Willie Mays Played With Unbridled Joy While Displaying Mastery of Baseball Fundamentals

Willie Mays, who passed away on Tuesday at the age of 93, left an indelible imprint on sports history and American culture. Two primary themes connect most of the numerous tributes to Mays: he radiated joy because of how much he loved playing baseball, and he mastered all of the fundamentals of the game. 

Mays' joy was twofold: he enjoyed himself while playing baseball, and he enjoyed entertaining the fans who watched him playing baseball. Some sports stars are aloof in their interactions with the customers who make them famous and pay their salaries, but there are many stories of Mays' positive interactions with fans both at MLB ballparks and also away from the playing field, such as the accounts of him playing stickball in the street with New York kids.

Mays' mastery of baseball fundamentals enabled him to become perhaps the greatest baseball player of all-time. ESPN's SportsCentury list of the top 100 North American athletes of the 20th century is not definitive, but Mays' eighth place ranking indicates the impact that he had not just on baseball but on sports overall. Mays was the second highest ranked baseball player on that list, trailing only Babe Ruth, and that is the consensus of baseball historians: Ruth is the greatest baseball player of all-time, while Mays is a close second--but a reasonable case can be made for ranking Mays ahead of Ruth: Ruth was a great hitter and a great pitcher but not much of a defensive player or threat on the basepaths, while Mays was a five-tool baseball player who had no skill set weaknesses.

A five-tool baseball player hits for power, hits for a high batting average, has superior fielding ability, has superior throwing ability, and has superior running speed. Mays easily checked off all five boxes:

1) Power: Mays demonstrated his power by leading the National League in home runs four times (1955, 1962, 1964-65). He belted more than 50 home runs in a season twice (1955, 1965) en route to posting a career total of 660 home runs, which officially ranks sixth in MLB history but ranks fourth among players who did not artificially and illegally boost their strength with performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs)--and performance-enhancing drugs do, as the name suggests, enhance performance, even though some economists illogically argue otherwise.

2) High batting average: Mays posted a career .301 batting average, including a career-high .345 in 1954 when he won his only NL batting title. He hit at least .300 in 10 of his 22 MLB seasons.

3) Superior fielding: Mays won 12 consecutive Gold Gloves (1957-68), tied with Roberto Clemente for first all-time among outfielders, and tied for sixth all-time overall regardless of position. 

4) Superior throwing ability: Mays led NL center fielders in assists three times (1955-56, 1960), and he ranks seventh on the career MLB list with 188 assists as a center fielder.

5) Superior running speed: Mays led the NL in stolen bases for four straight seasons (1956-59), including a pair of 30 HR/30 SB seasons (1956-57). He ranked in the NL top ten in stolen bases for nine straight seasons (1954-62). Mays' career-high 40 stolen bases in 1956 may not look impressive at first glance, but that was the highest NL single season stolen bases total since 1944.

Mays' complete skill set enabled him to win two NL regular season MVP awards (1954, 1965) while earning 24 NL All-Star selections. Mays was as durable as he was productive: Mays played in at least 151 games in every season from 1954-1966.

Mays began his professional career in 1948 at age 17 in the Negro Leagues, and then he played in the minor leagues before joining the New York Giants in 1951. He won the 1951 NL Rookie of the Year award, and the Giants reached the World Series for the first time since 1937. Mays hit .182 in the 1951 World Series, and the New York Yankees won in six games. Mays missed most of the 1952 season and the entire 1953 season because of military service, but Mays returned to action in style in 1954, winning the batting title while also leading the NL in triples (13) and slugging percentage (.667). Mays earned the NL regular season MVP award, and then he led the Giants back to the World Series.

Greatness is defined not just by numbers, but also by iconic moments and plays--and, in game one of the 1954 World Series, Mays authored one of the most iconic moments in sports history: his spectacular over the shoulder catch of Vic Wertz' deep fly ball--forever immortalized as "The Catch"--followed by a strong throw to second base prevented a run from scoring in the top of the eighth inning of a 2-2 game with runners on first base and second base. The Giants did not allow a run in that inning, won the game in extra innings, and swept the series. 

The Giants moved from New York to San Francisco in 1958. Despite Mays' superb play, the Giants only reached the postseason twice between 1955 and 1971: in 1962 they lost 4-3 to the Yankees in the World Series, and in 1971 they lost 4-2 to the Pittsburgh Pirates in the National League Championship Series.

