Free Willie & Me by Dan Gutman Page A

you!”
    â€œWho did this to you?” the guy asked.
    â€œLeo Durocher,” I told him. “And Stanky. And Maglie. They brought me here and tied me up.”
    â€œThat wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” he said as he started working on the knots that were binding myhands. “I’m sure Mr. Leo must have mistaken you for somebody else. He’s a good man at heart. I’m going to talk to him about this. Yes sirree. He shouldn’t be doing this to people. That’s just not right.”
    â€œOh, don’t talk to him!” I said urgently. “If you could just let me out of here, I’d be so grateful. I can’t thank you enough.”
    â€œNo problem,” he said. He untied the last knot that was holding my right wrist down. It was such a relief to be able to lift my arm off the chair.
    â€œWho are you?” I asked him. “The bat boy?”
    â€œNo sir,” he said, laughing a little. “I play ball for the Giants. You probably haven’t heard of me. My name is Willie Mays.”

    Willie Mays

    Wait a minute. What? For a moment, I thought I heard him wrong. Willie Mays? The Willie Mays?
    I studied his face more closely as he worked on my other wrist. It was Willie Mays!
    The great Willie Mays—very possibly the best all-around player in the history of the game—was on his knees in front of me, untying the ropes that held me to the chair. I couldn’t believe it.
    I knew all about Willie Mays, of course. What baseball fan didn’t know his name? I had just about memorized his whole career. He hit 660 home runs. He was the National League MVP in 1954 and 1965. He also won twelve Gold Glove Awards, in a row . He was a Hall of Famer—a five-tool player, as they call the ones who can do it all. And most people don’t know this fact about Willie Mays—he was the only player in history to hit four home runs in a game and three triples in a game. You could look it up.

    Most of the pictures I had seen of Mays showed him when he was older, as an established star or a retired player. I thought of him as an old man. But in 1951,I realized, Willie was in his rookie season. His career was just getting started. He looked so young, more boy than man.
    Willie’s forehead was sweating while he worked on freeing me from the ropes. Finally, he got the last knot loosened and I was able to stand up. Willie tossed all the rope off to the side. He shook my hand and I didn’t want to let it go. I thanked him over and over again.
    The door was open, and Durocher and his boys could come back at any minute. The smart thing to do would be to run out of there. But I was still in awe of the fact that I was in the presence of the great Willie Mays, before he was great. It was tempting to ask him for an autograph, but I didn’t have a pencil or paper on me.
    â€œIs the game over?” I asked him. “Did the Giants win the pennant?”
    â€œThe game didn’t start yet,” Willie told me. “I just came in here to think for a few minutes.”
    â€œThink?” I asked him. “Think about what?”
    Willie sighed and sat on the chair I had been tied to.
    â€œStuff,” he said. “The game. The pitcher. What I’m gonna do. I just needed to be by myself for a while. To clear my head, y’know? I come in here sometimes. Usually nobody’s around.”
    Willie looked nervous and afraid. I actually thought he might break down in tears. I didn’t know if I should leave him there.
    â€œAre you gonna be okay?” I asked him.
    â€œThis is the biggest game of my life,” he said, in a whisper. “Somebody’s gonna win the pennant today. Somebody’s gonna lose. And somebody’s gonna get the blame. I just don’t want to mess up in front of all those people. It’s gonna be on TV coast-to-coast, y’know.”
    â€œYou’re going to be great,” I told him, which was an