Youth Basketball Coaching Special: Save time, reduce stress and get the most from your team. 30 complete practice plans for the season, an award certificate maker, coaching forms, and more! Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

As he indicates on his website,

“For Every Hit I Hit, For Every Homerun I Hit, And For Every Strike Out I Pitch, I Will Raise Money For The Kids At Children’s Hospital Of Pittsburgh!”

Last year, he raised over $5,000.  As of May 28, 2011, his total this season is a little over $500.  With 6 home runs, 11 hits, and 40 strike outs pitched; it doesn’t appear as if Elliot is any slump.  But, he could use a few more sponsors.  Go to www.elliotmast.blogspot.com and help Elliot make a difference.

Sports Feel Good Stories caught up with Elliot to ask him about his program — as not every 12-year-old has raised $5,000 for other kids.

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

In addition to coaching baseball, John has also been a coach for his 4 children’s softball, football, basketball, track & soccer teams. During the past 20 years he has coached more than 50 youth teams.  Sports Feel Good Stories caught up with John to discuss his new book:  The Well-Prepared Coach:  25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans.  The book can be purchased at www.coachingwhiz.com

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John Blissenbach Interview

Sports Feel Good Stories:  On the cover of your new book, The Well-Prepared Coach — 25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans, you write that it is perfect for 4^th – 8^th grade baseball teams. What type of person that will benefit the most from this book?

Author John Blissenbach

John Blissenbach: As I was writing the book, I was thinking of the reader as a volunteer coach that played baseball or has been a fan of the game, may have some experience coaching but little to no experience with this age group, has a child on the team, and has little free time due to having a full-time job outside of coaching. Most importantly, I envisioned a coach that is dedicated to providing a positive, structured learning experience for each of the players on the team.

Sports Feel Good Stories: What type of coaching philosophy have you attempted to incorporate into the book?

John Blissenbach: I believe baseball practices should include the 4 Fs; they should be fun, fast-moving, loaded with instruction on the fundamentals & use the entire field whenever possible. In order to accomplish these things, I suggest practices include stations so that multiple things can go on at the same time, position-specific as well as team-wide skill development, and contests where players can compete with each other on a wide variety of batting & fielding skills.

Sports Feel Good Stories: Is there any one coach or group of coaches that influenced your philosophy & understanding of the game?

John Blissenbach: I have learned something from nearly every baseball coach or instructor that I have encountered since I first began coaching in 1979. The list includes coaches at every level of the game from kindergarten coaches to professionals. I have attended clinics put on by youth baseball associations, high school & college coaches, as well as major league players & coaches. I have also learned a great deal from simply watching the practices of other coaches. All of these learning opportunities coupled with my own on-field coaching experiences influenced my philosophy and ultimately the contents of the book.

Sports Feel Good Stories: What are some of the biggest challenges facing a volunteer baseball coach?

John Blissenbach: In my opinion, the two biggest challenges are time & experience. Volunteers typically lead busy personal lives and have little time to think about, much less prepare a detailed practice plan. Plus the time for practice is limited. Fourth through eighth grade are important years in the development of a player. There is a lot to cover during a season & there never seems to be enough time to cover everything. Also, if a coach played baseball, they most likely have played only a few of the positions. However, as a coach you are responsible for the instruction & development for all nine positions on the field.

Sports Feel Good Stories: What have you enjoyed most about coaching kids in the fourth through eighth grade age group?

John Blissenbach: Coaching this age group can be the most challenging as well as the most fulfilling of any age group. Kids in this group are diverse in their size, skills and their understanding of the game. During this period they can experience tremendous physical growth; by eighth grade some reach their adult height. From a baseball perspective, players develop faster in this age group than any other. They are able to learn & execute all aspects of the game. What they learn during this period will serve as the foundation that future coaches will build upon.

Sports Feel Good Stories: By writing the book, what do you hope to accomplish?