Early in the 1972 season, the Giants traded Mays to the New York Mets. Mays retired after the Mets lost 4-3 to the Oakland Athletics in the 1973 World Series. That series was not a highlight moment in Mays' career, but a legendary artist like Mays is defined by his entire body of work, not by his final brushstroke.

More than 50 years after he played in his last MLB game, Mays still is still MLB's career leader for games played in center field (2842), outfield putouts (7095), and extra-inning home runs (22). Mays' high career rankings are even more remarkable considering that (1) he played many of his home games in the cavernous Polo Grounds, (2) he did not have the advantages conferred by modern performance training methods, (3) he played in an era during which the rules favored pitchers, and (4) he did not gain an unfair advantage by using PEDs the way that Barry Bonds, Ryan Braun, Roger Clemens, Jason Giambi, Mark McGwire, Manny Ramirez, Alex Rodriguez, Sammy Sosa, and so many other cheaters did. 

Henry Aaron remains baseball's authentic home run king regardless of what MLB's official record book says, and his contemporary Willie Mays will likewise always be in baseball's pantheon. Mays brought joy to millions of people while setting the standard for all-around baseball excellence.

"Reggie": A Personal Portrait of One of the Greatest Clutch Baseball Players of All-Time

Reggie Jackson is one of my favorite athletes of all-time, and I will always remember being captivated as a young child by his three home runs off of three different pitchers in game six of the 1977 World Series. "Reggie," a documentary about Jackson's life that includes extensive interview footage with Jackson, premiered recently on Amazon Prime. I just watched the film, and it was great to see the story not only of Jackson's rise as a great baseball player but also how he overcame racism. Also, before watching "Reggie" I did not know that my favorite basketball player of all-time--Julius Erving--has long been close friends with one of my two favorite baseball players of all-time (Eric Davis is my other favorite baseball player).

Jackson bashed 563 home runs to rank sixth on MLB's career home run list when he retired, though he has now officially dropped out of the top 10 after his numbers were surpassed by PED cheaters. MLB ranks Jackson 14th now, but if you take out the PED-enhanced numbers posted by Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, and Rafael Palmeiro then Jackson ranks ninth; regarding the other three players who passed Jackson, Ken Griffey Jr. never had the body changes or numbers changes denoting PED usage, while Albert Pujols and Jim Thome are--according to what is publicly known and documented--the two greatest clean sluggers of the PED era.

Jackson played on five World Series championship teams (1972-74 with the Oakland A's, 1977-78 with the New York Yankees), capturing regular season MVP honors in 1973, and the World Series MVP in 1973 and 1977. That legendary three home run performance in 1977 cemented his reputation as "Mr. October," a nickname first given to Jackson not as a compliment but as a sarcastic remark by teammate Thurman Munson, who did not always see eye to eye with Jackson. Munson died in a 1979 plane crash. 

Near the beginning of the documentary, Jackson looks into the camera and says, "I have hesitation with this documentary because I don't have control of it." Despite his hesitation, Jackson welcomed the cameras to his home, and he set up a gorgeous shot with some of the classic cars from his legendary collection. He also let the viewer be privy to a phone conversation with Pete Rose, who needled Jackson that he is "shrinking," quipping that if Jackson gets any shorter he could ride horses as a jockey. Jackson laughed and admitted that he is only 5-10 now (Jackson was listed at 6-0 during his playing career).

Jackson talked with Hank Aaron about Aaron's pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record. Aaron contrasted the invective directed at him by some people for breaking Ruth's record the praise that Pete Rose later received for breaking Ty Cobb's hits record. Aaron concluded, with a sad and weary look on his face, "Baseball has been backwards for a long time." 

Jackson recalled being drafted by the Kansas City A's and then being sent to play minor league baseball in Birmingham, Alabama, home to the infamous Bull Connor. It is chilling to see archival footage of Connor looking into the camera and stating that he may not be able to keep Birmingham segregated forever but that he will "die trying." In the South, Jackson's teammates had to bring food to him on the team bus because restaurants refused to serve Black patrons.

