R.I.P. Willie Mays

June 18, 2024

Whenever people argue about who was the Greatest Of All Time (or the GOAT, as the modern terminology would have it) there typically aren’t too many names given out before Willie Mays enters the discussion. And there’s a very good reason for that.

Willie Mays was one of the few surviving players from the Negro League’s period from 1920 to 1948, which was recently combined into baseball’s official records. This move thrust Josh Gibson and others into the game’s all time leaders in several statistical categories, and even added a few hits from Mays’ rookie season into his already staggering lifetime production.

Much will be said and written about Mays in the days to come, and all of it is justified. The heyday of Mays’ career coincides with the period where baseball reigned supreme among all professional sports in this country. In an age where baseball has fallen behind football (and is essentially tied with basketball) in how much attention it receives, it’s worth remembering that things weren’t always this way.

Which is what makes this—what I consider to be the final baseball card of Willie Mays’ playing career—so significant. Mays’ name does not appear on the front of the card, and it is buried in a very small font inside a box score on the back, so its significance needs to be sussed out a little bit. And, believe it or not, there’s a bit of a twist to this card that I imagine has never been brought up before. But we’ll get to that in time.

Since Willie Mays retired from the game after the 1973 World Series was over, there is no card for him in the 1974 Topps set, other than this one. It was the first time in Topps’ history that Willie Mays was not presented on a baseball card, and perhaps this was their way of saying goodbye to him as a player.

The box score on the back of the card reveals that Willie Mays was 1-for-2 in the game and he scored a run. The line score at the bottom reveals that the Mets won the game 10-7 in 12 innings. And since it was Game 2 of the Series, it wasn’t decisive in any way. But a road win in the World Series is always big, and that’s what this was for the Mets that year. It didn’t lift them to a World Series title, which would have been a great way for Willie Mays to leave the game he had given so much to over the years, but not too many players in their 40s have ever played in a World Series, either.

The Mets seemed to have the game in hand going into the bottom of the ninth, but Willie Mays went into center field as a defensive replacement, and things got interesting. He misplayed a fly ball, and the A’s capitalized with a two-run rally to send the game into extra innings. The late afternoon sun gave Mays fits again later in the game, and it’s worth noting that every World Series game since 1988 has been played under the lights.

The game really got interesting in the 10th inning. With Bud Harrelson on third base and one out, Felix Millan lifted a fly ball to shallow left field. Mays was in the on-deck circle, and he had an even better view of what happened next than the home plate umpire did. Harrelson appeared to evade the tag and touch home plate, but the umpire called him out. Mays fell to the ground, pleading with the umpire that he got the call wrong. But this was many years before baseball allowed for review of on-field calls. It was a different time back then.

The game was won in the 12th inning, when Willie Mays bounced a single up the middle and hobbled down to first base. The old warrior still had one final heroic act left. He then misplayed another fly ball in the bottom of the 12th, but the A’s weren’t able to erase their big deficit and the Mets returned to New York with the series tied at one game apiece.

It’s perhaps worth noting that Willie Mays never again took the field defensively. He pinch hit in the bottom of the 10th inning in Game three, with the winning run on base and the chance to end the game in dramatic fashion. Instead, he hit into a fielder’s choice to end the inning and, while it wasn’t yet known at the time, bring his incredible playing career to a close.

So what’s the twist that I mentioned earlier in this piece? Well, it seems apparent that the card uses an image to depict Game 2 of the Series, but it actually took place in Game 1. An explanation is clearly in order, so here goes:

Willie Mays actually got the start in Game 1, as the broadcasters pointed out, because Rusty Staub, the Mets’ starting right fielder at the time, was injured and could not play in Game 1. The card clearly depicts Mays batting in bright sunshine, and apparently checking his swing. My suspicion is that it happened in his first at-bat in the game, on either the third or fourth pitch he saw that day. But there’s no question from the card that Mays was in bright sunshine at the time.

For Game 2, which the card above was purporting to show, Rusty Staub did start, and played into the 9th inning. He was batting in the late afternoon shadows, and when he singled into center field, Mays went in to pinch run for him. Mays’ two at-bats during the game—when he popped up to lead off the eleventh inning, and drove in the run in the twelvth—both happened as he was standing in the shade, as well. So the bright sunshine that Mays was batting in happened during Game 1, but Topps chose to present the image as being representative of Game 2, instead.

Many of Willie Mays’ baseball cards, especially from the 1950s, are quite valuable. And yet, even though I was still a couple of years away from getting into baseball back in 1974, this beat up old card of a well-past-his-prime Willie Mays is among the most interesting ones that I have.

Godspeed, Willie Mays, and say hello to my Uncle Mike. He was a big fan of yours.