Watching Willie Mays during the stirring pregame ceremony at the All-Star Game last week brought back a great memory.
No, not his famous over-the-shoulder catch in the 1954 World Series at the Polo Grounds.
Or the aura that surrounded “The Say Hey Kid.”
Or even the day I got his autograph when I was six years old.
The Willie Mays I saw at the All-Star Game, ignoring Rangers star Josh Hamilton during pregame introductions, reminded me of the cold shoulder he tried to give Everett 23 years ago and how Bob Bavasi got the best of him.
Bavasi and his wife Margaret owned the Everett Giants, the wildly popular minor league team that was in its second season in 1985. Part of the allure was that the big-league Giants often sent some of their greatest stars to Everett, having them meet with the young ballplayers and spread their goodwill to the fans.
Orlando Cepeda charmed them all, as did Willie McCovey and others. They made everyone feel like a part of the Giants family.
“Everyone was like a long lost relative when they came here and talked with the players,” Bob Bavasi said. “It was like you were separated at birth and they had just found you.”
The guy Bavasi really wanted was Mays.
Giants general manager Al Rosen had just hired Mays as a special assistant and Bavasi, knowing all the good vibes that came from bringing Cepeda and McCovey to Everett, did everything he could to get Mays.
He had no idea what he was in for.
Bavasi made a one-day trip to the Giants’ spring training camp in Scottsdale, Ariz., in 1985 just to show the Giants how badly he wanted Mays to appear in Everett.
“No problem,” Rosen told Bavasi, who returned to Everett that day and began planning for Mays’ appearance.
He put together a breakfast gathering with Mays, time with the media, community leaders, team staff, coaches, players and, of course, a pregame autograph session for the fans.
Then Bavasi got a phone call from Bob Fontaine, who was the Giants’ vice president.
“Hey rook,” Fontaine called Bavasi. “I understand you’ve got Willie Mays coming up.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be great,” Bavasi told him. “I’ve got a breakfast put together, a luncheon …”
Before Bavasi could finish his list of activities, Fontaine interrupted him.
“You might want to think twice about that,” said Fontaine, who then told Bavasi a harrowing tale of Mays’ recent trip to Fresno, where the Giants’ Class AAA team had put together a similar schedule.
Mays was supposed to speak at a luncheon, but when a Fresno team official went to the hotel to pick him up, Willie had one foot out the door with his golf clubs over his shoulder.
He convinced Mays to ditch the clubs and appear at the luncheon, where he entertained the crowd.
That evening, Mays was supposed to sign autographs for fans and throw out the first pitch before the game. Instead, nobody could find him. He’d been at the ballpark earlier, but when team officials looked into the parking lot, Mays’ car was gone.
“I was crestfallen when I heard that,” Bavasi said. “I cancelled all of my plans.”
Bavasi still assumed Mays would show up as scheduled, but he decided to play it low-key. He’d introduce Mays to some people around town and have a reporter or two spend time with him. No luncheons, no autograph sessions.
About 10 a.m. on the day Mays was supposed to appear, Bavasi got a call from the Giants’ public relations director, who asked if Willie was there.
Not yet, Bavasi told him.
“He called me back a half hour later and said, ‘I just found Willie, and he’s nowhere near Everett, Wash.’ I was really ticked,” Bavasi said.
About three hours later, Rosen called. Bavasi could tell he was on a speakerphone.
“I want to apologize,” Rosen told Bavasi. “When would you like Willie to be there?”
“Honestly Al, after this, I can’t count on that,” Bavasi told him.
“No,” Rosen said. “When do you want him?”
Bavasi looked at his calendar and gave Rosen a date.
Then Bavasi heard Rosen turn away from his phone and scream, “Willie, can you bleeping be there that day?”
Bavasi could hear Mays humming and hawing before Rosen said sternly, “He’ll be there.”
Mays did show up in Everett as scheduled, and Bavasi was prepared for anything. He even had a worker stationed in the parking lot near Mays’ car.
“Once he got there, he wasn’t leaving,” Bavasi said.
Mays was supposed to meet with the Giants’ coaches, then the players, then sign autographs for 30 minutes before the 7 o’clock game.
“He hangs out in the coaches’ office and he doesn’t leave,” Bavasi said. “I couldn’t believe it. We’ve got a line from here ‘til Tuesday of people wanting his autograph and he’s not leaving the coaches’ office.”
Bavasi grabbed Mays by the elbow and led him to the autograph table, with maybe 15 minutes remaining before gametime.
“I’m only signing until the game starts,” Mays told Bavasi.
“Come on Willie, you said a half hour,” Bavasi told him.
“Nope, I’m done when the game starts,” Mays said again.
“OK Willie, that’s fine,” Bavasi told him. “When you hear the National Anthem, you’ll know.”
Then Bavasi pulled off one of the great moves of his ownership career.
He told the P.A. announcer not to play the National Anthem until he gave a signal. He asked the umpires, Everett Giants manager Joe Strain and Bellingham Mariners manager Gary Pellant if he could delay the start by 15 or 20 minutes. They all agreed.
“Everybody was in on it,” Bavasi said.
Well, everybody except Mays, who was signing autographs without showing a great deal of enthusiasm.
“He just kept his head down,” Bavasi said. “It was a perfect way for him not to have any interaction.”
When the last few autograph seekers approached the table, Bavasi gave the signal to play the National Anthem. Mays heard it, stood and looked at his watch for the first time.
Then he looked up with a frown on his face to see Bavasi standing nearby.
“I wanted to flip him off,” Bavasi said. “I just smiled at him.”
Read Kirby Arnold’s blog on the Mariners at www.heraldnet.com
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