Jackson soon was promoted to the big leagues with the A's in 1967. The A's moved to Oakland in 1968. Jackson quickly became a big star, but he ran afoul of team owner Charlie Finley after requesting a raise. Jackson held out of spring training, and then was benched upon his return to the team. Jackson fumed at being relegated to a limited role, but when he got an opportunity to pinch hit he made the most of it: "I had to honor the guy in the mirror that I looked at, and really say that I got everything out of what I could do. That was my goal in the game: just go out there and do something, and you won't need to talk. I hadn't played, I hadn't had spring training, but this is what I do. I'm in charge here. Once I get out of here [the playing field], and you have control of me, I'm boxed up. But not here. He's got to throw the ball over here past me, and it ain't passing." Jackson chuckled at the end of that statement, and then he concluded the story: "I hit a home run to center field with the bases loaded, and it won the game for us. And when I got around to home plate, I saluted Charlie Finley like this" (in the documentary, Jackson mimicked the well-known one finger salute, without actually making the gesture on camera).

Jackson injured his leg stealing home in the deciding game of the 1972 American League Championship Series versus Detroit, and he was unable to play in that year's World Series. He will never forget Jackie Robinson being publicly honored during the 1972 World Series for the 25th anniversary of breaking MLB's color line. When Robinson spoke to the crowd, he mentioned how proud he would be when the day finally came that he would see a Black manager in MLB. That stuck with Jackson. Robinson died nine days later. In 1975, Frank Robinson (not related to Jackie Robinson) became MLB's first Black manager. 

Jackson mentioned that the most important thing for a pro athlete is to win championships--not one championship, but more than one, to prove that you can be consistently dominant. Jackson dominated in 1973, winning MVP honors in the regular season and the World Series. 

After showing highlights from that triumph, the documentary shifted to the current time, with Jackson visiting Julius Erving's home. Car aficionado Jackson looked with admiration at Erving's 1985 Rolls Royce, pointing to the car's distinctive hood ornament and asking Erving if he knows what it is called. Erving did not know, and Jackson said, "That's called the lady of ecstasy." Erving chuckled: "You know more about my car than I do."

Erving and Jackson asked members of the camera crew how old they were in 1985. Answers ranged from four and five to "I wasn't born yet."

It was a surprise and a treat to see Erving highlights in "Reggie." Jackson commented, "When someone says, 'You've got something in common with Dr. J,' you know what I say? That I'm bad!" Erving laughed, and with his typical modesty replied, "You know it's the other way around." Jackson insisted, "No way," and he tried to imitate Erving's famous reverse layup from the 1980 NBA Finals when Erving floated through the air from one side of the hoop to the other, holding the ball aloft over the out of bounds line, before flipping in a sensational shot like it was a routine move. Pro athletes do not tend to gush about other pro athletes--particularly other pro athletes who are from their generation--but I have noticed over the years that Erving is one of the few sports icons who turns even Hall of Famers into gushing little kids.

Erving is an eloquent speaker, and it brought tears to my eyes when he explained his heartfelt feelings about his friendship with Jackson: "The 70's was a good time. In my lifetime, I have had a few special relationships when somebody has extended the hand of friendship, and then after that it's like no strings attached. Maybe there is some divine intervention just saying that you should stay connected with this person, like a second family. I lost my brother and my sister in life, but I have a brother in you. I'm not a big baseball fan, but I'm a Reggie Jackson fan. So nobody can say anything bad about you." Erving paused for a beat, and jokingly added, "No matter how much cause you give them. They can't say nothing bad about you around me."

Erving and Jackson talked about role models who influenced them. Erving noted that Jackie Robinson had a "turn the other cheek" mentality, while Jim Brown represented a "get out of my face" attitude, so athletes had a choice to decide which path to take. Erving and Jackson both emphasized how much they respect Robinson, while also stating that they identified more with Brown's approach. 

Jackson's time with the A's ended after the 1975 season, when Finley refused to pay market value to keep his star-laden team together. Jackson found out that he had been traded to Baltimore by hearing the news on the radio. Erving, who led the New York Nets to two ABA titles in his three seasons with the team, was also traded by an owner (Roy Boe) who was unwilling or unable to pay market value (though Boe's hands were probably more tied than Finley's, as Boe had to pay various costs associated with the ABA-NBA merger, including an indemnification fee to the New York Knicks for being based in the same market).

Jackson played one season for Baltimore before signing with the New York Yankees. He wanted to wear number 42 in honor of Jackie Robinson, but that number was unavailable, so he chose to wear number 44 in honor of Hank Aaron.

