San Fransisco Chronicle
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Willie Mays stands in front of a photo of him as a young man in Harlem where he played stickball. The baseball legend spoke at a dedication ceremony of the Willie Mays Boys & Girls Club at Hunters Point.
For most of this week, Barry Bonds was the be-all, end-all, and everything-in-between of the 78th MLB All-Star Game. But for about 10 minutes Tuesday night, Bonds happily played a lesser role. He became a personal assistant, doting and solicitous, helping a 76-year-old man into a shiny 49-year-old Cadillac Eldorado convertible.
Willie Mays climbed in it and took a ride around the park, tossing baseballs to the crowd to finish the most important appearance of the evening.
It's moments like this -- not an innovation about determining home-field advantage for the World Series -- that keep the All-Star Game relevant. It's the past that keeps things fresh.
Mays' appearance didn't quite match the pomp of Ted Williams' return to Fenway Park for the 1999 All-Star Game, because Mays brushes whimsy over most occasions and, unlike Williams, he hasn't isolated himself in retirement.
Still, the Giants and MLB choreographed the event with ample symbolism and nostalgia, having Mays make his entrance in center field, turf he hadn't trod since the Giants opened the park in China Basin seven years ago. It didn't matter. Center field everywhere belongs to Willie Mays.
The ceremonial first pitch happened in shallow center field, with the current All-Stars trailing behind Mays like courtiers in a royal procession. Bonds and Derek Jeter walked by his side, and Jose Reyes, representing the Mets, Mays' last stop in baseball, got behind the temporary home plate to catch the pitch.
Willie Mays throws balls to the crowd as he rides in a 1958 Cadillac El Dorado around the field during pregame ceremonies in his honor.
Mays' impish side came out when Reyes set up for the catch. The septuagenarian motioned for the 24-year-old shortstop to move back a little, and then some more again. Mays finally let loose a throw that found Reyes' glove, not bad at all for a man who said before the tribute, "I hope I don't do anything to hurt my arm, because I just had an operation.''
He rubbed his right shoulder and rotated it a couple times, then immediately clarified: "It was just 'scoped,'' he said. "I don't want it to sound like I had a big surgery.''
Mays was settled in a chair in equipment manager Mike Murphy's office, where he turns up every now and then. His eyeglasses perched low on his forehead, hands clutching a newly autographed ball, Mays had about 15 minutes to show time. He said he didn't feel any jitters.
"You don't get nervous. You block them out,'' he said.
He'd already been through one big ceremony for the day, appearing at the dedication of the new Willie Mays Boys & Girls Club at Hunters Point in the morning. The Giants have pledged $2 million in donations to rebuild the clubhouse, near Mays' old haunt on Candlestick Point. The All-Star workouts and Home Run Derby helped raise funds for the renovation, another finer point of the Classic. It connected with the future as well as the past.
For the ceremony, a renowned picture of Mays playing stickball on the street in Harlem was blown up and used as a backdrop. "That was 1954,'' he said. The Giants, then in New York, won the World Series, and their center fielder routinely warmed up for his job by playing with the kids outside his home. "Day games, I'd play from about 10 to 11, and night games, I'd be out there about 3 to 4,'' he said.
Another copy of the photo was hanging on Murphy's wall, signed and dated by Mays. He has trouble keeping the image in his own home. "Because people always come to the house and ask, 'Can I have that picture?' " he said.
On the field Tuesday, he was handing out mementos at every turn. He signed the ceremonial ball for Reyes, a thrilling player, a constant joy to watch, very much like Mays. As he waited for the autograph, Reyes looked like a star-struck 9-year-old.
Then Mays took off his specially made All-Star jacket with "Say Hey'' on the back and gave it to Ken Griffey Jr. as a keepsake. Mays handed another jacket to Jeter. Jeter and Griffey had interviewed him for Fox Sports the day before, again connecting the present and the past, and Mays said he admired both of them. He felt a little bad that Griffey didn't get to escort him along with Jeter and Bonds.
"But I gave him my jacket, my coat to put in his house,'' Mays told the AP after the ceremony. "... We were fine. We're OK.''
The strip-down didn't appear to be rehearsed. In fact, as Mays sat in Murphy's office, he didn't know that he would be entering in center field.
"Tell you the truth, I'm out there, whatever comes up, that's what I'm going to do,'' he said.
The door to Murphy's office opened and Bonds peeked in, smiling. "I'm just making sure you're OK,'' he told his godfather. Then he gently reminded Mays that it was time to get ready.
On the field, Bonds said later, they didn't talk. He was at Mays' side to guide him, not to share the moment.
"It was Willie's stage, and ... obviously, everyone knows Willie's eyesight is not as good as it once was,'' Bonds said, "and we wanted to be there to make sure Willie got to the places he needed to get to.''
As they escorted him to the '58 Eldorado, Bonds protectively pulled the temporary home plate out of the way, then helped Mays into the seat, a hand on the older man's back. The car pulled away, and Mays started his circuit. The fans stayed on their feet and cheered. Whatever outrageous sum they had paid to see an All-Star Game in San Francisco, they had just gotten their money's worth.
This article appeared on page D - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle
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