Defining Moment of Greatness

Whenever his name is mentioned some will surely conjure up what is now routinely referred to in sports vernacular as “the catch.”  Others may remember the four homeruns he hit in a single game on April 30, 1961 at County Stadium in Milwaukee, or possibly, his sixteenth inning homerun at Candlestick Park on July 2, 1963 that finally subdued Warren Spahn and the Braves.  Yet others may recall his 52 homeruns, 7 of which were hit during a 14 game Giant winning streak in September of 1965, resulting in his second MVP award at the age of 34. 

We often fail to look beyond the magnitude of their marvelous athletic abilities and achievements.  In doing so, we divest ourselves of recognizing what truly makes them exceptional - for it is very often their character, even far more than their talent, that defines their greatness.  

The following was learned from my father.  It came to him via a boyhood chum who was a long-time employee of the Minnesota Twins.  For those of us who were made aware of this challenge, it will forever resonate way beyond “the catch” when the name Willie Mays is bandied about.

Mays began the 1951 season with the class AAA Minneapolis Millers of the American Association.  The Millers were a farm team for the New York Giants.  Willie was a huge favorite in the mill city. 

The Giants were managed by the pugnacious, ornery, quick tempered, curmudgeon, Leo “The Lip” Durocher.  When the lads did not perform to Leo’s liking, he would employ his customary course of action, which in Leo’s words were; “back up the truck…it’s time to clean house.” 

Such was the case in the spring of 1951.  The Giants got off to a miserable start while Willie was being Willie by demonstrating that he was the best of the best in Minneapolis. 

Leo called Tommy Heath, the manager of the Millers, and told him to send Willie to New York to join the Giants.  When Heath delivered what he thought would be the greatest news a twenty-year-old could ever receive, he was shocked by Mays’ response.  Willie begged Heath to call “Mr. Leo” back and tell Durocher he wouldn’t be coming.  Heath’s response to this request was to inquire if Mays was nuts.  He told Willie, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t about to deliver that kind of news to someone like Leo.  He told Willie he’d have to call Durocher.

Thus, put in play a life altering challenge that would lead to defining the young centerfielder’s true greatness.  Could a terrified kid summon the courage necessary to face these demons of destruction threatening his dream – could he overcome this awful angst?   The first demand would be to call “Mr. Leo.” 

In Mays cracking, high pitched voice he told Durocher he wasn’t coming.  The manager’s response was predictable.  Durocher growled, demanding to know why.  At that point Mays admitted he was scared and didn’t think he was ready for major league pitching.  Leo, in uncharacteristic fashion, then asked Mays what he was currently hitting.  Willie told him four-seventy-six (.476).  Durocher next asked the scared kid if he could hit two-fifty for him.  Willie thought he might be able to do that.  Leo then barked; so put your butt on a plane.

It was now time for the moment of truth – time to reveal the Mays’ gumption and true character.    Succumb to the fear of failure and the allure of the warm nest by buying a ticket to go home to Alabama or go east to New York?  It was at that moment Willie made the biggest play of this life - got his biggest hit and what proved to be his true defining moment of greatest. 

On May 25, 1951 Willie arrived in the Giants’ Clubhouse.  Had his remarkable resolve, at such a young age, not triumphed over the ominous threats of impending disaster we would have been deprived of the enormous pleasure of watching the greatest baseball player play the game – a contention that would never be disputed by anyone who ever spent an afternoon at the ballpark with the “Say Hey kid.”