To this day, Jackson says that he does not understand why he and Yankees Manager Billy Martin had such a contentious relationship. Jackson respected Martin's scrappy personality. However, Jackson also feels that race and racism impacted Martin's attitude toward him. Jackson believes that Martin initially refused to let him hit cleanup--his natural spot in the batting order--because Martin did not want a Black man to fill that role for the Yankees. Things came to a head when Martin felt that Jackson did not hustle to go after a ball in the outfield, and Martin pulled Jackson from the game in the middle of the inning, a humiliating move that Jackson did not accept blithely. The two men confronted each other in the dugout and had to be separated. Jackson noted that Black baseball players such as Bob Gibson, Hank Aaron, and Frank Robinson were wrongly depicted as angry when in reality they "are hurt. They are disappointed. They are searching for dignity."

Martin eventually put Jackson in the cleanup role. Not surprisingly, Jackson thrived, and the Yankees moved up in the standings, setting the stage for the team's dramatic 1977 run to the World Series title.

There are few images in pro sports as dramatic and dynamic as Reggie Jackson's home run swing. He seemed to corkscrew his legs into the ground as his powerfully muscled torso exploded into the ball and sent it on a one way trip out of the ballpark. Jackson poured every ounce of his mental, emotional, and physical energy into that swing, and the ball fled his bat as if it feared the power he had just unleashed.

Jackson believes that his biggest advantage was that around the 120 game mark of the season everyone else was tired but he was not. During his career, he clearly showed on more than one occasion that he possessed the ability to produce when it mattered the most. "Stat gurus" can insist that the hot hand does not exist and that elevated performance by some players in clutch situations is a myth, but if you have ever played competitive sports and took it seriously then you know better. Reggie Jackson epitomizes clutch play in a way that few athletes in any sport ever have. In team sports, a rare athlete like Reggie Jackson not only elevates his own play when it matters most, but his attitude, approach, and confident demeanor infuse his teammates with confidence. Of course, a player who lacks those traits can infect his teammates with doubt. 

Jackson will forever identify himself and be identified as a Yankee, even though he spent just five seasons with the Bronx Bombers. Yankees owner George Steinbrenner later lamented that letting Jackson leave was his biggest mistake. Jackson continued to be productive for several years after departing New York, but as he approached his 40th birthday he realized that mentally he was not quite where he once had been, and so he knew that it was time to retire.

After retiring, he worked for the Yankees as a special advisor for many years, but he yearned to become a team owner, and he still laments not receiving that opportunity. Jackson candidly admits that he was depressed for a while without even realizing it. Jackson, feeling that his opportunities with the Yankees were limited, joined the Houston Astros, and now serves as a special advisor for that franchise. His love for the game and his eagerness to pass down his knowledge to the current generation of players are palpable.

Bonus film clips accompanying the documentary include brief excerpts from separate conversations that Jackson had with Hank Aaron, Franco Harris, Rick Hendrick, and Bob Kendrick. Aaron, who passed away in 2021, recalled growing up in Mobile, Alabama, and how his mother would call him into the house to hide under the bed when she knew that the Ku Klux Klan was in town. Harris and Jackson talked about the honor and privilege of having your number retired. Hendrick recalled spending a whole day with Jackson at a ceremony when the legendary race car team owner was honored as the car dealer of the year. Jackson had tears in his eyes by the end of that day, and when Hendrick--who had never seen Jackson be that emotional--asked why, Jackson said that at the ceremony he did not see anyone who looked like him. Hendrick said that Jackson's comment made a deep impression on him; afterward, Hendrick developed a leadership academy to mentor people of color to find the individuals best qualified to work in his organization. Hendrick also provided Jackson with the opportunity to own a car dealership in Raleigh, North Carolina. Kendrick took Jackson on a tour of the Negro Leagues Museum, and discussed how the advocacy of Babe Ruth and Ted Williams helped Negro League players receive deserved recognition that they might otherwise have not received from the general baseball community (including the Baseball Hall of Fame).

During the documentary, Jackson admitted to wondering if he has done enough to help his community. It should be noted that Jackson's Mr. October Foundation has worked with thousands of children in underserved communities to provide STEM educational opportunities.

