Remembering the "The Say Hey” Kid

“Phil Malat of Coon Rapids wrote this heart-felt tribute to Willie Mays on the occasion of Wondrous Willie's 80th birthday:”  ~  Patrick Reusse

Random Ruesse at 1500 ESPN KSTP Web Site

Published Friday, May 6th, 2011 - 5:48pm

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He was 10 and heard all the stories of a mythical center fielder who roamed Nicollet Park in Minneapolis. 

The boy knew of his long homers. He knew of his rocket arm, his blazing speed, his bushel basket catches, and had heard all the stories of his climbing the centerfield fence to snare fly balls destined for places outside the grasp of mere mortals. 

Yes, he knew that the town was heartbroken and angry when the major league team, the New York Giants, hijacked him away when he was hitting .476.

The 10-year-old was shown the letter printed in the Minneapolis newspaper, written by the owner of the major league team, apologizing to the fans for taking their hero away. The only time in major league history that was done.
By the time all this was made known to the lad, things had changed.

Nicollet Park was a distant memory. The Minneapolis Millers now played at Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington. The boy now could only know of the center fielder's prowess and exploits through the newspaper, sports magazines, Life Magazine, Look Magazine and anything else he could get his hands on to read. He could only yearn and dream about what it would be like to see him play. 

But there is a God, and he watches over baseball and young boys. 

One night at the dinner table, the boy's father announced that he would be taking his sons to Met Stadium to see an exhibition game between the Millers and the Giants. The boy would no longer have to dream and yearn. The reality was at hand and the excitement was indescribable. 

On arrival at the old Met, the fans learned the major league team had decided not to play most of their starting players. Speculation was they did not want to risk injury in a meaningless contest, or perhaps they didn't want to embarrass the Millers, the Triple-A farm club. 

So the center fielder sat on the bench. 

This would not be tolerated by the fans. No one cared about the score. The stands were filled with those who wanted to see him play again. 

Beginning somewhere around the end of the third inning the fans began chanting; "WILL-EEE, WILL-EEE, WILL-EEE" and did so before every Giant at bat.

By the sixth inning, the Millers led 3-1. It was time for the Giants to hit.

"WILL-EEE, WILL-EEE, WILLIEEE." 

Two Giant runners had reached base.

"WILL-EEE, WILL-EEE, WILL-EEE." 

He emerged from the dugout and took his place in the on-deck circle. The crowd went crazy.  

The hitter bunted the runners over to second and third. 

The boy was finally going to see this legend, his hero, at bat. It took three, maybe four pitches; before a long fly ball was hit so hard it not only cleared the left field fence but traveled over the white protective fence beyond the outfield fence and into the parking lot. 

The Giants led 4-3. No Millers' fan cared. 

That was my introduction to Willie Mays. 

I would see him play on a few more occasions. Mays never disappointed. Even if he went hitless in a game (something I never witnessed), you never felt cheated. The style and grace, the effortless manner with which he played the game, watching the bushel basket catches - these things were enough to make a game with Willie Mays memorable.
Why this remembrance now? 

The "Say Hey Kid" turned 80 today. That 10-year-old boy is now in his 60s and he cannot find suitable words to express his wish to Mr. Mays for a happy birthday. 

What he can offer is the wonderful sentence that the great Jim Murray once wrote in honor of Wondrous Willie: "The first thing to establish about Willie Mays is that there really is one." 

I can still hear the crowd at Met Stadium: "WILL-EEE, WILL-EEE...''