John Wynn drove a gold 1969 Cadillac Coupe deVille. Tall, dignified and easy going, he had a touch of gray at the edges of both his hair and mustache. The hair was medium length, and not processed like Sinclair’s, the delivery man whose electric smile was framed by a swooping conk that came to a duck-tail in the back. I thought his name really was Sinclair, but it turned out that was just what Ruby called him, 'cause his van was always parked at the Sinclair gas station next to Elm Dairy, the store we got our food delivered from. Ruby was our housekeeper. She claimed she had dreamed me a year before I was born, and was more of a mother to me than my own. She lived with us and had for years, her husband Pete back in Uniontown PA, working in the steel mills. Ruby hardly ever ate, but drank coffee all day. I can see her right now, white cup in hand, leaning on the kitchen counter, talking to Sinclair, who had just put down a box. I don't remember what they'd say, just the energy and laughter. How her song flowed different when she talked to him.
Willie was one of those guys who seemed to possess magic, and you really got to it. I love the dignity of John Wynn and the way he kept that magic alive.
He was mythic. As we watched the mlb network coverage the morning after his death we mourned along. Too moved at times to speak. One of my husband and sons great heroes. My brother’s too. You could feel the odd space Brooklyn Dodgers fans left open for Willy I think. The respect and awe.
Closest thing to my early memories of going to church, contemplating his life and death and place in our history.
“His name, a piece of poetry. His famous basket-catch, a bit of soft-shoe in the middle of a ballet”… that may be the most perfect summation of the mystery and magic of Willie Mays I’ve ever heard. He was mythic. Your words rose to meet the grace in his game, and if I had anything to do with it, would be enshrined in Cooperstown.
That's a strong comment. Made me want to swipe second and never give it back. Felt good when I wrote the soft shoe line -- i didn't do a bat flip but I did stand there for a second admire it as it sailed towards the stands.
My Dad took me to a Giants game in the Polo Grounds. During batting practice, Willie hit one slightly foul into the left field bleachers, where... I caught it. A little later, the great Mays came over and... SIGNED IT!!!!
Willie was one of those guys who seemed to possess magic, and you really got to it. I love the dignity of John Wynn and the way he kept that magic alive.
He was mythic. As we watched the mlb network coverage the morning after his death we mourned along. Too moved at times to speak. One of my husband and sons great heroes. My brother’s too. You could feel the odd space Brooklyn Dodgers fans left open for Willy I think. The respect and awe.
Closest thing to my early memories of going to church, contemplating his life and death and place in our history.
So beautiful Patris. I might have to add it it as a footnote-- Thank you for passing on some strong testimony!
🙏
They are alive in your words
“His name, a piece of poetry. His famous basket-catch, a bit of soft-shoe in the middle of a ballet”… that may be the most perfect summation of the mystery and magic of Willie Mays I’ve ever heard. He was mythic. Your words rose to meet the grace in his game, and if I had anything to do with it, would be enshrined in Cooperstown.
That's a strong comment. Made me want to swipe second and never give it back. Felt good when I wrote the soft shoe line -- i didn't do a bat flip but I did stand there for a second admire it as it sailed towards the stands.
Say, Hey! R.I.P., Willie!
My Dad took me to a Giants game in the Polo Grounds. During batting practice, Willie hit one slightly foul into the left field bleachers, where... I caught it. A little later, the great Mays came over and... SIGNED IT!!!!
them days is gone professor. Like my bat, that ball is probably long gone
Sadly, Swerdlow, true dat!😩
This is great. Didn’t know this story or about how close you were to John. That’s beautiful
You ran right out from under your cap on that one.
I got to smell Willie's cap one day...after 40 years it still smelled like him. it was weird.
priceless .. lighting in a bottle 🦎🏴☠️🧨
Later days, Willie Mays. Damn, what a passing.