John Blissenbach: I am primarily hoping this book helps coaches provide their players with a positive experience playing baseball. I also hope coaches find it to be a huge time-saver. I know volunteer coaches contribute endless hours and have little free time as a result. I hope the book makes their job a whole lot easier.

Sports Feel Good Stories: Are there any other final words you would like to pass on to volunteer coaches?

John Blissenbach: The one word I would like to pass on is respect. Volunteer coaches are role models for kids. By showing respect for the game, the players, the opponents, the umpires & the fans you will have a huge influence on the kids on your team. One way for you to show respect for the game is to show up at every practice with a plan. Regardless of whether you create your own plan or use the plans in The Well-Prepared Coach — 25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans, your players will be better prepared because of your efforts.

—————

See a sample practice plan from John Blissenbach’s The Well-Prepared Coach:  25 Youth Baseball Plans at www.coachingwhiz.com

A walk off home run is a homer that ends the game. Because of baseball’s rules, the home team bats last, so the hit must come from a home team player. The walk off home run happens in the final inning, usually the 9th inning, but sometimes in extra innings.

The original derivation of the term “walk off” referred to the pitcher having to walk off the mound after losing the game. It’s common meaning nowadays is more associated with the celebration on the field of the hitter and his teammates, while the home crowd cheers.

The most exciting play in baseball? Perhaps. How about a walk off, grand slam home run? As of 2010, it has happened 24 times in Major League Baseball. It’s referred to as the “ultimate grand slam.”

Bobby Thompson and “The Shot Heard ‘Round the World”

Twins Jim Thome’s walk off homer against the White Sox

Front page Photo credit:  Information |Description=Scott Hairston rounding the bases after hitting a 3-run walk-off home run for the Padres in 2007. [http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/boxscore?gameId=270919125) via Wikimedia Commons

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

The Catch

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

The 27th batter Galarraga faced was Cleveland Indians Jason Donald.  Donald hit a grounder between first and second that was fielded by Detroit’s first baseman who threw to Galarraga, who had moved from the mound to cover first.  Although close, it was apparent that Donald had not beaten the throw.  However, first base umpire Jim Joyce saw it differently and called the runner safe.  TV replays showed that the runner was  indeed out.  Joyce had made an error, and it was a big error as a perfect game was on the line.

After Galarraga retired the next batter ending the game, Joyce immediately went to check the video.  He realized immediately that he had made the wrong call.  He quickly admitted his mistake and personally apologize to Galarraga who he had deprived of the perfect game.

Joyce’s honesty mixed well with Galarraga’s grace.  Galarraga didn’t protest on the field, but simply smiled.  After Joyce apologized, Galarraga told reporters,

“He really feel bad. He probably feel more bad than me. Nobody’s perfect, everybody’s human. I understand. I give a lot of credit to the guy saying, “Hey, I need to talk to you because I really say I’m sorry.” That don’t happen. You don’t see an umpire after the game say ‘I’m sorry.’”

Joyce was scheduled to call the following day’s game in Detroit, but given the circumstances was told he could take the day off.  Joyce chose to face what could be a hostile crowd and call the next game.  Joyce, expecting boos, heard applause.

It seemed that the good sportsmanship was contagious as Detroit fans cheered the umpire.

###

My nominations for the biggest story lines by sport this year:

NFL:  Saints win Super Bowl

NCAA Basketball:  Butler’s Cinderella run to Championship Game

NBA:  LeBron’s Decision

MLB:  Sportsmanship displayed after Joyce’s missed call

The Play

Sports Illustrated — A Different Kind Of Perfect — Tom Verducci (with special reporting by Melissa Segura)

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

Often encouraged to play softball, especially by opposing team’s parents, Chelsea’s first love is baseball.  Her teams have won multiple city championships over the past couple of years along with two District Championships.  Chelsea hopes to one day play professional baseball.

ENJOY THIS ESPN VIDEO

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

The bat and ball’s construction seem to make it a perfect fit in backyard fields for several reasons.  It takes a well-hit ball to make it out of your yard, house windows are less likely to break, there are fewer injuries than with traditional baseball, and its hard for bigger players to overpower smaller players with power.