Authentic Home Run King Hank Aaron Passes Away

Hank Aaron, who is baseball's authentic all-time home run king despite what MLB's fraudulent record book says, has passed away at the age of 86. Aaron blasted 756 home runs during his 23 season career, breaking the record of 714 that had long been held by Babe Ruth. Aaron received a lot of racist hate mail as he approached Ruth's record, but Aaron's quiet, firm dignity never wavered. He began his MLB career shortly after Jackie Robinson integrated the sport, and he joined Robinson in not only overcoming racist obstacles placed in his path but also establishing himself as one of the greatest players of all-time. 

In addition to being the authentic home run champion, Aaron holds the official MLB career records for RBIs (2297), total bases (6856), and extra-base hits (1477). He ranks third in career hits (3771), third in career games played (3298), and fourth in career runs scored (2174).

Aaron won the National League MVP in 1957, the same year he led the Milwaukee Braves to a World Series title. He holds the MLB record for most seasons on an All-Star roster (21) and most All-Star Game selections (25); MLB played two All-Star Games during some years, so Aaron actually has more All-Star Game selections than career seasons played, and the only seasons during which he was not selected as an All-Star were his first (1954) and his last (1976). Aaron, a career .305 hitter, won two NL batting titles (1956, 1959), and he ranked in the top five in batting average 11 times.

Although Aaron never had a 50 home run season, he belted at least 40 home runs in eight different campaigns, tied for the second most such seasons all-time behind only Babe Ruth (11). Aaron led the NL in home runs four times (1957, 1963, 1966-67). Remarkably, in addition to his prodigious power hitting he also ranked in the NL's top ten in stolen bases eight times, including second in 1963 with a career high 31. Although he is not primarily known for defense, he earned three Gold Gloves (1958-60).

Aaron was not only consistently productive, but he was remarkably durable, playing in at least 150 games in 14 different seasons. He spent most of his career with the Braves franchise, first in Milwaukee (1954-1965) and then with Atlanta (1966-74), before returning to Milwaukee to spend two years in the American League as a designated hitter for the Brewers.

The biggest sports stars of the 1970s--including Julius Erving, Pete Maravich, Bjorn Borg, Mario Andretti, and Muhammad Ali--will always hold a special place in my heart, and Aaron is inextricably linked to the 1970s, even though his prime years were behind him by that time. I am not quite old enough to remember that fateful night in 1974 when Aaron broke Ruth's home run record, but when I watched Greatest Sports Legends or other vintage sports telecasts as a child I heard Milo Hamilton's famous call: "Here's the pitch by Downing. Swinging. There's a drive into left-center field. That ball is going to be out of here! IT'S GONE! IT'S 715! There's a new home run champion of all-time! And it's Henry Aaron!" That great moment was an early part of my introduction to sports, and an indelible memory.

It is also worth remembering what Vin Scully said at that time to place Aaron's accomplishment in historical perspective: "What a marvelous moment for baseball; what a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia; what a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol. And it is a great moment for all of us, and particularly for Henry Aaron."

Hank Aaron lived the right way, played the right way, and he remains baseball's authentic home run king.

Reggie Jackson Laments How the PED Users Defiled MLB's Record Book

Reggie Jackson ranked sixth on MLB's career home run list with 563 home runs when he retired in 1987 but he has now dropped to 13th--largely because of the influx of PED users, the horde of barbarians at the gate who have defiled and destroyed baseball's once sacred record book. In a recent interview with Keith Olbermann, Jackson agreed with the fans who are justifiably upset and disappointed by how a few unscrupulous, greedy cheaters have caused such great damage to baseball. You can watch the entire interview here:



Here is the specific Jackson quote about PED users and their impact on the game: "I think that my editorial, my response, is the same as everybody's: embarrassed, feel terrible about it. I remember telling stories about it five, six, seven years ago and tears would come into my eyes because I happen to be a baseball fan that was a pretty good player and got to hit home runs as a fan, OK? So the things that Mays and Ruth and Aaron and Koufax and Duke Snider and the great players did, I just thought that they were part of American folklore and I never really wanted them changed. I think that I feel the same as any other fan does."

Steroid Era Has Trashed MLB's Record Book

Major League Baseball's record book should be reshelved in all bookstores and libraries; it belongs squarely in the fiction section. Five of the top 12 home run hitters of all-time--including Barry Bonds, who tops the list with 762--have been implicated in some way as users of performance-enhancing drugs; the latest revelations concern Alex Rodriguez, who reportedly failed a drug test for steroids in 2003. That drug test was part of the anonymous testing that MLB conducted to determine how big a problem performance-enhancing drug use had become in the sport--and 104 players, including Rodriguez and Bonds, flunked a test that they knew was coming.

