Pittsburgh Press columnist Jeff Samuels wrote of a May 1973 afternoon at Three Rivers Stadium, with the early arrivals watching the New York Mets take batting practice. A 42-year-old former great stepped into the batting cage for his turn. A father told his young son, “That’s Willie Mays.” The boy perked up. Mays bunted a pitch, watched another go by, and fouled the next weakly to the top of the cage. That was the result for most of the next dozen or so swings before Mays stepped out. He hit only two balls past home plate.
What was Mays even doing out there? His manager, Yogi Berra, didn’t want him. One might think there would be mutual respect between two men who played in the same city during the same era, but the two didn’t get along. Mays exasperated Berra with unexcused absences and unreasonable demands for playing time. The front office didn’t want him, either. But the person who wanted Mays with the Mets was the one whose opinion counted the most.
Mets majority owner Joan Payson grew up in New York as a fan and, later, a minority owner of the New York Giants, and Mays was one of her favorite players. Mrs. Payson wanted him on the Mets badly. On May 11, 1972, her general manager, Bob Scheffing, made it happen. Scheffing traded pitcher Charlie Williams and $50,000 to the San Francisco Giants to bring Mays back to New York. Part of Mrs. Payson’s motivation was to get Mays into the World Series one last time. Bringing him to the Mets seemed like a strange way to go about it. Although the Giants were 8-16 at the time of the trade, they had won the National League West Division in 1971 before succumbing in the League Championship Series to the eventual World Series champion Pittsburgh Pirates. The talent-laden Pirates would win the NL East Division again in 1972 and seemed poised to dominate it for years.
“I Felt I Could Help Them”
By 1973, Mays was no longer the Say-Hey Kid of old. He had dark circles under his eyes, didn’t hit, throw, or run well, and moved as though everything was hurting him. He hit an atypical .211/.303/.344, with six home runs and 25 RBI in 66 games. He couldn’t get around on the high fastball anymore. In center field, he made only one error and was worth two Fielding Runs Above Average, but despite those numbers, his defense didn’t pass the eye test. He often stumbled and fell chasing fly balls.
On August 21, as Mays spoke to Milton Richman of United Press International, he was aware that his career was in the fourth quarter and the referee had just signaled for the two-minute warning. “You know why I’m still playing this year?” he asked. “I’ll tell you why. Only because I’m back here in New York where I started and I felt some people still wanted to see me play. Look, I know some days I’m not good, not playing well. Some days I’m all right, though. I do the best I can. If you watched the games I played, I don’t think I played bad. . . There are a lot of young fellas on this club, and I felt I could help them in some way. I think I have.”
There were likely unspoken financial considerations as well. Mays had persistent financial troubles throughout his career and earned $165,000 in his final year.
“Willie, Say Good-Bye to America”
The Mets held Willie Mays Night at Shea Stadium on September 25, and Mays had a surprise announcement for the attendees. Only a few close associates knew he was planning on announcing his retirement. Because of bruised ribs, he hadn’t appeared in a game in two weeks. He received gifts from local store owners, Chrysler Plymouth, Pan American Airlines, American Airlines, the boxer Joe Frazier, the Giants – but nothing from the Mets. Finally, Mays spoke. He apologized for taking up everybody’s time, as though the crowd that just gave him a six-minute standing ovation minded, and tearfully concluded with, “But this is my farewell. I thought I’d never quit. I see these kids over here [the Mets], and I see how these kids are fighting for a pennant, and it says to me one thing: Willie, say good-bye to America.”
