Twilight Transcendence

Transcending the All-Star game itself last night was the ceremony paying tribute to Willie Mays, "The Say Hey Kid." [check out the video link; or just picture via words, the old-fashioned way]

Why and how does this transport us beyond sports and enter the realms of myth? No one else played with such wild abandon, glee, and elan. Willie Mays channeled all the pride and fury of raw youth into the battle of the game. And he made it all look easy.

Although Jackie Robinson became a symbol of racial pride and progress, Willie Mays, for me, was baseball. My adoration of him transformed my own attitudes toward race as I grew up in an integrated public housing project.

So, tears formed in my eyes as I watched him being honored with unabashed sentiment at AT&T Park last night in San Francisco. Willie in centerfield, Willie teasing, Willie tossing balls from a pink Cadillac into the crowd.

Willie.

I could still see the flash of youth in his eyes, and even an echo of his great arm as he lobbed baseballs to adoring fans. Sure, it was a bit corny. But the ceremony also conveyed a reverent dignity. It worked.

What I'm having trouble articulating here is this: watching Willie Mays (for me) transcended wins or losses, success or failure. His performance transcended athletic prowess. Here was someone who exhibited sheer rapture and delight in what he was doing. Period. It was exhilarating and inspiring.

He was the best, and made it look easy. (He later admitted to showboating, sometimes making a catch look harder than it was.)

Thanks for the show, Willie.

What grace.

Is there sadness now in seeing the ravages of age? I suppose so.

But Willie was cool. He truly seemed to be having a great time.

As always.

Would that I brought the same verve to my daily tasks.

Maybe I do sometimes.

(Especially if I wear that T-shirt with number 24 on the back.)