MLB Commissioner Bud Selig encouraged fans to view Rodriguez as the sport's clean poster boy--in contrast to the disgraced Bonds--but, as Howard Bryant writes, "If Bud Selig did know the individual results, he knew that Bonds' 73 home runs were steroid-tainted, and that in touting Rodriguez to be the player to pass Bonds and restore glory to the home run record, he was willing to replace one steroid-fueled slugger with another, albeit one with a better reputation and nicer smile."

When Hank Aaron became the all-time home run king he was a thick-wristed, wiry strong athlete who was listed at 180 pounds; he was undoubtedly a bit heavier than that by the end of his career but the extra weight had come naturally with age, not in the form of outsized, comic book-hero style bulging muscles fueled by illegal performance enhancing drugs. He and the other old school athletes who did things the right way do not deserve to be surpassed in the record book by liars and cheaters who belong in jail. Steroid cheater Marion Jones was rightly stripped of her tainted medals and MLB should do a similar cleansing of its record book.

Eric Davis: "Like Having an Atomic Bomb Sitting Next to You in the Dugout"

Baseball has never thrilled or excited me the way that some other sports--particularly basketball--do but a handful of great baseball players have captivated me as much as any athletes in any sport and right at the top of that list is the wondrous Eric Davis. In 1986 and 1987 it seemed possible that he might become the greatest all-around baseball player ever. If that statement sounds absurd to you, then check out the words that the equally incomparable Ralph Wiley used to open his May 25, 1987 Sports Illustrated cover story about Davis:

Let's get it straight from the beginning. Eric Davis is not Willie Mays or Henry Aaron or Roberto Clemente. Eric Davis is E. That's it, just E, the single-letter nickname his friends know him by. E's friends are everywhere now, and many of them never saw Mays or Aaron or Clemente. Children who play on scarred inner-city blacktops, manicured suburban lawns and wide-open country fields join E's legions with every sweet, vicious swing of his 32-ounce bat. That's E, as in Everything—which is what the new Cincinnati Reds star has.

"Eric is the one guy who can lead our league in home runs and stolen bases," says Pete Rose, Davis' manager. "Name me another cleanup hitter who can steal 100 bases. Name one. It's like having an atomic bomb sitting next to you in the dugout."

"Eric," says the Reds' six-time All-Star outfielder Dave Parker, "is blessed with world-class speed, great leaping ability, the body to play until he's 42, tremendous bat speed and power, and a throwing arm you wouldn't believe. There's an aura to everything he does. I tell you frankly that I'd pay to see him if I had to."

Everyone who has paid to see Eric Davis lately has gotten his money's worth. As most of America knows, E is off to one of the all-around best starts in National League history. His numbers: .358 average, 15 homers, 36 runs scored, 16 steals, 38 RBIs, and two weeks still remaining in the month of May. But it's the ease with which he has amassed these stats that has astonished older fans and enraptured younger ones. Meanwhile, baseball cognoscenti are left with an inescapable conclusion: To find an appropriate comparison for the soon-to-be 25-year-old outfielder, one must hark back to the '50s and '60s, to Mays and Aaron and Clemente.

Davis was the Swiss Army knife of five-tool players; he had more tools than Home Depot: Davis could hit for average, hit for power, run, field his position with amazing range/stunning grace and throw like he had a bazooka attached to his shoulder. He specialized in using whatever tool was necessary to win a particular game, delivering game winning RBI, game saving catches and game breaking steals with equal aplomb. Wiley noted that after a 2-0 Reds victory over the Mets during which Davis scored a run, stole three bases and robbed Darryl Strawberry of a home run with a catch of which Rose said, "I didn't think Superman could get to that ball," Mays commented, "It's an honor to be compared to Eric Davis. I hope Eric is honored." Aaron declared, "Eric Davis has unlimited ability—awesome ability. I don't think he'll be Willie Mays. That would take some doing. But, on the other hand, I don't think he has a weakness, either."

In that magical summer of 1987, Davis set NL records for grand slams in one month (three in May) and most home runs by the end of May (19). He won the NL Player of the Month Award in April and May. Although injuries limited him to 129 games, he still finished with 37 home runs (fourth in the NL), 100 RBI (eighth), 120 runs scored (third), 50 stolen bases (fourth), a .593 slugging percentage (second) and a .293 batting average. At that time he was just the seventh 30-30 player and he reached those numbers earlier in the season than anyone ever had. Davis was the first 30-50 player in MLB history, a feat later matched by Barry Bonds.