Wiffle Ball was invented in 1953 in Fairfield, Connecticut.  When 12-year-old David A. Mullany and a friend were playing baseball with a plastic golf ball and a broom handle, his dad, David N. Mullany, had an idea after watching his son try to throw a curve ball with the plastic golf ball.  Reasoning that everyone would like to throw a curve ball that really curved, he had the idea to make a plastic ball that would easily curve.  Using plastic ball from a friend’s factory, he started making prototypes of balls with unequal weight on their sides.  He cut out holes on one side of the balls, and learned that in addition to the number of holes, the shape of the holes was important as well.  The ball that curved the best had 8 oval shaped holes on the top half and the bottom was solid.

A former college and semi-pro pitcher, Mullany sat down to write rules for his new game.  He needed a name for the game.  When he asked his son what they call the game they played in the backyard, his son replied, “Wiffle.  When you miss it, it’s a wiff.”  So, “Wiffle Ball” it was.

Taking a second mortgage on his house, Mullany went about marketing the new game.  It quickly caught on.  In the 1960s, it was hard to find a house that didn’t own a Wiffle Ball and bat.  Wiffle Ball’s popularity is apparently here to stay.  Today, there are Wiffle Ball leagues, tournaments and national championships.

The Mullany’s, 3rd generation owners, still run the company.  Stephen A. Mullany, a V.P. with the company and grandson of the founder, notes, “You get people who played as kids, and then play with their kids, and then will play with their grandchildren.  You can play right across the board.  You don’t have to be Nolan Ryan.”

Wiffle Ball is available at Sports Authority, Kmart, Toys R Us and at mom-and-pop sporting goods and toy retailers across the country.  You can read more about the product at their website:  www.wiffle.com.

One Wiffle Ball pitcher you don’t want to face

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

Abbot & Costello’s “Who’s on First?” routine from the 1945 movie “The Naughty Nineties

There are many versions of “Who’s on First,” as the comedians sometimes shortened the act to fill various time requests.  Here’s the written transcript to one performance.

——————–

Abbott: Well, Costello, I’m going to New York with you. Bucky Harris the Yankee’s manager gave me a job as coach for as long as you’re on the team.

Costello: Look Abbott, if you’re the coach, you must know all the players.

Abbott: I certainly do.

Costello: Well you know I’ve never met the guys. So you’ll have to tell me their names, and then I’ll know who’s playing on the team.

Abbott: Oh, I’ll tell you their names, but you know it seems to me they give these ball players now-a-days very peculiar names.

Costello: You mean funny names?

Abbott: Strange names, pet names…like Dizzy Dean…

Costello: His brother Daffy

Abbott: Daffy Dean…

Costello: And their French cousin.

Abbott: French?

Costello: Goofe’

Abbott: Goofe’ Dean. Well, let’s see, we have on the bags, Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third…

Costello: That’s what I want to find out.

Abbott: I say Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know’s on third.

Costello: Are you the manager?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: You gonna be the coach too?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: And you don’t know the fellows’ names.

Abbott: Well I should.

Costello: Well then who’s on first?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: I mean the fellow’s name.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The guy on first.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The first baseman.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The guy playing…

Abbott: Who is on first!

Costello: I’m asking you who’s on first.

Abbott: That’s the man’s name.

Costello: That’s who’s name?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: Well go ahead and tell me.

Abbott: That’s it.

Costello: That’s who?

Abbott: Yes. PAUSE

Costello: Look, you gotta first baseman?

Abbott: Certainly.

Costello: Who’s playing first?

Abbott: That’s right.

Costello: When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?

Abbott: Every dollar of it.

Costello: All I’m trying to find out is the fellow’s name on first base.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The guy that gets…

Abbott: That’s it.

Costello: Who gets the money…

Abbott: He does, every dollar of it. Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it.

Costello: Who’s wife?

Abbott: Yes. PAUSE

Abbott: What’s wrong with that?