Mrs. Payson Knew After All
A funny thing happened on the way to the season’s end. The Mets won the East Division title. After three consecutive 83-win, third-place finishes, they won the division with an 82-79 record. The Pirates spent 1973 reeling from the untimely death of Roberto Clemente the previous New Year’s Eve, pitcher Steve Blass’s mysterious inability to find the strike zone, and a few foolish personnel decisions. Even so, the Pirates were in the driver’s seat, closing their schedule with six home games against the bottom-feeding Philadelphia Phillies and Montreal Expos. They lost four of the six, forcing the San Diego Padres, the West Division’s cellar dweller, to come to Pittsburgh to make up a rainout on the regular season’s final day. Pittsburgh lost that game, too. Meanwhile, the Mets won the first game of their season-ending doubleheader against the Chicago Cubs. When the news reached Shea that the Pirates had lost, the umpires canceled the now-unnecessary second game.
The Mets were led by their best player, right fielder Rusty Staub, a popular carrot-topped, left-handed hitter who hit .279/.361/.421, 15 HR, and 76 RBI. The Houston Colt .45s signed Staub as an amateur free agent at age 17 in 1961. By 1968, the Colt .45s were the Astros, and Staub was an All-Star for the second consecutive season. But the politically hip Daniel Joseph Staub angered Astros ownership by refusing to play on the day of Bobby Kennedy’s funeral. After the season, the Astros traded him to the expansionist Expos. Nicknamed Le Grande Orange by the Montreal fans, he became one of the most popular players in Expos history. He gave them three All-Star seasons. But the team was bad, and the Expos had few players who could fetch some sorely needed help in a trade, so in 1972, they dealt him to the Mets for Tim Foli, Mike Jorgensen, and Ken Singleton, plugging holes at shortstop and first base while getting a good right fielder to replace Staub. Meanwhile, Staub was excited to be a Met. When the Mets finished 83-73 in 1972, it was the first time he’d played on a major league team that had a winning season.
The NL Championship Series
The Mets’ opponent in the NLCS was the Cincinnati Reds, who won 99 games and took the West Division title. The West Division had three teams that won more games than the Mets. The combatants split the first two games of the best-of-five series at Cincinnati’s Riverfront Stadium, and Mays didn’t appear in either game. It was when the series moved to Shea Stadium that all hell broke loose.
In Game 3, all of the scoring took place in the first four innings, with the Mets ahead, 9-2. Staub, who homered in Game 2, hit two more home runs, both off left-handed pitching, but his feat was overshadowed by what happened at the top of the fifth inning. The Reds’ Pete Rose slid hard into Mets shortstop Bud Harrelson, knocking him down in an attempt to break up a double play. Mets fans saw it as unnecessary in a lopsided game. So did Harrelson, apparently. On June 4, Harrelson broke his wrist in Cincinnati on a similar play. This time, Harrelson cursed Rose as he got back on his feet. Rose charged and pushed with both hands. Out came the bullpens and benches. Third baseman Wayne Garrett came over and jumped on Rose’s back. Peripheral fights broke out, and a five-minute free-for-all ensued.
After the game, Rose told the assembled media, “I play hard, and I battle an opponent every inch of the way, but I’ve never played dirty, and never did I try to hurt anybody during a game.” Harrelson thought that Rose threw an elbow at him (which Rose denied), but didn’t think there would be any carryover into Game 4. He expressed disappointment at the Mets fans’ reactions.
When Rose took his position in left field at the bottom of the inning, fans in left field greeted him by throwing beer cans and debris. Vendors described fans swiping cans from their trays and throwing them at Rose, who threw some back. Reds manager Sparky Anderson told Rose to play shallow left-center field to avoid being hit. Rose refused. “Can you imagine that?” he told the press. “We’re playing for a championship, and I have to play left-center field.” When a whiskey bottle came close to hitting him on the head, Rose and the Reds left the field. Mays, who didn’t get into this game either, was one of four Mets chosen to go into left field and calm the fans down so the game could resume.
The Reds took Game 4, 2-1, thanks to Rose’s 12th-inning home run off Harry Parker. A more significant event took place in the visitors’ half of the 11th inning, however. With two men on base and two outs, the Reds’ Dan Driessen hit a long fly ball to right field. Staub made a spectacular catch of the drive, his right shoulder crashing hard into the wall. Jim Murray of The Los Angeles Times described it as “with roughly the same impact of falling from a third-story window – onto concrete.” Staub remained in the game, but overnight, the shoulder became swollen and sore. The Mets would be without their best player in the deciding Game 5.
