Willie, Henry and the Mick

With apologies to Stan Musial, Ted Williams, Duke Snyder, and the entire borough of Brooklyn, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron and Mickey Mantle were the best three outfielders in baseball from the mid-1950’s until 1964.

It’s a no-brainer really, and even though I will always argue for Babe Ruth on any all time team, it’s difficult for me picking the next two. Of the people I have talked to over many years of talking about baseball, Mays invariably plays centerfield on any all time team. Musial can be my utility guy, and back up Gehrig at first, and spell someone in the outfield. Williams is the DH, every day. Duke, well, he’s maybe my top guy in AAA ball. I will always include Ty Cobb and Ken Griffey, Jr. in the discussion too.

Anyway, maybe Willie, Henry and the Mick were the best of all time? I am not just saying this because I’ve read new (published in 2010) biographies of all three in the last 5 weeks, but it probably doesn’t hurt?

I finished the biography of Mickey Mantle a couple of days ago. It’s titled “The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle, and the end of America’s childhood,” by Jane Leavy. It has the best writing of the three books, and it has the best story.

Jane Leavy is a very remarkable lady. You may recall that she was able to get Sandy Koufax to talk to her at length, and publish his biography in 2002. No one had ever been able to get Koufax to talk before, but Jane Leavy did. Leavy interviewed hundreds of people for the Mantle book, but only spoke directly with Mantle on one long occasion, back in 1983. During that 24-hour period, she became the only author of a baseball biography that I am aware of to have been propositioned by her subject.

There is a very raunchy and very funny story from the book that I will email to anyone wanting it, but you have to email the request to halsteadcb@aol.com.

As sad as the Mantle and story ultimately was, I felt the Mays and Aaron stories were sadder still.

Mays is mostly alone since his wife died a few years ago, and seemingly a little bitter about things. He was almost bankrupt by the time he was traded to the Mets in 1972. He was not close to many of his old teammates after leaving the game as a player. I imagine he has some contact with his Godson, Barry Bonds. (Willie Mays: The life, The Legend, by James Hirsch)

Aaron has his dignity and a lot of money, due to all of his success in business after nearly being bankrupt before his trade to the Brewers back in 1974. Like Mays, Henry didn’t have many close friends in baseball aside from Dusty Baker, after Billy Bruton died. (The Last Hero: A Life of Henry Aaron, by Howard Bryant)

The Mick was beloved by teammates, and loved them right back. His failing as a father and husband are well documented, he drank himself to death, and many in his family fared just as badly, or worse. Mick was always just about bankrupt, and kept up his pace in part to pay for a son’s cancer treatments, and in part because that’s what he did. He brought other son’s along to be his drinking partners, and often the recipient of the piece of ass their dad could do better than. I think he was the best athlete to have ever played major league baseball, and as the Mick was proud to say, he “led the American League in having the clap for six straight years.”

All three books were great reading.

Mays has always been a favorite of mine, as he was my dad’s favorite ballplayer – no one else was ever close to being in the conversation. Aaron was the guy that just did it, year after year after year. He had a career of consistent excellence, but never seemed to be a consensus #1. The Mick, well, he was only what we all wanted to be – the best player on the best team.