The previous season, Davis put up these gaudy numbers while playing in three more games but with 59 fewer at bats: 27 home runs (fifth in the NL), 71 RBI, 97 runs scored (third), 80 stolen bases (second) and a .523 slugging percentage (which would have ranked second if he had enough at bats to qualify). Davis and Rickey Henderson (who had 28 home runs and 87 stolen bases in 1986) remain the only 25-80 players in MLB history.

It may be hard for younger fans to believe but before Mark McGwire did whatever he does not want to talk about and Barry Bonds (allegedly) used various performance-enhancing drugs to become the not so jolly home run bashing Giant, a 30-plus home run season was quite an accomplishment, because 40 home run seasons were exceptional and 50 home run seasons were very rare. Only one player hit at least 50 home runs in a season between 1965 and 1976 (Willie Mays hit 52 in 1965), while between 1977 (George Foster, 52) and 1990 (Cecil Fielder, 51) no MLB player hit 50 or more home runs in a season; in many of the years between 1965 and 1990, 37 would have been good enough to be a league-leading total and Davis blasted that many home runs in 1987 despite missing a fifth of the season and being a premier base stealer.

Davis won three straight Gold Gloves (1987-89) and in both 1987 and 1989 he made the All-Star Team and won the Silver Slugger Award. He also won the 1989 Home Run Derby. Davis ranked in the top ten in the NL in home runs, slugging percentage and OPS (on base percentage plus slugging) each year from 1986-89. He was not only a prolific base stealer but also a very efficient one: Davis was never caught stealing in high school or in his first year of pro ball and his stolen base percentage of 84.1 ranks second in MLB history behind Tim Raines (84.7) ; Davis' 85.0 NL stolen base percentage is also second behind Raines (85.7).

In 1990, Davis had 24 home runs and 86 RBI for a Reds team that led the NL West wire to wire and then swept the powerful Oakland A's in the World Series. Davis hit a two-run home run in his first World Series at bat to give the Reds a 2-0 first inning lead in game one, setting the tone for a 7-0 victory over the defending World Champions. Davis was not able to celebrate the sweep with his teammates because he suffered a potentially life threatening kidney laceration while diving for a ball in the outfield during game four. He was hospitalized for 11 days. Reds' owner Marge Schott did not even pay for his plane ride back to Cincinnati and after Davis labored through an injury-riddled 1991 season the Reds traded him to the L.A. Dodgers.

Davis continued to struggle with his health and in 1993 the Dodgers traded him to the Detroit Tigers. A disc injury in his neck limited him to just 37 games in 1994 and he retired after that season. However, by 1996 Davis had recuperated sufficiently from his various ailments to attempt a comeback and he was literally a smashing success, blasting 26 home runs and 83 RBI in 129 games for the Reds. He even stole 23 bases. Davis won the NL Comeback Player of the Year Award but did not get along well with Manager Ray Knight and thus decided to sign with Baltimore as a free agent. Davis' Baltimore career hardly began before he was diagnosed with colon cancer. He vowed to return before the end of the season and was true to his word, overcoming surgery and chemotherapy to rejoin the team's lineup in September. Davis hit a ninth inning home run in the Orioles' 4-2 victory in game five of the ALCS but the Cleveland Indians won game six to advance to the World Series. Davis won the Roberto Clemente, Hutch and Tony Conigliaro Awards in 1997, honors that acknowledged his character, fighting spirit and ability to overcome adversity.

Although Davis was no longer a base stealing threat, in 1998 he proved that at 36 years of age he still had a lot of pop left in his bat, ranking fourth in the AL with a career high .327 average while hitting 28 home runs and notching 89 RBI. Davis ranked eighth in on base percentage (.388), ninth in slugging percentage (.582) and 10th in OPS (.970). He also had a 30 game hitting streak that season, setting an Orioles franchise record. Davis finished his career by playing two seasons in St. Louis and one in San Francisco.

We will never know for sure what Davis could have accomplished had he been healthier during his career but he hit at least 20 home runs in eight different seasons and he persevered long enough to amass 282 home runs and 349 stolen bases in 17 MLB seasons.