Francisco
This story was originally published in 2007.
Willie Mays supplied the emotion in a pregame ceremony. Ichiro Suzuki supplied the speed on an inside-the-park home run. San Francisco and AT&T Park supplied the Bay Area scenery in the most postcard ready baseball All-Star Game ever.
Now, if Mays in his prime had been available to field the ball Suzuki hit off the rightfield wall ... well, then Tuesday night’s result might have been different. The National League might even have won.
As it was, after the American League’s 5-4 victory, Seattle outfielder Suzuki became the first Japanese player to win the game’s MVP award — and the first player of any ancestry to hit an All-Star home run that did not clear a wall or a fence.
Instead of doing that, Suzuki’s hit in the fifth inning smacked into one of those nutty nooks in the park’s masonry. The ball then skittered past a surprised Ken Griffey Jr. toward the right-field line. By the time Griffey tracked it down, Suzuki was motoring home.
Is it folly to believe that Mays, circa 1962, would have flown horizontally through the air to knock down the ball and then pegged out Suzuki cold? In some of our minds, that is exactly what he would have done — maybe even in 2007.
Hey, the frisky 76-year-old from Alabama showed promise when he tossed out the ceremonial first “throw” from his old centerfield position.
After a scoreboard video salute to his days with the Giants, Mays walked through
an outfield door and to a spot where he could deliver the ball. Mays jokingly asked New York Mets shortstop Jose Reyes to “back up” before launching a solid throw.
“I thought it was going to hurt,” Mays said later. “But it didn’t. I didn’t have time for pain. Probably going to hurt tomorrow. We’ll wait and see.”
Once a ballplayer, always a ballplayer.
The All-Star Game, though technically it matters because the winning league receives home-field advantage in the World Series, is often more of a performance than a competition. It lands in July as the equivalent of a summer movie, more a fluffy “Ocean’s 13” or “Fantastic Four” than a serious “The Departed” or “Letters From Iwo Jima.”
Tuesday, after a slow start, the game provided enough cinematic moments for a swell highlight reel. Barry Bonds, the object of much pregame focus, was cheered with gusto when he was introduced with the National League’s starting lineup. He doffed his cap and bowed to various corners of the park. But his two atbats produced only two flyouts. Bonds then left the game.
That’s when the wild stuff began, right down to the two hard foul balls that 67-year-old plate umpire Bruce Froemming took off his chest protector, drawing “ooohs” and winces from the announced crowd of 43,965. There were also four home runs, some sweet frozen-rope throws from the outfield and a ninth-inning rally by the National League that fell just short.
By then, the sentiment of the pregame ceremonies had dissipated. It mixed crass corporate sponsorship and genuine applause for the sport’s best players. The tribute to Mays, who made 24 All-Star Game appearances, was the capstone.
If the whole thing appeared a bit too orchestrated, that’s probably because much of the spontaneity was planned as carefully as a highway construction project. Before the game, large fourstep diagrams were posted in both locker rooms. The diagrams instructed players to form a human corridor from the outfield door beneath the scoreboard for Mays to parade through, to watch his throw and then help him climb into a 1958 Cadillac Eldorado for a lap around the infield.
The fourth instruction on the diagram read: “Celebrate Willie.”
Um, as if anyone had to be told?
Mays, clearly touched, took off his special AllStar jacket before he climbed into the Cadillac and gave the jacket to Griffey, telling the Cincinnati outfielder to keep it. Mays then handed a second jacket to Derek Jeter of the New York Yankees. Then the lap began, with Mays tossing more baseballs into the lower-box seats. Because he has difficulty seeing, he apparently didn’t notice when the car was nearing the screen behind home plate. Mays tossed three balls into the screen that fell to the dirt, prompting moans and some laughter.
Listen, there will be no making fun of Willie Mays around here, all right? He is a Bay Area legend. Bonds, who can have difficulty sounding sincere, is never more earnest than when he speaks about Mays.
“When he gave away his jackets … it was emotional for us,” Bonds said. “Just his showing appreciation to us as ballplayers … makes us really feel happy and proud. And the fans’ reception toward him was just great. When Willie was saying, ‘Back up, back up,’ ” he added, “it just makes you feel really good as a ballplayer.”
As a fan, too. All in all, not a bad show.
If only that Mays guy could still suit up.