Costello: I wanna know is when you sign up the first baseman, how does he sign his name?

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The guy.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: How does he sign…

Abbott: That’s how he signs it.

Costello: Who?

Abbott: Yes. PAUSE

Costello: All I’m trying to find out is what’s the guys name on first base.

Abbott: No. What is on second base.

Costello: I’m not asking you who’s on second.

Abbott: Who’s on first.

Costello: One base at a time!

Abbott: Well, don’t change the players around.

Costello: I’m not changing nobody!

Abbott: Take it easy, buddy.

Costello: I’m only asking you, who’s the guy on first base?

Abbott: That’s right.

Costello: OK.

Abbott: Alright. PAUSE

Costello: What’s the guy’s name on first base?

Abbott: No. What is on second.

Costello: I’m not asking you who’s on second.

Abbott: Who’s on first.

Costello: I don’t know.

Abbott: He’s on third, we’re not talking about him.

Costello: Now how did I get on third base?

Abbott: Why you mentioned his name.

Costello: If I mentioned the third baseman’s name, who did I say is playing third?

Abbott: No. Who’s playing first.

Costello: What’s on base?

Abbott: What’s on second.

Costello: I don’t know.

Abbott: He’s on third.

Costello: There I go, back on third again! PAUSE

Costello: Would you just stay on third base and don’t go off it.

Abbott: Alright, what do you want to know?

Costello: Now who’s playing third base?

Abbott: Why do you insist on putting Who on third base?

Costello: What am I putting on third.

Abbott: No. What is on second.

Costello: You don’t want who on second?

Abbott: Who is on first.

Costello: I don’t know. Together: Third base! PAUSE

Costello: Look, you gotta outfield?

Abbott: Sure.

Costello: The left fielder’s name?

Abbott: Why.

Costello: I just thought I’d ask you.

Abbott: Well, I just thought I’d tell ya.

Costello: Then tell me who’s playing left field.

Abbott: Who’s playing first.

Costello: I’m not…stay out of the infield!!! I want to know what’s the guy’s name in left field?

Abbott: No, What is on second.

Costello: I’m not asking you who’s on second.

Abbott: Who’s on first!

Costello: I don’t know. Together: Third base! PAUSE

Costello: The left fielder’s name?

Abbott: Why.

Costello: Because!

Abbott: Oh, he’s center field. PAUSE

Costello: Look, You gotta pitcher on this team?

Abbott: Sure.

Costello: The pitcher’s name?

Abbott: Tomorrow.

Costello: You don’t want to tell me today?

Abbott: I’m telling you now.

Costello: Then go ahead.

Abbott: Tomorrow!

Costello: What time?

Abbott: What time what?

Costello: What time tomorrow are you gonna tell me who’s pitching?

Abbott: Now listen. Who is not pitching.

Costello: I’ll break you’re arm if you say who’s on first!!! I want to know what’s the pitcher’s name?

Abbott: What’s on second.

Costello: I don’t know. Together: Third base! PAUSE

Costello: Gotta a catcher?

Abbott: Certainly.

Costello: The catcher’s name?

Abbott: Today.

Costello: Today, and tomorrow’s pitching.

Abbott: Now you’ve got it.

Costello: All we got is a couple of days on the team. PAUSE

Costello: You know I’m a catcher too.

Abbott: So they tell me.

Costello: I get behind the plate to do some fancy catching, Tomorrow’s pitching on my team and a heavy hitter gets up. Now the heavy hitter bunts the ball. When he bunts the ball, me, being a good catcher, I’m gonna throw the guy out at first. So I pick up the ball and throw it to who?

Abbott: Now that’s the first thing you’ve said right.

Costello: I don’t even know what I’m talking about! PAUSE

Abbott: That’s all you have to do.

Costello: Is to throw the ball to first base.

Abbott: Yes!

Costello: Now who’s got it?

Abbott: Naturally. PAUSE

Costello: Look, if I throw the ball to first base, somebody’s gotta get it. Now who has it?