A Bit of Magic Left: Part One
On the day Vice President Spiro Agnew resigned, the Mets and Reds battled to determine who would go to the World Series. (Fun fact: One can rearrange the letters in “Spiro Agnew” and spell “grow a spine.”) Left fielder Cleon Jones took Staub’s place in right field. In left field, Berra started left-handed hitting Ed Kranepool against the Reds’ right-hander Jack Billingham. The popular Kranepool, the last of the original Mets to remain on the team, was primarily a first baseman. Mays confessed that he usually stayed in the clubhouse when he wasn’t playing – another likely source of frustration for Berra – but watched from the dugout in case Kranepool needed his help.
In the bottom of the fifth with the score tied, 2-2, Garrett led off with a double, Felix Millan beat out a bunt, and Jones drove in Garrett with a double. Left-hander Don Gullett entered the game and walked John Milner to load the bases. Berra decided to pinch-hit Mays, who hadn’t yet played in the series, for Kranepool. The crowd at Shea went wild as soon as Mays stepped out of the dugout. Anderson countered with right-hander Clay Carroll. Mays swung hard and hit a high chopper toward Carroll. By the time it came down, everybody was safe, and the Mets had a fourth run. They scored two more before Carroll got out of the inning. Mays remained in the game to play center field. The Mets won, 7-2.
With Staub out, Mays was expected to play in the World Series. “I’m sure I’ll play a lot,” Mays told the media scrum. “I think [Berra] understands that when I want to play, I can.”
The World Series
The Mets’ opponent in the World Series was the defending champion Oakland Athletics. The Athletics famously didn’t get along. However, they were united in their dislike of their flamboyant, meddling owner, Charlie O. Finley, and their desire to repeat as champions. Although he didn’t announce it until immediately after Game 7, A’s manager Dick Williams had already decided that he would never work for Finley again after the Series. Mays started Game 1 in center field, batting in Staub’s No. 3 spot in the order, at Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum. The regular center fielder, Don Hahn, was shifted over to Staub’s position in right field. At this point in their careers, Hahn was a better outfielder than Mays. But Mays had been defining center field since his rookie year in 1951, when Hahn was two years old. Willie Mays doesn’t cede center field to the Don Hahns of the world.
Mays was 1-for-4 in the game, but he had a rough afternoon. He stumbled rounding first base on his single and had to scramble back to the bag. In the third inning, he let Sal Bando’s single go through his legs for an error. The A’s took Game 1, 2-1.
Staub returned to the lineup and his familiar spots in the batting order and in right field for Game 2. His shoulder continued to bother him throughout the Series, but he gallantly soldiered on, making quick, underhand tosses to the infield when the ball came his way. He singled up the middle in the top of the ninth with the Mets ahead, 6-4. Berra sent Mays to pinch-run for Staub and play center field, with Hahn again switching to right field.
Unfortunately, in the bottom of the ninth, Mays misplayed Deron Johnson’s fly ball into a leadoff double. Watching Mays twist and turn, and then fall down chasing the ball, NBC broadcaster Tony Kubek told play-by-play man Curt Gowdy, “Boy, Curt, this is the thing I think all sports fans in all areas hate to see, a great one playing in his last years, having this kind of trouble, standing up and falling down.”
The Athletics went on to score twice in the frame and tie the game, 6-6. Mays played a role in the lead being squandered away, but he had one more trick up his sleeve.
A Bit of Magic Left: Part Two
The game was still tied in the 12th inning with Oakland’s relief ace, Rollie Fingers, on the mound. Harrelson led off with a double, and then Mets reliever Tug McGraw, of all people, beat out a bunt for a single. Garrett and Millan were retired without scoring Harrelson. Mays was next, and the wily veteran would outfox the A’s.
