Everyone else called it The Catch, because nobody could believe anyone couldve tracked that ball down. Willie Mays knew different. Hed made that catch plenty, on the sandlots of Alabama, in Birmingham of the Negro Leagues, in Minneapolis at Triple-A. Thats what Mays would tell you whenever you asked about The Catch. I call it The Throw, he told me one day, years ago, as he would tell anyone who brought it up. It was the throw that saved a run. It was the throw that Im not sure a lot of people could have made. In a baseball lifetime defined by the splendid and the spectacular, this was the moment that allowed the world to marvel at the unique talent Willie Mays brought to a baseball diamond, and allows it still. This is the way you can understand Willie Mays no matter if you were born in 1927 or 1967 or 2007. The Catch is forever. And of course, in Willies beautiful baseball mind, it was only the preliminary. This was late in the afternoon of Sept. 29, 1954, Game 1 of the World Series at the Polo Grounds, the wonderful old ramshackle yard tucked between Eighth Avenue, 159th Street and the Harlem River Drive. Coogans Bluff. It was the eighth inning of a 2-2 game, Cleveland had two runners on and one out against Don Liddle. Up stepped Vic Wertz, the Cleveland slugger who would collect four hits that day. And now he launched one high and deep toward the deepest part of center field. Mays turned and sprinted. His cap, which often flew off his head, remarkably stayed put; his number, 24, was visible for all to see. More From Mike Vaccaro Standing on second base, Larry Doby could hardly believe that Mays was going to run under the ball, but in case that happened, he figured he might be able to tag and dash home from second if he caught it. Mays knew that, of course. And so when the ball improbably, impo sibly, plopped into his glove, he somehow stopped on a dime and, as the cap finally fell from his head, he wheeled and made a perfect throw to second. Doby only made it to third. He never did score, and so Dusty Mitch Haniger Jersey Rhodes would be able to win the game in the 10th off Bob Lemon. New York Giants center fielder Willie Mays, running at top speed with his back to the plate, gets under a 450-foot blast off the bat of Cleveland Indians first baseman Vic Wertz to pull the ball down in front of the wall in the eighth inning of Game 1 of the 1954 World Series. AP Willie Mays could beat you in more ways than any ballplayer who ever lived, said Leo Durocher, who was the Giants manager that day, and whod been teammates with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, among many others, as a player. There wasnt a thing he couldnt do on a ballfield. He was a joy to manage. It was Durocher who helped fuel the legend. Mays went hitle s in his first 12 at-bats in the major leagues in 1951, and was weeping on a stool in the Giants clubhouse. I dont belong here, Mays said. I cant play here. I cant help you, Mr. Leo. To which Durocher replied: Youre the best center fielder Ive ever seen. As long as Im here, youre going to play center field. Tomorrow, next week, next month. As long as Leo Durocher is manager of this team you will be on this club because youre the best ballplayer I have ever seen. Willie Mays makes a catch of a ball hit by Cleveland Indians Vic Wertz in Game 1 of the 1954 baseball World Series in New Yorks Polo Grounds. AP The next day, in his 13th at-bat, Mays hit a home run against Warren Spahn. By October he helped fuel the Giants miracle comeback against the Dodgers, and was standing on deck when Bobby Thomson hit the Shot Heard Round the World. By then, he was already a fixture in his Harlem neighborhood, playing stickball with kids after coming home from work. And by 54, after losing two seasons to the Army, Mays fully emerged as what he would be acro s the next 19 years, stretching all the way to one more World Series, as a 73 Met, winning Game 2 with the final hit in his final at-bat. That 54 season he hit .345 with 41 homers, 110 RBIs and 13 triples. The next year he was even better: 51 homers, 127 RBIs. And then he was gone, shipped to California, his talents hidden on the West Coast. His visits back east would invariably fill Shea Stadium. And when he was traded back home, in May 1972, he celebrated the news in the only way he knew how: hitting a game-winning home run. Willie Mays, who died Tuesday at the age of 93, poses for a portrait during a Giants game. MLB Photos via Getty Images A year later, with much of the magic stripped from his legs, he famously whispered into a microphone at Shea: Willie, say good-bye to America. In retirement, in repose, few baseball players made other baseball players blush and stammer. Theyd all seen The Catch. Theyd all heard about The Throw. They knew well The Legend. Willie never really said goodbye to America until his great heart finally stopped beating Tuesday. And as long as we can still see him running after Vic Wertzs blast, as long as thats just a few clicks on a smart phone away, well never have to. Some things really are forever. Andres Munoz Jersey
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