Another February is over, the end of another Black History Month and this weekend's beginning of another Spring Training made me think of trying another portrait in Mudbox, Willie Mays, the greatest Baseball player that ever lived.
I recently found myself in the West Portal District, where I lived when I first moved to San Francisco and I remembered at that time Mr. Mays, who now has a statue in front of AT&T Park, was trying to buy a house in nearby St. Francis Woods. The Neighborhood Association (or whatever they called themselves) was doing their level best to keep him out. Not the racist south of the 1950's, but liberal S. F. of the '70's. Bad for property values, you know.
I used to see him in the local shops. I did not hesitate to greet the other Giants I saw on the street back then, Bobby Bonds or Orlando Cepeda, but I would never have dreamed of approaching Mr. Mays, he always looked really pissed off. Damn straight.
