The Under 700 Club: Willie Mays and the Say-Hey Kid (1972)
Say hey! I'd do anything, anything, only if I could get that ball.
The Under 700 Club: Reviews in under 700 words for movies with less than 700 logs on Letterboxd (log count as of this publication: 11)
A week ago today, we lost the greatest ballplayer to ever step on a baseball field.
After a well-used 93 years, Willie Mays left behind a legacy of phenomenal ball, a packed trophy case, and a nickname, the Say Hey Kid, that stayed with him long past any age that someone could be called "kid" - despite that charming, youthful, full-faced smile he carried.
There's a Tallulah Bankhead quote that I've seen around a handful of times since his passing, from baseball poet laureate
’s beautiful obituary to the living breathing memorial of the Rickwood Field game, that I just had to pass on:“There have only been two geniuses in the world — Willie Mays and Willie Shakespeare."
As both a devout Shakespearean and a stern believer that only Shohei Ohtani has a chance of taking Willie's title of Greatest of All Time, I can't help but agree.
If only the two had collaborated...
Despite his sporting world celebrity status, you may be surprised to hear that Willie didn't make a ton of film or television appearances. The 2022 documentary Say Hey, Willie Mays! cites a 1965 episode of The Donna Reed Show as his most memorable pop culture appearance, largely because his blackness, a rarity in '60s television, didn't seem to be a problem only because, well, he was Willie Mays. Otherwise, his IMDB page is just a string of documentaries and credits billing "as himself."
And there's no movie about Willie either.
Jackie got a few. Babe got a few. Ty Cobb got a movie. Monty Stratton got a movie. Hell, even goofy ass Spaceman Lee got a movie.
Willie got "Willie Mays and the Say-Hey Kid", a 1972 television special and one of ABC's Saturday Superstar Movies.
These Saturday morning cartoons included episodes called "The Brady Kids on Mysterious Island," "Popeye Meets the Man Who Hated Laughter," and "Daffy Duck and Porky Pig Meet the Groovie Goolies." As you can tell from the titles alone, they were quite silly, the superstars were often cartoon characters, and calling them "movies" is generous (but thank God they did because I can include this "movie" in this column!)
The plot is pretty simple: Willie voices himself, the 24-wearing superstar centerfielder. In exchange for some help winning the National League Pennant, Willie makes a deal with a guardian angel (it’s just like Angels in the Outfield) to be the godfather of a young orphan girl named Veronica. I know it's a cartoon, but this doesn't make sense for a variety of reasons.
First, Willie didn't need any help playing the game of baseball. Sure, by 1972 he was 41 years old and not the same guy he was over the past two or so decades, but he was still Willie Mays. The guy who ended his career with 660 home runs. 3,293 hits. 24 All Star appearances, 12 Gold Gloves, and two NL MVP awards. A guy with a catch so famous, they still call it The capital-t capital-c Catch. He didn't need magic. He was already magic.
Also, the little girl does cause some trouble in his life (she turns off his alarm and he almost misses the big game!), but is that really a soul-selling punishment? Three years earlier, he told Bobby Bonds that he would be the godfather to his son Barry. Surely he could've helped one more kid out.
Finally, why is it called "Willie Mays and the Say-Hey Kid" if he was the Say Hey Kid? And just for the record, ABC, there's no dash in Say Hey, either.
But I suppose that's Rankin/Bass for you. The company best known for their stop-motion holiday offerings (Rudolph, Little Drummer Boy, Peter Cottontail) only seemed to gather up that same magic in traditional animation for one special, Frosty the Snowman. Otherwise, it was stuff like this and The Hobbit.
That is a bit of a surprise because it was written by Romeo Muller, the screenwriter behind all those previously mentioned great titles and so many more beloved specials. Even he couldn't make this one work.
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Rest in peace, Willie. Thanks for everything.
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