Each generation of sports enthusiasts has its own gods or near-gods. The vast majority of them have extensive video collections that demonstrate their effect as athletes and coaches, brand ambassadors and campaigners, inventors and leaders. Say Hey, Willie Mays!, HBO Sports’ most recent documentary, captures what made the legendary Giants outfielder more than a ballplayer, even if that’s how he still wants to identify himself. The film has the endorsement of the man himself.
As the opening titles play, a black-and-white film of our topic appears on the screen. He is standing at home plate and launching a baseball over the left field fence. This is followed by another (this time in color) highlight of the same player holding a ball in the outfield before lightly throwing it back into the infield. In the colorful image, the camera rises from his feet to his torso, giving us a full view of the player (Mays) in his road outfit with ‘SAN FRANCISCO’ written across his chest and the iconic interlocking orange ‘SF’ on his black cap. In the next shot, as we see a photo of Mays wearing the white home uniform of the New York Mets with pinstripes, we hear several voices describing Mays’ on-field exploits and stardom, which are reflected in several clips of his play interspersed with those of other athletes such as Michael Jordan and Muhammad Ali.
A room (perhaps a living room or an office) appears, and in the center is an orange leather chair with the phrases “Say Hey!” and “24” sewn on it. As more images and videos are displayed, Mays and a lady (an assistant or relative?) arrive in the background, and he ultimately makes his way to the recliner. The audio has transitioned from a discussion of Mays’ on-field performance to his stance on race and racism. Several footage of civil rights marches are also shown, probably as a contrast to Mays’ reticence to make public pronouncements about these causes; nonetheless, a photograph of him shaking hands with the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is displayed.
The elder Mays, now wearing a San Francisco Giants jacket and cap, takes a seat, and we see further details on the chamber, including plaques, portraits, and handmade clocks with his likeness. Now focusing on the present, a disembodied voice (director Nelson George) asks Mays whether he is the greatest baseball player of all time.
A close-up of Mays’ face reveals his clenched jaw, grey eyes, and maybe a tinge of cynicism in response to the query. However, the film’s title credit comes before the spectator receives an answer, creating suspense.
For those old enough to have witnessed Mays as an active player, Say Hey takes a trip down memory lane with more than just clips of his on-field greatness, but also who he was outside of baseball. Over the course of two days in 2021, George sat down with the 91-year-old baseball legend to discuss his childhood in Alabama, his adolescence in the last vestiges of the Negro Leagues and baseball-crazed New York City in the 1950s, and his eventual adoption of San Francisco upon the Giants’ relocation. Say Hey is a 90-minute tribute to the icon that features archival film – including a great modern-day analysis of Mays’ spectacular grab in the 1954 World Series – and interviews with former teammates and close confidants. George sought inventive ways to explain Mays’ unwillingness to speak out on social issues, both throughout his playing career and in the documentary itself, as a subtle reply to those who insist sportsmen speak out on social issues.
What Documentaries Does It Remind You Of? : In a look back at someone’s life, there will be a formula to follow, and few firms, save Netflix, have mastered the craft as well as HBO. It will feel like every other documentary about a single athlete that they have produced. And because this is a retrospective of an icon from the 1950s through the early 1970s, it will remind you of an older ESPN series, SportsCentury, which included dozens of tales about sportsmen from that era.
Nonetheless, the substance of those presented is more essential than the manner. Say Hey is what is likely the first long interview with Barry Bonds, the seven-time National League Most Valuable Player and baseball’s career home run leader, since his own retirement in 2007. Mays was a colleague of Bonds in the 1960s, and despite the fact that Mays is Barry’s godfather, it is difficult not to view Mays as Barry’s surrogate parent as well.
Say Hey portrays the liveliness of Mays’ career rather well, since it depicts a life that is still being lived with such vitality. George stated why he opted to accentuate the idea of mentorship in his interview with Decider, and that thread is there at every step – from Willie Mays’ brief but spectacular stint in Birmingham in the Negro Leagues to what can be defined as Barry Bonds’ ongoing surrogate parenting. Yet, Say Hey did not go too thoroughly into Mays’ post-playing career, which includes a lengthy suspension from baseball (together with the late Mickey Mantle) for accepting a job with an Atlantic City casino while intending to stay a coach with the New York Mets. As a result of Mays’s absence from the film’s topic of race, the documentary feels somewhat incomplete.
There is also the question of whether the presence of Barry Bonds detracts from the topic of Mays. In this writer’s perspective, it is not at all a distraction, as it is hard to discuss Mays’ life without mentioning the profound link between the two men.
Skin and Sexuality: None.
How frequently does the leaving shot refer back to the opening scene?!
George asks Willie Mays, “Is Willie Mays the greatest baseball player of all time?” and George responds. As he reclines in his recliner, he adds, “Nope. “I never do that.” If not you, then who? George asks in response. Mays responds, “I’m not sure. That is not my responsibility, so I will defer to others to answer. Mays elaborates on this argument by noting that he did not play the game for the plaudits and adulation. As he speaks, another montage of highlights plays. The final image is of the statue honoring him in Oracle Park in San Francisco. As the camera pans to the statue’s face, Mays states, “Not only did I play baseball for the people, but they also appreciate what I did.”
A number of Mays’ old colleagues and contemporaries, including Orlando Cepeda, Juan Marichal, and Reggie Jackson, are featured in the film. Barry Bonds’s towering presence makes it nearly difficult to employ the word “sleeper.” And you’ll shed a tear when the late Vin Scully, who died in 2021, makes a brief appearance. Yet the standout interviews are conducted by Mays’s old colleague in San Francisco, Tito Fuentes. Fuentes adds humor by describing in vivid detail a prank Mays used to play on him. Yet he also provides background for the racial issue around Mays by recounting a clubhouse dispute he had with Giants manager Alvin Dark, who was thought to be prejudiced against Latin baseball players. Baseball has changed little over time, as demonstrated by Fuentes’ comments. Whether it was joking among the lads or the sting of prejudice, little has changed.
Our Request: STREAM IT! Mays has always received flowers, especially from those old enough to have witnessed his field brilliance. When you are referred to as “the greatest living player” five decades after your last at-bat, you will never lack admirers. Yet millions of Americans have mostly understood him through the sepia or black-and-white lenses of the Silent and Boomer eras. Even if there is an entire history of his life, sports and its players are not widely read. This author suggests James S. Hirsch’s 2010 biography Willie Mays: The Life and the Legend for further information. Mays was not only a baseball player, but also a cultural phenomenon. Say Hey is a proper visual time capsule for those of us who did not see his transformation in real life.
Jason Clinkscales is the founder and chief editor of The Whole Game, and his writing has appeared in Awful Announcing, The Week, and Dime Magazine. A native of New York City, he formerly worked as a media research analyst for television networks and advertising firms.