Since my parents were Giants fans (San Francisco Giants fans), I can honestly say that Willie Mays has been a presence in my life as long as I can remember.

Both Willie and my parents moved to the “Bay Area” in 1958. Willie with the Giants when they moved from New York to the West Coast. My parents from Eastern Washington to Santa Cruz, California after getting married in Spokane. Willie at that time was 27. My mother would have been 27 and my father 28.

Baseball was always part of our family life. My mother had an aunt who had season tickets for the Giants (and the 49ers). I am not sure they ever took me as a kid (I have no memory of them having done so), but I know they went often to games before they had me. My favorite photo of my mother is a B&W one where she is wearing a Giants cap.

Since Willie Mays was Willie Mays, he was a presence in my life from the very beginning. Willie Mays was baseball for me the same way that William B. Yeats is poetry.

Willie Mays and I sort-of shared the same birthday. He was born on May 6th and I was born on May 7th in Palo Alto, California (which according to the obituaries I have read this morning is where Willie died).

Here is a link to the boxscore from May, 7th, 1960, the day I was born.

While I was just entering the world in Palo Alto’s Stanford University Hospital, Willie and the Giants were playing a Saturday day-game. This one against the Pirates (eventual 1960 World Champions) some 30 miles north and west. The Giants won 6-5. Willie went 1 for 4 with a stolen base.

Baseball lost a legend yesterday.

requiescat in pace, Willie.