Mays watched a hard slider from Fingers go by. The game was approaching the four-hour mark, and dark shadows began to creep up on the infield. Mays complained to A’s catcher Ray Fosse, “I can’t see, man!” Fosse figured, if the old man can’t see the ball, why play with sliders that break out of the strike zone? He signaled for a fastball down the middle. His con job having worked, Mays stroked a hard ground ball over Fingers’ glove and through the middle of the infield for a single to drive in the go-ahead run. He stumbled coming out of the batter’s box on the way to first base. But this was baseball, not figure skating, so style points didn’t matter. What was important was that he found a way to get the run in. By the time the inning was over, the Mets scored three more, aided by two critical errors by A’s second baseman Mike Andrews.
In the bottom of the twelfth, Mays played Reggie Jackson’s leadoff fly ball into a triple, making little effort for it. But that led to just one more run for Oakland, and the Mets won Game 2, 10-7.
Finley Being Finley
As the Athletics were boarding a flight to New York, where the Series would resume for the next three games, a club official told Andrews he was no longer on the team. Finley had the team physician write a bogus report to the effect that, because of an old shoulder injury, Andrews was unable to play. Finley sought to have Andrews placed on the injured list so he could add Manny Trillo to the Series roster, but essentially, Finley was firing Andrews. He pressured Andrews into signing an affidavit saying he was injured. Andrews and his equipment went home to Boston.
When the matter quickly became public, the Athletics players were outraged. They considered walking out in protest and not playing in the Series. Jackson said he wanted to be traded. Commissioner Bowie Kuhn stepped in and forced Finley to reinstate Andrews, who joined the A’s from Boston. When Andrews pinch-hit in Game 4, the Shea Stadium crowd gave him a standing ovation. After the Series, Andrews continued his baseball career in Japan.
The Say-Hey Kid’s Last Ride
With sentiment for Mays, admiration for Staub’s valiant efforts, and disdain for the robber-baron Finley, a nation rooted for the Mets. In Game 3, which Oakland won in 11 innings, Mays made his final appearance in a ball game, pinch-hitting in the bottom of the 10th against Paul Lindblad and grounding into a force.
In Game 4, Staub hit an opposite-field, three-run home run off Ken Holtzman in the first inning to jump-start the Mets to a Series-evening 6-1 victory. Staub went 4-for-4 with five RBI and a walk. It was just Staub’s third home run to the opposite field in 1973, but as he explained to Tom Loomis of The Toledo Blade, he had to change his batting style because of the injury. “I came in here early and did a lot of work in the batting cage,” said Staub. “I had to adjust to the circumstances. I guess it just takes concentration and hard work. I knew I could give that much.”
The Mets won Game 5, 2-0, to send the Series back to Oakland. Roger Angell of The New Yorker, an unabashed Mets fan, spoke for the nation when he wrote in his book, Five Seasons, “I did not go back to Oakland. After the winter party in the stands [at Shea], and seeing the exuberant cheerfulness in the Mets’ clubhouse that night, which almost suggested a Series celebration, I decided that Finleyland could not contain deeper rewards. What I secretly feared, of course, was almost exactly what came to pass.” The Mets’ batters were helpless against Oakland’s superior bullpen duo of Fingers and Darold Knowles, and the A’s won the final two games, 3-1 and 5-2.
Staub had 11 hits in the Series, the most by anybody on either team despite missing a game. Mays wasn’t disappointed about not appearing in the final four games, or at least that’s what he told the Associated Press. “I’m not a good pinch-hitter,” he said. “Of course, I wanted to win, but the exciting thing was winning the playoffs and getting into the Series. The only thing I’m sad about is that I’m not gonna play anymore.” He dressed and left so quickly after the game that he forgot his glove and uniform. He didn’t go back for them. Mays had said good-bye to America.