Abbott: Naturally.

Costello: Who?

Abbott: Naturally.

Costello: Naturally?

Abbott: Naturally.

Costello: So I pick up the ball and I throw it to Naturally.

Abbott: No you don’t you throw the ball to Who.

Costello: Naturally.

Abbott: That’s different.

Costello: That’s what I said.

Abbott: you’re not saying it…

Costello: I throw the ball to Naturally.

Abbott: You throw it to Who.

Costello: Naturally.

Abbott: That’s it.

Costello: That’s what I said!

Abbott: You ask me.

Costello: I throw the ball to who?

Abbott: Naturally.

Costello: Now you ask me.

Abbott: You throw the ball to Who?

Costello: Naturally.

Abbott: That’s it.

Costello: Same as you! Same as YOU!!! I throw the ball to who. Whoever it is drops the ball and the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to What. What throws it to I Don’t Know. I Don’t Know throws it back to Tomorrow, Triple play. Another guy gets up and hits a long fly ball to Because. Why? I don’t know! He’s on third and I don’t give a darn!

Abbott: What?

Costello: I said I don’t give a darn!

Abbott: Oh, that’s our shortstop.

Costello: (makes screaming sound)

###

25 Youth Baseball Practice Plans — Be ready for every practice in 5 minutes and get the most from your team! With complete plans for each practice, you’ll be ready to go, and can relax and enjoy the season. Go to www.coachingwhiz.com

—————————————

Prologue

On May 24, 1951, a young center fielder who had dazzled crowds in
the minor leagues left Sioux City, Iowa, traveling light: a change
of clothes and some toiletries, his glove, his spikes, and his two favorite
thirty-four-ounce Adirondack bats. The twenty-year-old Alabaman was
driven to the airport in Omaha, Nebraska, where he bought a ticket from
United Airlines for an all-night journey, landing in New York early the following
day. He had been there once before, three years earlier, to play in
the Polo Grounds with the Birmingham Black Barons. On that team the
veterans had protected him, instructing the youngster on how to dress,
act, and play ball; on how to represent his team, his city, and his race. But
now, on a sunny morning at La Guardia Airport, Willie Mays slid into the
back seat of a taxi and pressed his face against the window, alone. He had
never seen so many people walk so fast in his life.

Mays was driven to the midtown offices of his employer, the New York
Giants, and promptly escorted inside. At 5-foot-11 and 160 pounds, he
did not yet have the sculpted body that would later evoke comparisons
to Michelangelo’s finest work. He was taut and fluid, but not physically
imposing. Only his rippling forearms and massive hands, each one large
enough to grip four baseballs, hinted at his crushing strength.
Mays entered the office of Horace C. Stoneham, the Giants’ shy but personable
owner, who was rarely seen in the clubhouse or interviewed by
reporters. He had thinning hair, a ruddy complexion, and thick-framed
glasses, and while his counterpart at the Brooklyn Dodgers—Walter
O’Malley—had the aura of a corporate chieftain, Stoneham more closely
resembled a rumpled bank manager who preferred the intimacy of his
office to the bustle of the lobby. Alcohol was his most notorious vice, but
undue loyalty wasn’t far behind. He liked to hire family members and fellow
Irishmen and hated to trade or cut Giants who had lost their usefulness.

But give him his due: he cared deeply about his players, about their finances, their family, and their well-being, and he would help them as he would his own children. He also needed good players, and he never needed one more than he needed Willie Mays.

The Giants were a family business, and Stoneham was only thirty-twowhen he inherited the team after his father’s death in 1936. At the time, the Giants were the National League’s preeminent franchise, having won eleven pennants and four World Series since the turn of the century. They captured consecutive pennants in Horace’s first two years at the helm—clubs essentially assembled by his father—but the team grew stale, fan interest declined, and championships became a memory.

In 1951, after a dismal start, the Giants risked, not just a losing season, but irrelevance or even ruin. The franchise had lost money in each of the last three years and had been eclipsed by New York’s other baseball teams.  Their blood rival, the Brooklyn Dodgers, had won three pennants in the last decade, with Ebbets Field featuring social history as well as fierce competition.

