About 20 years ago, I was heading home to California from NYC. I checked in at Kennedy Airport and headed for the American Airlines lounge. The lounge was almost empty and I settled into a seat on a sofa. Looking across the room, I saw Willie Mays sitting on another sofa.
He was just sitting there and I wanted to go talk with him, but I didn’t know if it was appropriate. So, I called Alice Lankester who is my chief advisor on everything important. She asked me to ‘describe the scene’.
Mr. Mays was sitting there and he was traveling with a woman who could have been his daughter, and a girl who could have been his granddaughter. The daughter was being somewhat impatient with him, and mostly looking after the girl. He had an SF Giants jacket draped over the next seat, with the logo prominently displayed.
Seeing the logo, I decided that he wanted to be recognised. Besides he was just sitting there, looking a bit lonely. I went over and introduced myself. I told him that I was a big fan and I remembered how he played his last games on my team, the New York Mets. With laughter, we remembered when his SAY HEY license plates were stolen from his Rolls Royce outside Shea Stadium.
Willie Mays was perfect gentlemen. We proceed to talk for about 30 minutes until our flight was called. Obviously we talked about baseball. We agree that the Designated Hitter was a abomination. Maybe that’s why he retired in 1973? The conversation was one of the best and most memorable moments ever for me.
From the New York Times today: when he was selected for the Hall of Fame, Mays was asked to name the best ballplayer he had ever seen.
“I think I was the best ballplayer I’ve ever seen,” he replied. “I feel nobody in the world could do what I could do on a baseball field.”
Not many people can things like that and not be accused of hubris and conceit. Willie Mays was one of those few. RIP Willie Mays.