The blog for Mets fans
who like to read

ABOUT US

Jason Fry and Greg Prince
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

Got something to say? Leave a comment, or email us at faithandfear@gmail.com.

Need our RSS feed? It's here.

Visit our Facebook page, or drop by the personal pages for Greg and Jason.

Or follow us on Twitter: Here's Greg, and here's Jason.

Hands on the Torch

Willie Mays emerges in centerfield after the briefest videoboard introduction in which he was pictured mostly in the cap and uniform he wore when he was first wowing his millions of fans several thousand miles to the east. He’s engulfed Teddy Ballgame-style by a mostly new generation of All-Stars: a few perennials, but primarily young guns. They’re kids born way the heck after 1973, after Willie has said goodbye to America. But they know their baseball.

Maybe the 2007 National League and American League All-Stars have been too cutely choreographed into their veritable group hug with the Say Hey elder, but the affection and reverence seem genuine. These are the best in today’s game and they know greatness when they are touched by it. It’s reassuring to see these fellows understand what they’re a part of — and I don’t mean the 2007 All-Star Game.

Willie’s at home in center. You’re not going to ask Willie Mays to leave his house on this occasion, thus these will be the grounds from which he’ll throw out the first pitch. Willie in centerfield…the game coming to him…nice touch.

He’s handed a ball. Willie, 76, had one of the great arms ever; just ask the 1954 American League (not World) Champion Cleveland Indians. So of course he’s waving back his catcher, a glint of genuine fire in his eyes. It’s one thing to bring the game to him. It’s another to make it unnecessarily easy on him. He doesn’t need your help. He’s no visiting dignitary. Never mind where they’ve moved the plate for the festivities. Willie’s clutching a baseball in his right hand. That, too, means Willie Mays is home.

His catcher obliges the pitcher’s request.

He backs up.

He crouches.

And he’s…

Jose Reyes?

How did starting shortstop Jose Reyes, in the cap and uniform Willie Mays wore when last wowing his millions of fans several thousand miles to the east, wind up with first-pitch catching duties? Was it just the logistics of the lineups? The N.L. and A.L. turned and snaked from the infield to center after their introductions more or less in the order they were standing. Was it planned that our Jose be on the receiving end of a throw from Willie Mays because by dint of batting leadoff for the home team he’d be trailing at the back of the queue? Was it just convenience? What, Russell Martin couldn’t emerge from tending to Jake Peavy and do a catcher’s job? Would Willie not throw to a Dodger? What about Brian McCann?

Say hey and who cares? Look at that tableau! Willie Mays and Jose Reyes! Pitcher and catcher — unlikely positions, but we’ll take them.

Willie rocks and deals. A strike! (Who’d argue?) Then, as all of All-Stardom serves as parted Red Sea, the two approach each other. What happens next? Does Professor Reyes untuck his pinstripes and engage Mr. Mays in a trademark celebratory cha-cha? Does Willie just keep walking as Willie has been known to do? Willie has just thrown the first pitch at 24 Willie Mays Plaza. He can do what he wants.

Willie Mays wants to greet Jose Reyes.

They clasp hands soul-shake style. They clasp like brothers, like members of a very select fraternity of ballplayers. Thrill Epsilon Wow. You’re initiated on the basepaths, at the plate, all over the field. You don’t get in by being merely great. You have to be incredible.

The moment between Willie Mays and Jose Reyes is a laying on of mitts. It’s a passing of the torch from the one New York National Leaguer you could never take your eyes off to the next. Willie Mays may be godfather to somebody else here tonight, but it’s Jose Reyes, 24 and still figuring things out, who plays like his spiritual heir.

A lot of time, too much time, has flown between the twilight of Mays and the age of Reyes for us to call this a direct flight. Three decades moseyed on by after Willie exited and before Jose entered. It was an eventful enough interregnum for our New York Mets, but it was lacking something. Verve…panache…joie de ball. There were some fine and extremely dandy everyday players in our particular midst who preoccupied us from 1973 to 2003, but none to whose career we New York (N.L.) types can lay some or total claim who generated, just by showing up, as much pure and spontaneous excitement as Willie Mays did or Jose Reyes does. The game we love is just better when there’s a cap departing Willie’s head or a base greeting Jose’s arrival. We didn’t get more than a taste of the former on our terms. But we’re making up for it with loads of the latter.

Now they’re together, in centerfield a continent away, cementing what feels like — through the television and a lifetime of rooting for the only team that has sent Jose Reyes and Willie Mays to an All-Star Game — an intensely sacred bond.

Theirs. Ours.

These members of the highly exclusive Order of Swift Feet, Cannon Arm, Quick Bat, Awesome Instincts and Genius for the Game unclasp hands. The Charisma Summit is ending almost as soon as it started. But before it concludes business for good, Willie knows exactly what to do.

He signs the ball for Jose Reyes.

A sport, recognizing its greatest living practitioner, is savoring him. A city, one that eventually smartened up about adopting a favorite son, is embracing him. Yet Willie Mays puts all that on hold to sign a baseball for Jose Reyes.

Jose Reyes accepts what Willie Mays has given him. “I’ll save that ball all my life,” he says.

I, too, will keep what Willie Mays and Jose Reyes just gave me. You don’t have to travel to San Francisco in July to know what a chill feels like.

8 comments to Hands on the Torch

  • Anonymous

    transplant mets fan and sf resident here who shudders with the appropriateness of that last statement. its god damned cold here in july.

  • Anonymous

    When I saw Willie conversing with the umpires, I started having Augie Donatelli flashbacks.

  • Anonymous

    It was funny watching Barry Bonds get ordered around.
    Was it my imagination, or did Reyes steal the Say Hey Kid's Sharpie?
    “…and I also got this cool marker!”

  • Anonymous

    Tony LaRussa is a big, fat, frikken idiot!

  • Anonymous

    Oh, and by the way, nice piece, Greg.

  • Anonymous

    That was without a doubt one of the greatest things I've ever seen. Sitting there with my father(which also made me realize how much baseball is a game that bonds father/son — as he relayed stories of Mays to me his 22 year old pain in the ass.)
    One of the greatest sports moments I've ever watched. The proudness I had when it was Reyes catching, and the way they interacted. Couldn't of happened to a better player. Couldn't of been a better moment for Met faithful.

  • Anonymous

    I couldn't believe it when I saw it was Jose catching the ball from Willie. Such a nice moment for him. And to then get the ball, what a topper.

  • Anonymous

    I'm a little unclear on that because I saw the marker come out of Willie's pocket and Jose leave with it, but Jose claimed he brought a pen with him for the occasion.
    Reminds me of a play I went with my sister and her theater-loving friend to see when I was eleven. The friend wanted to wait by the stage door in hopes that the lead actress would come out and sign his Playbill (he wasn't alone in that quest). So the actress, a well-known television star in her day, comes out and there's a bit of a mob scene. I can feel my sister's disdain for the process but she loans her friend a pen so he can get the signature. The star signs the program, one of many. But she holds on to the pen in the midst of the deluge of autograph requests. Nevertheless, my sister is all “can I have my pen back?” The actress basically and mindlessly threw it at her. It was more a toss than a throw but my sister has had it in for Marlo Thomas ever since.
    Hope Willie doesn't feel the same about Jose.