RIKERS ISLAND, NY – The recent death of the great Willie Mays brought back memories for me of his Rikers Island visit. It was 1984 when The Say Hey Kid made a trip to the Island of Society’s Misfits. He came to visit an acquaintance who was imprisoned, and everyone was starstruck. Mays didn’t come empty-handed. He arrived with three boxes of baseballs signed by himself. He handed the balls out to the incarcerated inmates he came across in the visiting area.
Mays made these inmates feel like they were glad to be behind bars, at least for that moment. The buzz of Mays visit was felt throughout the North Infirmary Command, which housed everything from muggers to murderers.
Later that night everything in the jailhouse was back to normal. Inmates waited their turn to use the phone… and waited… and waited. These menaces to society would show no courtesy as they hogged the phone in the dorm-like setting. One inmate took exception to his waiting, as his blood pressure rose.
The dam within him finally exploded as that inmate ran to retrieve his Mays signed baseball, which was placed under his pillow. He fired the ball towards the inmate who was on the phone and promptly missed. The ball hit the wall as a loud boom echoed thru the dorm. All of a sudden, the other inmates grabbed their Mays ball and decided to show off their velocities.
Balls were flying all over the place as everyone ducked for cover. The 6th floor dorm turned into a Shea Stadium bullpen, as everyone decided to show off their fastballs.
When the calm finally settled, it was decided by my fellow correction officers that baseballs were now classified as weapons. They were taken away and placed on lock-down into the inmate’s personal property of items that were banned within these walls.
Without even knowing it, the great Willie Mays was guilty of promoting contraband behind the bars of Rikers Island. The prison complex was just a tape measure home run away from Mays last home ballpark, where he played centerfield for the N.Y. Mets.
One of Mays most famous quotes was, “Baseball is a game, yes. It is also a business. But what it most truly is, it’s disguised combat. For all its gentility, its almost leisurely pace, baseball is violence under wraps.”
Mays words were right on the money and should have been engraved onto a plaque. The plaque should have been placed right by that 6th floor dorm, where mayhem took place on the night of Mays’ visit.
Rest In Peace, Mr. Mays. You were a gangsta on the field and a gangsta during a jailhouse visit.
