Celebrating Juneteenth and Willie Mays

A great day and the greatest baseball player of all-time

I realize this is a day of celebration, but it's also a sobering reminder of the massive blind spot our Founding Fathers had in 1776 when they issued the Declaration of Independence with the words "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness."

A SOBERING REMINDER OF SLAVERY ... A number of people may have wondered why the banks were closed and there was no mail delivered today. Others eventually realized it was Juneteenth, our most recently declared national holiday. Still others knew it was Juneteenth from the moment they got out of bed and there are probably some poor souls out there who still haven't figured it out.

My late brother-in-law Jimmy Block, an African American who grew up in Texas and Oklahoma, schooled me about Juneteenth many decades ago, telling me just how important this day was to him and his family when he was a boy.

I realize this is a day of celebration, but it's also a sobering reminder of the massive blind spot our Founding Fathers had in 1776 when they issued the Declaration of Independence with the words "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness."

How they could not have seen the massive evil that many of the Founders were themselves participating in, is simply unbelievable. They clearly knew that slavery was wrong and they chose to ignore it. Every human being at every point in human history knew in their soul that slavery in any form was wrong.

I used to think that slavery was a historic reality that happened long ago, but one day I did the math and realized that during my lifetime there were most certainly some people still alive who had one day been slaves in America.

My dad's birth was separated from the declaration in Galveston of June 19, 1865 by only 46 years, and he returned from combat duty in World War II angry that the country he was fighting for still segregated its troops along racial lines.

Indeed, we've come a long way from 1776 and 1865, but we have many miles yet to cover.

MY ONE MAGIC MOMENT WITH WILLIE MAYS ... The date was October 14, 1973. The Oakland A's were chasing their third straight World Series championship and owner Charlie Finley was feeling especially generous with his press passes to media members far and near.

As a young sports editor for a small community newspaper in Davis, I received a credential for every game of the Series that would be played in Oakland, which ahead of time meant Games 1 and 2 for sure and potentially Games 6 and 7 if necessary. I wouldn't have missed this for the world. As luck would have it, the Series ran to seven games and, yes, I attended all four games at the Oakland Coliseum.

But it was on October 14, before the second game of the Series, that sportswriters were allowed onto the field several hours before game time to watch batting practice and chat casually with any players who might be willing to talk, which was usually most of them.

It was almost comical to watch seasoned sportswriters twice my age walking around with a baseball in their back pocket, hoping to snag an autograph or two from their favorites.

I happened to spot Willie Mays, shockingly sitting alone at the end of the Mets dugout, lacing up his cleats. Seizing the moment, I approached him with my best smile and thanked him for the many thrills he had provided for so many of us during his 22 years (1951-72) with the Giants. Sensing he was dealing with a rookie, Mays kindly stood up, shook my hand and asked me where I was from.

When I told him "Davis," he noted that he had been through my hometown a few times on his way to Lake Tahoe, then jokingly said, "I always thought it was called 'Davis Exit.' " We both laughed.

And that was it. That would be my entire Willie Mays story, but for one small detail.

1973 World Series Press Pin given to journalists in attendance

The game itself, which ran a World Series record 4 hours and 13 minutes, went into extra innings.

Mays, who played his traditional centerfield that day, came to bat with two outs in the top of the 12th with teammate Bud Harrelson on third and the score tied, 6-6. Mays singled sharply, scoring Harrelson, and the Mets went on to win, 10-7.

Willie Mays had 3,243 hits during his Hall of Fame career. That run-scoring single in the top of the 12th was No. 3,243.

The Mets returned to Oakland for games 6 and 7, but Mays, 42 years old and about to retire, did not play in either of them as Oakland claimed the series, 4 games to 3, with a 5-2 win in Game 7.

Over the years, there has been a spirited debate among folks who follow America's Pastime closely as to whether Babe Ruth or Willie Mays was the greatest ever to play the game.

Remembering that beautiful October afternoon at the Oakland Coliseum, my vote goes to Willie Mays.

STRANGE COINCIDENCE ... On Monday I wrote about retiring UC Davis women's tennis coach Bill Maze. Today I'm writing about Willie Mays. 

Same pronunciation, different spelling.

Both all-everything in their respective fields.

You can reach me at bobdunning@thewaryone.com