Redlands Connection is a concoction of sports memories emanating from a city that once numbered less than 20,000 people. From the Super Bowl to the World Series, from the World Cup to golf’s U.S. Open and the Olympics, plus NCAA Final Four connections, NASCAR, the Kentucky Derby and Indianapolis 500, Tour de France cycling, major tennis, NBA and a little NHL, aquatics and quite a bit more, the sparkling little city that sits around halfway between Los Angeles and Palm Springs on Interstate 10 has its share of sports connections. I tracked down on of those baseball names in a well-known musical song. – Obrey Brown
Talkin’ baseball. Terry Cashman. His song, released in 1981, seemed to summarize a special part of baseball. A musical contribution to baseball history. It surrounded the great center fielders in three New York boroughs – the Bronx, Brooklyn and Manhattan.
Cashman wrote about … “Willlieeeeee … Mickey … and The Duke.”
Duke Snider came to Redlands.
Mickey Mantle came to … well, as far as anyone knows, he didn’t come to Redlands. But his longtime friend, Billy Martin, showed up here at least once.
Then there was Willie Mays. I can’t honestly say that the “Say Hey Kid” ever set foot on Redlands soil. But me, a sports editor from Redlands, took part in a rare discussion that probably never came up in baseball circles.
It would’ve made a nice little change in Cashman’s song, “Willie … Almost Mickey … and the Duke …”
Say, hey!
Say, hey!
Say, hey!
It was in the early 1980s, 1983 I’m thinking. Bob Hope Desert Classic. Deep in the heart of Coachella Valley. Willie Mays, a golf lover, was playing in that tournament’s celebrity Pro-Am, along with plenty of others from music, film and sports — you name it.
There we were, sitting and eating in that VIP tent. Food was being served. Willie played his round. I was covering a story, or two, taking a break. Other than a serving staff, no one else seemed to be around at Tamarisk Country Club.
Sitting at a table near him, I could just feel my chance. I grew up in the Bay Area. watching Willie play during his career twilight days in the late 1960s.
What should I ask him? Finally, I came up with something out of sheer desperation.
“Willie,” I said, “tell me something about your career that didn’t get much attention.”
Honestly, I didn’t expect an answer. He responded with a single sentence, nothing more. In sports, you often run into replies like that. In a clubhouse. In a locker room. On a field or court. Willie had probably been approached by handfuls of media guys looking for something – stories, opinions, recollections, quotes, you name it.
He wouldn’t be talking – at least to me. That’s what I figured. It’s okay. I tried. No big deal.
Suddenly, out of the blue, Willie blurted, “We almost got Koufax.”
Huh? What? Say that again!
Yeah, he said it. A year, or two before Dodger southpaw Sandy Koufax really hit his Hall of Fame stride, this fireballing southpaw was stewing about how that Dodgers’ team were using him.
Translation: Or not using him.
This took place in Willie’s San Francisco presence – likely at Seals Stadium – when Koufax approached team general manager Buzzie Bavasi to request a trade. Willie shared this with me in Rancho Mirage.
Said Willie: “He told Bavasi, ‘you’re not using me. Why even keep me? It’s better to let me go. Trade me somewhere so I can pitch.’ ”
Willie said he jumped right into that discussion. “Trade him to the Giants,” he remembers telling Bavasi. “Trade him to us.”
Folks, Willie was telling me this story a little over 20 years after that chat. Of all stories to pick after spending 1951 through 1973 in baseball.
There was some discussion. Wow! The Giants’ star player was discussing a trade with the GM of their chief rival, the Dodgers.
Willie said he was told by Bavasi to tell Horace Stoneham, the Giants’ owner who made all San Francisco deals.
“Did you do it?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I talked to Mr. Stoneham. Didn’t hear much about it for a while.”
Willie, meanwhile, was chewing his food. Some guys were entering that VIP tent. Hoping that it wasn’t people looking for Willie – which would interrupt our chat – I prodded him a little.
“Any discussions take place about Koufax going to the Giants?”
Willie nodded again. He was chewing. Swallowing. Didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to answer.
Finally, he said, “They wanted Cepeda.”
Orlando Cepeda, one of baseball’s younger star sluggers, was a San Francisco favorite. He was an established star.
Koufax had yet to reach a portion of his career that would get everyone’s attention. At that time, Cepeda-for-Koufax might not have seemed logical for San Francisco.
Cepeda was 1958 Rookie of the Year, already establishing a huge career.
Koufax? His earned run average was around 4.00, or higher, over his previous seasons.
Cepeda for Koufax? Straight up?
Koufax had a little success in his early years, but had yet to reach his consistently Hall of Fame stride. In his mind, apparently, the Dodgers weren’t treating him respectfully.
By 1961, through his final season in 1966, Koufax was unhittable, unforgettable and, evidently, untradeable.
I summarized this for Willie.
“Are you telling me that you guys almost had Sandy Koufax, Juan Marichal and Gaylord Perry on the same pitching staff?” Perry was still a season, or two, away from San Francisco.
Willie didn’t answer. Just kept chewing. I wasn’t all that much of an interest to him. At that moment, though, I was sitting near him enough to chat about this remarkable trade possibility.
“How close do you think this came to happening?”
I should mention this: During our entire chat, Willie never really looked at me. Maybe an occasional glance. Didn’t have to look at me, though. This was more than I’d bargained for.
At that point, more people started entering this VIP center. Food was being served. Willie acknowledged people he’d played golf with that day. My time with him was apparently over.
It was exciting, to say the least. I was practically finished with my sandwich and potato salad. I was nursing my drink when Willie got up to leave. My heart kind of sank. I’d have really liked to get more conversation with him.
I watched him shake hands with a few guys.
“Nice to see you again, Willie.”
“Thanks, Willie.”
“Let’s get together soon, Willie.”
You know, typical sendoff lines.
Willie was leaving. He’d walk right behind where I was sitting. When he walked past me, he said into my good ear (I only hear out of one ear), “Stoneham would’ve never traded Cepeda.”
One-third of that Cashman song – done.
Funny thing, though, was in 1966. Cepeda was traded to St. Louis for southpaw Ray Sadecki. Koufax would retire following that season. At least Sadecki had won 20 games a couple years earlier. He was nothing like Koufax.
Part 2 of Willie … Almost Mickey … and The Duke next week.