Since 1947, the Dodgers had been led by Jackie Robinson, whose
breaking of the color barrier, combined with electrifying play, made for riveting
theater. Yankee Stadium, meanwhile, was its own showcase of dominance
and glamour: five World Series championships in the past decade,
one deity in center field. Joe DiMaggio would turn thirty-seven in 1951, his
final season, after which the landscape would be ready for a new hero. But
the Yankees had already found their next wunderkind in the zinc mines
of Oklahoma. The rookie Mickey Mantle—his brawn and speed exhaustively
chronicled in spring training, his alliterative name tripping off the
tongues of wide-eyed reporters, his blond crew cut and blue eyes capturing
the hearts of young fans—was poised to be Gotham’s next baseball god.

Who needed the Giants?

“Glad you could make it so soon,” Stoneham told Mays as the rookie
entered his office. “But they aren’t glad where you came from.”
Mays, confused, said nothing.

“The Minneapolis fans,” Stoneham said. “They’re upset.” Mays had
begun the season with the Minneapolis Millers, a Giants’ farm club. In
thirty-five games, he had hit .477; one searing drive, in Milwaukee, punctured
a hole in the fence. Stoneham told Mays that the Giants were putting
an ad in a Minneapolis newspaper to apologize for taking the local team’s
prodigy. “We’re going to tell them,” Stoneham said, “that you’re the answer
to what the Giants have got to have.”

Mays remained silent.

“It’s unusual, I know,” Stoneham said, “but—is something the matter?”
Mays finally found his voice, high-pitched and earnest: “Mr. Stoneham,
I know it’s unusual, but what if—”

“What if what?”

“What if I don’t make it?”

Stoneham pointed to a folder on his desk, stuffed with papers. Mays
saw his name on the cover.

“You think we just picked your name out of a hat?” Stoneham demanded.
“You think we brought you up because somebody saw your name in a
headline one day in Louisville or Columbus or Milwaukee or Kansas City?
You think nobody’s been watching you? You think managers haven’t been
up nights doing progress reports, that our own scouts haven’t checked you
out time and again? You think all of this is something somebody dreamed
up in the middle of the night two days ago?”

Mays stood there, unsettled by the barrage.

The owner pushed a buzzer beneath his desk and spoke into the intercom:
“Ask Frank to come in here.” He looked at Mays. “Got luggage?”
“No, sir. It’s still back in Minneapolis. They’re sending it on.”
Stoneham nodded and pushed the buzzer again. “Ask Brannick to save
out seventy, eighty dollars,” he said, referring to the team’s dapper traveling
secretary, Eddie Brannick. Then to Mays: “Buy yourself a couple
things—underwear, shirts, socks—until your stuff gets here.”
The door opened, and Frank Forbes, a black fight promoter hired by the
Giants to be Mays’s chaperone, walked through. “Here he is,” Stoneham
said. “Take him with you.” He extended his hand. “Good luck, Willie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stoneham. I hope I can get into a few games, get a few
chances to help. I hope you won’t be sorry.”

“I won’t be sorry.” Stoneham turned away, then suddenly turned back.
“Get in a few games? Get a few chances to help? Don’t you know you’re
starting tonight?”

Mays’s mouth went dry. “Starting? Where?”
Stoneham glared at him, then laughed. “Center field!” he barked.

“Where else?” He looked at Forbes. “Get him out of here, Frank.”

The Giants were already in Philadelphia, where they would begin a
three-game series that night at Shibe Park. Forbes and Mays hustled to
Pennsylvania Station, boarded a train, and sat in a Pullman parlor car.
Mays had seen the opulent coaches in the movies, the ubiquitous Negro
porter fawning over white passengers. But now Mays was the passenger,
and the swivel armchairs were layered with meaning. His father, Willie
Howard Mays, Sr., had been a Pullman porter, making beds in the sleeping
cars chugging out of Birmingham. The train’s quiet rhythm lulled the
white passengers to sleep, and the elder Mays, wearing a white jacket,
would listen to the sound of the whistle at night, signaling which engineer
was driving the train. “He’d lay his hand on that rope,” he said, “and it was
like an autograph.”

