Time travel *is* possible, but only for sports events
Where are we going first? Which athletes do you want most to see and who is second after Willie Mays?
I have amazing news.
Turns out, Dr. Emmett Brown’s time traveling machine still works. But there’s a catch: you can only use the DeLorean to see old sporting events. Nothing else. And you can’t make any bets.
Wanna go? Of course you wanna go. Where are we going?
I thought about this after the death of Willie Mays. I never saw the Say Hey Kid play in person. I’ve spent hours re-watching old clips and scouring the internet for highlights that I’ve missed.
Part of Mays’ appeal is the mythology of his career. We can watch, and re-watch, his famed catch in the 1954 World Series, his 600th home run, his 3000th hit, and his catch where he leaps over teammate Bobby Bonds. But we can’t see everything.
We have stories and legends and memories. We ask those who did see Mays play. We read the stories about what it was like and savior each word. All that does is make me wish I could see him play even more.
I want to see Mays, in 1951, as a 20-year-old rookie playing center field in the weird dimensions of the Polo Grounds in New York. I want to hear what people are saying about the Say Hey kid and his future.
I want to see Mays, in 1954, in his first year back from military service when he was the Most Valuable Player in baseball. I want to smile at the basket catches and the cap flying off. I want to observe the awe that he elicited as a visiting player from the fans in Brooklyn and Philadelphia.
I want to see Mays, in 1958, in the first year the Giants are in San Francisco, playing at a minor league ballpark named Seals Stadium that was their temporary home, and listen to what the curious locals initially felt about the superstar from New York.
I want to see Mays, in 1965, on the coldest and most miserable night at Candlestick Park, playing a graceful centerfield, impervious to the conditions, and still in his prime as he wins a second MVP award. Don’t worry, we can pack blankets in the DeLorean.
I want to see Mays, in 1971, as a 40-year-old aging superstar, who still led the league in walks and on-base percentage, and behold the respect he garnered from fans in Los Angeles and Cincinnati.
Where else are we going?
I want to see Jackie Robinson play, preferably in 1947, his debut season. I want to sit in the stands and truly experience what it was like for a Black man to make history in a previously all-white sport. I want to be at the game when Pee Wee Reese walked over and put his arm around Robinson in the ultimate show of brotherhood. I want to see Jackie get caught in a rundown and still escape safely.
I want to sit in right field to watch Roberto Clemente throw, I want to sit behind above the first-base dugout to watch Sandy Koufax pitch, I want to sit behind home plate to watch Johnny Bench catch, I want to sit above the third-base dugout to watch Ted Williams hit, and I want to sit in a scaffold wayyyyy above left field at the Houston Astrodome.
I know I want to see Wilt Chamberlain play basketball, preferably in the 1961-62 season, when he averaged 50.4 points and 25.7 rebounds per game. I want to laugh at the absolute domination he exhibited every night. Maybe I pick the game that he scored 100 points and I smuggle a video recorder into the arena so we have actual footage from that night (none currently exists).
I want to watch Curly Neal dribble, Pete Maravich pass, Bill Russell block shots, and Julius Erving take off from the free-throw line.
I want to see Muhammad Ali in the ring, preferably the Thrila in Manila, which Ali famously remarked was the closest he ever experienced death in the ring. I want to see Rocky Balboa take down Ivan Drago on Christmas Night in Moscow.
I want to be part of Arnold Palmer’s army, just a few feet behind him, on fairways and in the rough, marching step-by-step with him for 18 holes. I’m very serious when I say I want to sit right behind the Wimbledon chair umpire in 1981 to hear John McEnroe exclaim, “you CAN NOT be serious.”
I want to see Ken Stabler lead a miracle comeback, perhaps the Sea of Hands game, holding a camera on the field in the corner of the end zone where Clarence Davis made the remarkable catch.
I want to see Jim Brown run over people, Gale Sayers glide around people, and Dick Butkus maul people.
Doc Brown fixed his time machine and we’re going to witness the greatest individual moments in sports history.
I want to see David Thompson score 73 points on the final day of the 1978 season in Detroit as he chased an NBA scoring title, then whip over to New Orlean the same night to see George Gervin, now needing 59 points for the scoring title, pour in 63 points and claim the crown.
Or maybe we watch the most absurd moments.
I want to consume the chaos of Ten Cent Beer Night, Disco Demolition Night, and the Pine Tar Game.
Or maybe we should be focused on the Olympics.
I want to see Jesse Owens embarrass Adolf Hitler’s Germany, Nadia Comaneci on the balance beam, Mark Spitz in the water, Tommie Smith and John Carlos on the medal stand, and of course, the Miracle On Ice.
We’ve only got so much plutonium, so we better choose wisely.
I don’t know our exact itinerary, but I know we’re going to watch the Say Hey Kid first.
A little older than you Josh...so I actually saw Roberto Clemente up close and personally several times first at old Colt Stadium and at the Dome. As a member of the Astros Kids Club...they'd allow members down on the field and you could watch infield and outfield. I saw, at age 11 or 12...an INCREDIBLE throwing display as Clemente took outfield practice(MLB actually did it in those days). I have seen a lot of extremely strong OF arms through the years. No one and I mean NO one comes close to what I saw that day. Once in a lifetime.
Had a chance to see Koufax pitch in Houston at Colt Stadium and the Dome...Again...a lifetime arm. Nice easy delivery then a missile launch...and a true nose-toes curve that few saw and fewer hit.
Saw Jim Brown playing in Dallas against the Cowboys, probably 62 or 63 run roughshod over the Dallas defense. I don't remember how many yards...but for a lot of those he dragged linebackers 5-10 yards, or outran defensive backs. Truly unbelievable.
Time machine takes me back to my first MLB game in July '61, Crosley Field Cincinnati. Lefty Claude Osteen who briefly served as a pitching coach later on in the PCL...vs. Don Drysdale....1:58 minutes, Drysdale won it with his own RBI double late in the game, maybe the 8th inning. A little kid from east Texas seeing his first MLB game, got himself hooked because of that battle, the old, old ballpark that smelled like Hudepohn beer, hot dogs and sweat. Great time machine, my man! Blessings from Austin.