Autobiographies are a complex genre to evaluate, especially those published before the millennium, as these books and their authors tended to stick to straightforward narratives without sharing too much juicy tidbits or controversial analysis. Baseball immortal Willie Mays follows this blueprint in his 1989 book for the most part, with some insightful opinions on his various managers and the advent of free agency thrown in. But simply because a famous person or sporting hero does not give the reader never-before-revealed behind-the-scenes dirt on every other page does not make their autobiography a bad read. (If you desire that, you have just been spoiled by American popular culture and entertainment of the 21st century. Expand your horizons a little).
I greatly enjoyed hearing the story of the Say Hey Kid told by the man himself (albeit with the aid of a ghostwriter). Each and every year of his professional playing career is covered in varying depths of detail. One reason I do prefer biographies over autobiographies is that a third party is better able to put the subject’s accomplishments in perspective and to splash adulation on them without coming across as arrogant and boastful, as if the subject had done themselves in an autobiography. Willie comments a tad on his move up the all-time home run list as his career winds down, but his other gaudy numbers are not appreciated for their true greatness. It makes no difference to this reader that this book is 30 years old and that recent biographies, namely that produced by James S. Hirsch, give Mays’ story the star treatment. These are the thoughts and stories of possibly the greatest baseball player who ever lived, and all should discover and respect this book for what it is.