Now his son sat in a Pullman car, heading south on an eighty-five-mile
trip that the young man could not have envisioned even a month earlier,
with the clicking of the wheels saying to Willie: You’re a Giant. You’re a
Giant. You’re a Giant. You’re a Giant. . . .

Willie Mays began his major league career poorly—he went 1-for-26—
but he slowly found his way. He blasted home runs over the lights at the
Polo Grounds, chased down fly balls in the cavernous outfield, unleashed
deadly throws to the plate, and ran the bases with daring glee. But what
mesmerized his teammates, what captivated the crowds, was his incandescent
personality, bringing, his manager said, “a contagious happiness that
gets everybody on the club” and moving Branch Rickey to observe that
the rookie’s greatest attribute “was the frivolity in his bloodstream [that]
doubled his strength with laughter.”

Newspapers promptly hailed the “Negro slugger” as “the Amazing
Mays” and “the Wondrous Willie,” a unique blend of speed and power
who performed with childlike exuberance. But the most prescient account
appeared on June 24 in the New York Post—one month after his debut—
which chronicled a stunning baserunning feat as “part of the legend” of
this new marvel.

Long before his Rookie of the Year Award, long before his two Most
Valuable Player awards and his one batting title and his 12 Gold Gloves,
long before his 24 All-Star Games and his 3,283 hits and his 660 home
runs, and long before “the Catch,” Willie Mays was a legend. And by the
time he retired, he was an American icon whose athletic brilliance and stylistic
bravado contributed to the assimilation of blacks during the turbulent
civil rights era, a distinctive figure of ambition, sacrifice, and triumph
who became a lasting cultural touchstone for a nation in search of heroes.
Mays represented the quintessential American dream. He was the poor
Depression-era black kid from the segregated South who overcame insuperable
odds to reach the pinnacle of society, and he succeeded by hewing
to the country’s most cherished values—hard work, clean living, and perseverance.

He also benefited from great timing. Had he been born fifteen
or even ten years earlier, he would have played most if not all of his career
in the Negro Leagues, probably remembered, along with Josh Gibson,
Oscar Charleston, and Cool Papa Bell, as a mythic but ill-defined figure
who was victimized by America’s racial hypocrisy. Had he been born ten
years later, he would never have been part of perhaps the most celebrated
era in sports history—New York in the 1950s—when baseball dominated
the sports culture, integrated teams stole the march on civil rights, ballparks
sponsored miracles, and legends were born.

Mays was the youngest black player to reach the major leagues, and
his ascension in 1951 coincided with other powerful social and economic
forces. Television, for one, was emerging as a transformative medium in
sports. Fans across the country could now watch baseball in real time,
the grainy black-and-white images turning an anonymous player into a
national hero (Bobby Thomson, following his “Shot Heard ’Round the
World,” being the most conspicuous example). Several decades would pass
before baseball highlights became daily fare, but television still contributed
to Mays’s popularity by broadening access to his spellbinding performances:
the spinning catches followed by laser throws; the churning legs
rounding second base, his feet barely brushing the dirt, his cap sailing off
like a flimsy derby in a windstorm; the giddy smile that bespoke his love
for the game. Mays was a completely new archetype, the first five-tool
player before anyone else had even opened the shed.* But he always saw
himself as an entertainer first, and television gave him a national stage.

Mays was an unlikely celebrity, but he flourished in an increasingly
intense media culture. He appeared on television variety shows, talk
shows, sitcoms, and in documentaries—timid, to be sure, but also handsome,
respectful, and self-deprecating. Magazines splashed him on their
covers while recording artists celebrated him in song, screenwriters
immortalized him in films, and cartoonists grandly etched him in print.
He was the game’s first true international star, playing before huge crowds
from Mexico to Venezuela to Japan in winter league games or exhibitions.
He was a worthy antidote to Ralph Ellison’s lament that the Negro was the
“Invisible Man.”

