The Bay Area lost a son, father, friend and hero on Tuesday when Willie Mays died at age 93.
As with any loss, it mourns. Grieving Giants fans turned Willie Mays Plaza into a tribute. By Wednesday morning, his statue outside Oracle Park had collected dozens of flower bouquets — mostly orange roses — Mays baseball cards, peanuts, balloons, candles, notes, signed balls and hats.
The Giants are opening up Oracle Park Thursday to honor Mays during San Francisco’s game at Rickwood Field, the Hall of Famer’s first professional ballpark. But this tribute wasn’t planned.
“It was organic,” said Joey Bernal, a Dogpatch resident who dropped off flowers and planned to return with his son later.
“I think it just shows a reflection of him as a person,” said Bernal’s wife, Mariel.
Scores of fans stopped by 24 Willie Mays Plaza on Wednesday to pay their respects and celebrate Mays’ singular life. They dropped off mementos, shared stories and took pictures.
Losing a titan like Mays generated more than memorializing from mere humans Mays inspired. Shortly after noon, the crowd noticed a rainbow formed over Mays’ statue high above the China Basin.
“It’s almost like a halo,” an onlooker said.
It was the universe paying tribute just like so many others who spent time around Mays’ statue.
A firefighter exited her fire truck to rub Mays’ bat and leave a bouquet of sunflowers. One man stood behind the statue and placed his cap on his heart as a sign of respect.
Omar Moore, a podcaster and lifelong Mays admirer, shared details of Mays’ life with anyone who asked. He discussed the horrible racism Mays endured, his civil rights activism, his time serving in the Korean War, his baseball career, his legacy in San Francisco.
“He means so much to me because he is someone who’s larger than the game of baseball,” said Moore, who has lived in San Francisco for the past 19 years.
“He’s someone who I identify with as someone who struggles every day to deal with racism in the country,” Moore said. “This man, here in San Francisco, as I am in San Francisco, dealt with that. It doesn’t matter where you are as a Black man in this country, you will feel this every day. And because he also prospered amidst all that. He excelled to the levels of brilliance and excellence as we, as Black people, do. When we’re put on a level playing field, we show that we not only belong, but we dominate the sport, dominate whatever it is.”
Moore, donning an authentic Mays jersey, noted that Mays inspired millions and mentored generations of ballplayers. As one of the first Black MLB players, he helped make it possible for Black Americans to succeed in institutions and society prejudiced against them.
That the tribute happened on Juneteenth — the holiday commemorating the official end of slavery in the U.S. — and a day before the Giants’ Rickwood game wasn’t lost on many at Mays’ shrine.
“All the African American kids, he gave them pride,” said Tommy Hampton, 72.
Hampton moved to the Bay Area with his family when he was six years old in 1958 — the same year Mays and the Giants arrived in San Francisco. He watched Mays, his idol, play at Candlestick Park and listened to games on his transistor radio. In both second and fifth grade, Hampton remembers, he did book reports on Mays in school.
Hampton and his wife, Tina, didn’t bring any flowers to the statue but the lifelong Giants fans came to purchase a No. 24 Mays jersey from the team store.
“He’s a childhood hero,” Hampton said. “He’s the reason I like baseball. For a little Black kid, he was a hero.”
A hero for Hampton and for so many others.
“You’re never going to see the likes of him again,” Moore said. “He transcends the sport. He’s a cultural icon, and he means so much to me as a Black man. And I’d say he means so much to Black people in general because of what he did. A lot of people sit on his shoulders today.”
