To the editor: April 17, 1968 was a day at Shea Stadium in New York that I will never forget. All you had to do was watch Willie Mays play to know that he had a special talent, the best of his time. (“Willie Mays, known for 'The Catch' and by many as baseball's best of the best, dies at 93,” June 18)
On that active day, two friends and I were at the stadium after the Mets' game against Mays' San Francisco Giants. I don't even remember who won, but what I definitely remember is seeing Mays walking out the press gate with a group of kids following him as he headed to his pink Lincoln Continental, signing autographs along the way.
Fortunately, traffic leaving the parking lot prevented Mays' car from leaving quickly. I waited patiently and he continued waving at his window for the group of us who had followed him by his car. For me that signature was gold.
When I went back to my friends and told them I had gotten Mays' autograph, they immediately left in search of the pink Continental.
Mays still had an effect on me into adulthood. When Reggie Jackson dedicated a plaque to her at Yankee Stadium in 2002, he requested and received Mays as one of his personal guests for the event.
Working at the stadium, I had a souvenir stand upstairs that day, but I didn't know Mays would be attending. When I heard Mays' name over the loudspeaker, I ran straight to the stands to see the great one again. I left my keepsakes completely unattended, with thousands of dollars worth of stock vulnerable to theft. Just the mention of his name over the speaker made me react like a child again.
Stewart Zully, Los Angeles
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To the editor: A few years ago, I was traveling to San Francisco from Palm Springs International Airport. While I was waiting to board, a woman pushing a wheelchair parked next to my seat. Willie Mays was in a wheelchair.
I sat quietly, respecting his privacy as one man after another came forward to acknowledge the famous baseball player. He simply nodded in thanks, until a boy of about 10 years old approached him.
Surprisingly, the two chatted for several minutes, exchanging baseball and minor league stories.
Finally, Mays asked the boy if he wanted an autograph. The boy smiled and said it would be “the best thing he ever did, Mr. Mays.” Everyone watching gasped.
No other person approached Mays during our wait to board the plane. It was an honor and a pleasure to sit next to him in silence and watch every minute of interaction that day.
Thank you, Mr. Mays.
Lin Conrad, Indian
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To the editor: I saw Mays play on numerous occasions, including the “tragic” (for the Dodgers) year of 1962. His enthusiasm, love of the game and skills were, at his best, second to none.
He hated the Giants, but not Mays. When he beat us, I just sighed and shook my head knowing this was greatness on the field.
Always a classy act, it was an honor to see him even though he was playing for our rival. There will never be another like him.
Scott Sewell, Marina del Rey
