If there were ever a Mount Rushmore of the most revered American athletes of all time, Willie Mays would certainly be in the discussion: right up there with - take your pick - the likes of Muhammad Ali, Michael Jordan, Carl Lewis, Jim Thorpe, Serena Williams, Tiger Woods, Tom Brady and a small handful of others.
Like his fellow legends of their sport, everything Mr. Mays ever did looked so effortless, so smoothe. Even the occasional outs or errors he made looked pretty cool. The way he ran the bases.
He was lionized by tens of millions. I love the penultimate scene in the movie "Manhattan". The director and star of the film, Woody Allen, is listing all of his favorite things in life. To the question, "Why is life worth living", Mr. Allen goes:
""Well, all right, why is life worth living? That's a very good question. Well, there are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. Uh, like what? Okay. Um, for me... oh, I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... and Willie Mays, and... the second movement of the Jupiter Symphony, and... Louie Armstrong's recording of 'Potatohead Blues'... Swedish movies, naturally... 'Sentimental Education' by Flaubert... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... those incredible apples and pears by Cezanne... the crabs at Sam Wo's... Tracy's face...""
I never saw Willie Mays play the game of baseball live - too young - but that line always stick with me about him. He transcends sports. He wasn't a mere baseball player; he was an artist - like Mozart, Steinbeck, Presley or da Vinci. The best there ever was at his craft. And there will never be another quite like him.
Ironically, Mr. Mays was "only" a career .301 hitter. This means he failed to get a hit effectively 70% of his plate appearances.
As we all go about our day, our career and our lives; we make all kinds of mistakes. We fail. Willie failed a lot, too. This may not give you much comfort; but it gives me plenty. God rest his soul. What a player. Willie Mays.
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