It will be 65 years next Tuesday that 20-year-old Willie Mays got the news he was leaving the Minneapolis Millers for the big leagues.
The citizenry here went into mourning after hearing about Mays’ promotion to the New York Giants. Even way back then some fans probably intuited that after 35 games with the Millers the shy young man from Alabama would one day be on the short list of baseball’s greatest players ever. But no matter the baseball intellect of a Millers fan, all who watched Mays knew they were looking at one hell of a player.
Playing for the Triple-A Millers in the American Association, Mays was already showing the five-tool skills that some baseball historians argue make him the best all-round player ever. Mays hit for average and power, could run down balls in the outfield like few before him or since, had a powerful arm to throw out base runners, and used his speed to steal bases, and turn singles into doubles and doubles into triples.
The “Say Hey Kid” had more than extraordinary skills, though. He played the game with flair, making basket catches with his glove, losing his cap while dashing around the bases, and sliding head first into a base or home plate.
Mays was pounding American Association pitching in his one and only spring in Minneapolis when the New York Giants, the Millers’ parent club, purchased his contract and ordered him to join their roster. Mays protested the promotion, unsure he was ready for the bigs.
I was too young to see Mays in Minneapolis and witness his call-up but I remember my uncle George sometimes told me a story that went something like this:
“Leo Durocher, the Giants manager, got on the phone with the worried Mays and told him to get to New York. Willie said, ‘But Mr. Leo, I don’t know if I can hit up there.’
“Durocher asked Willie what he was hitting in Minneapolis. Willie confessed he was batting .477.
“Durocher then told Willie he needed someone to play center field and Willie was so good in the field he didn’t care what Willie hit for the Giants.”
Millers’ fans and media took the news poorly about Mays heading to the majors—protesting that he wasn’t ready to play on baseball’s biggest stage. Why rush the young man and perhaps ruin his career by shaking his confidence if things initially didn’t go well?
Fans here were mad at the Giants including owner Horace Stoneham. Local baseball authority Dave Mona recalled the emotions in his 2008 book Beyond the Sports Huddle. “Finally, Stoneham bought space in the Minneapolis papers and ran an apology for taking Willie and listed reasons in his defense,” Mona wrote.
By season’s end neither the Giants nor Mays had any regrets about snatching the future Hall of Famer away from Minneapolis. Mays shored up the Giants defense, hit .274 with 20 home runs and 68 RBI, and was named National League Rookie of the Year. More importantly, the Giants won the National League pennant, winning an unforgettable playoff game against the Dodgers on Bobby Thomson’s home run—“The Shot Heard Round the World.”
Millers’ fans watched the debut season and no doubt took pride in knowing Willie was one of their all-time heroes. And for awhile during the 1950s it was more than a dream that Willie would one day return to Minneapolis—and not just for 35 games.
Stoneham’s Giants, despite the box-office draw of Mays and having World Series teams in 1951 and 1954, weren’t successful in attracting fans. The Giants were New York’s third most popular team after the mighty Yankees and the Dodgers in Brooklyn.
Stoneham had his eye on a move to Minneapolis where his National League Giants would fill the area’s desire for big league baseball. The Giants purchased land west of downtown Minneapolis as a potential site for a new ballpark. Eventually leaders from Minneapolis, Bloomington and Richfield sold bonds to build Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington, replacing ancient Nicollet Park where Mays and Millers teams had played for decades.
After Metropolitan Stadium opened, Stoneham sent his Giants here to play one or two exhibition games against the Millers. He was testing the public’s interest, and large crowds responded. Knowing and admiring many of the Millers players before they went to the big leagues, fans wanted the Giants in Minneapolis. No player received a louder roar of adulation from fans in an exhibition game at Metropolitan Stadium than Mays when he came to the plate.
Dodgers’ owner Walter O’Malley spoiled the dream, though, of the Giants coming here. O’Malley had spent years negotiating with politicos in Brooklyn over a new stadium to replace Ebbet’s Field. He wanted his Dodgers to play in Major League Baseball’s first dome. By 1957 O’Malley had enough of stalled out talks. He was in negotiations with Los Angeles officials and took his Dodgers to southern California starting with the 1958 season. Before he headed west he convinced Stoneham that San Francisco was the place for the Giants. Two teams on the West Coast made travel and costs much more efficient for all the National League teams. In California the Dodgers and Giants could also continue their historic rivalry.
The Giants to Minneapolis balloon burst! So, too, did the hopes of bringing back Mays to Minnesota. In a way it was also Willie’s loss.
Snooty San Franciscans looked at Mays and decided he was a product of New York. Fans wanted their own new hero and found him in 1958 with rookie slugger and first baseman Orlando Cepeda who had played with the Millers. Mays was often booed in his early years in San Francisco, while Cepeda was revered.
That may have hurt Mays but he likely was more bothered by the sometimes brutal cold and windy weather in the Giants’ home stadium. Candlestick Park winds blew balls back into play that right-hand sluggers like Mays hit hard enough to clear the fence.
Lord only knows how many more home runs Mays would have totaled had he played at Metropolitan Stadium with its normally clalm winds and friendly fences. Even after enduring much of his career at Candlestick, Mays ranks fifth in all-time major league home runs with 660.
The Mays total was also held back by missing almost two full seasons of baseball. In 1952 and 1953 Mays served in the Army. In the 1940s and 1950s it was common for players to have their big league careers interrupted by military service. The immortal Ted Williams, who played for the Millers in 1938, missed three seasons with the Red Sox during World War II and two more during the Korean Conflict.
Mays hit 41 home runs in 1954 after returning from the service. The next season he totaled 51, the second highest number of his career. In 1965, the year Mays played in the All-Star Game at Metropolitan Stadium, he had a career high 52 homes runs.
Mays turned 85 on May 6. Here’s an idea, Willie. Why don’t you hang around at least 10 more years. Then come to Minneapolis in May of 2026 and celebrate the 75th anniversary of your promotion from the Minneapple to the Big Apple.
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