Mays’s star power made him the most luminous prize in baseball’s great
migration westward in 1958, when the Giants and Dodgers moved to California.
This shift symbolized the broader demographic tilt of the country
and turned the national pastime into a transcontinental enterprise. Mays
benefited from baseball’s entrance into new markets and new stadiums
with new corporate sponsors, all of which helped make him the highest
paid player in the league, topping the magical $100,000 figure in 1963. He
left the game ten years later, just as the system that had restricted players
from the open market was about to collapse. A new era of baseball was
about to begin.

Mays’s career exquisitely overlapped one of the great social movements
in American history—the modern civil rights era. One of the most recognized
and admired black people of that period, Mays led by example, yet
his role in the movement became the most controversial part of his leg-

* A five-tool player can hit for average, hit for power, run, catch, and throw.

acy. In some quarters, he was scorned as a “do-nothing Negro” or an Uncle
Tom for refusing to actively support civil rights or even to speak out when
he himself was victimized or his hometown of Birmingham was terrorized.

But Mays countered racial discrimination on his own terms in ways
that he understood—as a role model who never drank or smoked, who
avoided scandal, and who gave his time and money to children’s causes;
as a player who excelled through discipline, preparation, and sacrifice;
and as a man who brought Americans together through the force of his
personality and his passion for the game. Mays knew his influence, particularly
on the bigots. “I changed the hatred to laughter,” he said. “That’s
what I think.”

Mays also had his disappointments. His first marriage ended badly, with
a painful public divorce and an adopted son with whom he is no longer
close. (His second marriage, however, to a beautiful, educated professional
has been a source of love and strength for more than thirty-five
years.) Financial troubles, caused mostly by overspending, dogged him
through his playing days. Bad financial advice cost him as well. He was
one of the most durable players in history, but the pressures took an enormous
toll, physically and emotionally, causing several hospitalizations
during his career. At times gruff and impatient, Mays was not the easiest to
approach, and his desire for privacy contributed to flare-ups with reporters,
some of whom attacked him in print. The give-and-take of friendships
was not his strength. His distrust of others, born of betrayals and affronts,
ran deep, and strangers with uncertain motives needed to tread lightly
when they entered his space.

Who is Willie Mays? It’s a fair question. He has a small circle of loyal
friends who love him unconditionally, but even they rarely see his wounds.
To his fans, he has long been an enigma who spoons out just enough biographical
morsels to nourish their curiosity but not satisfy their appetite.

The pity is that the most appealing parts of Willie Mays have nothing
to do with baseball.

But baseball is his rightful legacy, and now, almost sixty years after he
nervously asked Horace Stoneham if he was good enough, his accomplishments
loom larger than ever. Baseball has never been more popular,
but the steroid era—an endless train of congressional hearings, legal
maneuverings, and hollow pledges of reform—has tainted records, vindicated
cynics, and placed the biggest names under suspicion.

No one ever doubted Willie Mays. He not only played the game as well
as anyone who’s ever taken the field but he also played it the right way. He is now revered for capturing the joy and innocence of a bygone era, a transcendent
figure who is compared to the most important men in American
history. In the presidential campaign of 2008, Barack Obama emphasized
his biracial appeal by pairing John F. Kennedy with Martin Luther King,
Jr.; Abraham Lincoln with Willie Mays.

Heady company indeed, though maybe not a stretch for a man who
seemed to embody the impossible. “The first thing to establish about Willie
Mays,” Jim Murray once wrote, “is that there really is one.”

###

Excerpted from Willie Mays: The Life, The Legend by James S. Hirsch, Authorized by Willie Mays. Copyright © 2010 by James S. Hirsch. Excerpted with permission by Scribner, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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Willie Mays:  The Life, The Legend available at Amazon.com

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