Link: https://www.sfgate.com/giants/artic...s-legend-dead-at-80-13352886.php?t=60e17e4739
The New York Giants had signed McCovey in 1955. Playing for the San Francisco Giants’ Triple-A team in Phoenix four years later, McCovey was batting .372 with 29 homers and 92 RBIs when he received that late July call-up.
All McCovey did in his debut game at the age of 21 was go 4-for-4 with two triples against future Hall of Famer Robin Roberts as the Giants beat Philadelphia 7-2.
The Chronicle’s Bob Stevens wrote that McCovey, “whom they call ‘Stretch,’ arrived at Seals Stadium just before game time and wound up owning it.”
After the game, McCovey was asked whether there was any difference between Roberts and Pacific Coast League pitchers.
“It didn’t seem so today,” McCovey deadpanned.
Though he played in only 52 games, McCovey was the unanimous choice of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America as the NL Rookie of the Year. He hit .354 with 13 homers and had a 22-game hitting streak.
Two years later, he became a central figure in a moment where the Giants were oh-so-close to winning a World Series title in San Francisco.
The scene: The Yankees owned a 1-0 lead in the ninth inning in Game 7 at Candlestick Park. With two outs, the Giants had Matty Alou at third and Mays at second. Right-hander Ralph Terry was on the mound. McCovey was at the plate.
Stevens’ account in The Chronicle noted, “Yankee manager Ralph Houk had the audacity to permit Terry to pitch” to the left-handed power hitter.
McCovey hit a foul ball on the first pitch. The next pitch, Stevens wrote, “was over the heart of the plate, belt high, and did Willie ever belt it. It rushed out to Richardson as fast as a ball can go from plate to an inner-defense man, and Bobby grasped it, peeking through the webbing of his glove.”
Thus did the New York second baseman snatch a World Series title from the Giants. Two months later, Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts” cartoon captured Giants fans’ sentiments. Schulz had Charlie Brown ask, “Why couldn’t McCovey have hit the ball just three feet higher?”
A month after that, Schulz drew Charlie Brown wondering, “Or why couldn’t McCovey have hit the ball even two feet higher?”
In January 1986, after McCovey had been voted into Cooperstown, he was asked how he’d like to be remembered.
“I’d like to be remembered as the guy who hit the ball over Bobby Richardson’s head in the seventh game,” McCovey responded.
From 1962 through ’64, McCovey and Cepeda alternated between first base and the outfield. Each was more suited to play first. When the Giants traded Cepeda to St. Louis in 1966, the first-base job became McCovey’s for nine seasons.
For the bulk of that time, Mays and McCovey were one of the most formidable 3-4 spots in a batting order in big-league history. Each man knew how much the other meant to him.
In a first-person article in the Examiner in 1980, McCovey said, “I don’t think it is humanly possible for anyone to be a better and more complete player than Willie Mays was. ...
“I saw him do some ... things on a baseball field that no other human being could do.”
One of the subtle things Mays occasionally would do was avoid stretching a single into a double simply so that the opponent wouldn’t intentionally walk McCovey.
McCovey “could hit a ball farther than anyone I ever played with,” Mays said in 1986. “You could talk all day about balls he hit.”
Having teammates talk about you is one thing. Having opponents do so is quite another. At 6-foot-4, McCovey was a towering presence at the plate. He would take a few of his distinctive uppercut practice swings, then be ready to unload on a pitch.
His home runs seemed to go farther, his line drives more vicious than almost anyone’s.
Longtime Cincinnati Reds manager Sparky Anderson would say he feared McCovey more than any other hitter.
“When he belts a home run,” longtime Dodgers manager Walter Alston said, “he does it with such authority, it seems like an act of God. You can’t cry about it.”
“I think it’s fair to say McCovey has never been as highly acclaimed as he deserved,” longtime Dodgers pitcher Don Sutton said in 1986. “He easily was the most feared hitter in the league.”
Claude Osteen, another former L.A. pitcher, said, “He never was going to get cheated on his swings.”
“He used to scare me the most when I was playing first base,” said Joe Torre, who spent the bulk of his playing career as a catcher. “I was just praying he wouldn’t hit one down the line. He was one of the most awesome players I’ve ever seen.”
One of Torre’s St. Louis teammates, pitcher Bob Gibson, said, “McCovey swung harder than anyone I ever saw. Most guys who swung that hard would miss the ball, but he didn’t.”
Pitcher Roger Craig, who would manage the Giants for seven-plus seasons (1985-92), recalled a time his manager with the Mets, Casey Stengel, went to the mound with McCovey at the plate.
“Where do you want to pitch him?” Stengel asked Craig. “Upper deck or lower deck?”
McCovey’s top individual season was 1969. He batted .320 and led the National League in home runs (45) and RBIs (126). McCovey had the distinction of winning the Most Valuable Player Award in the All-Star Game (he homered twice in the NL’s 9-3 win in Washington) and for the National League.
McCovey decided in late June (1980) to retire, effective at the All-Star break.
On July 6 at Dodger Stadium, in his last big-league plate appearance, his pinch-hit sacrifice fly in the eighth inning helped the Giants to a 7-4, 10-inning victory.
The Los Angeles fans gave McCovey a proper send-off after the sacrifice fly. As The Chronicle’s Bruce Jenkins wrote, “McCovey was called back by a deafening ovation, and he was clearly moved. With a huge smile on his face, he raised his hands high, then made a sweeping bow.”
GL
The New York Giants had signed McCovey in 1955. Playing for the San Francisco Giants’ Triple-A team in Phoenix four years later, McCovey was batting .372 with 29 homers and 92 RBIs when he received that late July call-up.
All McCovey did in his debut game at the age of 21 was go 4-for-4 with two triples against future Hall of Famer Robin Roberts as the Giants beat Philadelphia 7-2.
The Chronicle’s Bob Stevens wrote that McCovey, “whom they call ‘Stretch,’ arrived at Seals Stadium just before game time and wound up owning it.”
After the game, McCovey was asked whether there was any difference between Roberts and Pacific Coast League pitchers.
“It didn’t seem so today,” McCovey deadpanned.
Though he played in only 52 games, McCovey was the unanimous choice of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America as the NL Rookie of the Year. He hit .354 with 13 homers and had a 22-game hitting streak.
Two years later, he became a central figure in a moment where the Giants were oh-so-close to winning a World Series title in San Francisco.
The scene: The Yankees owned a 1-0 lead in the ninth inning in Game 7 at Candlestick Park. With two outs, the Giants had Matty Alou at third and Mays at second. Right-hander Ralph Terry was on the mound. McCovey was at the plate.
Stevens’ account in The Chronicle noted, “Yankee manager Ralph Houk had the audacity to permit Terry to pitch” to the left-handed power hitter.
McCovey hit a foul ball on the first pitch. The next pitch, Stevens wrote, “was over the heart of the plate, belt high, and did Willie ever belt it. It rushed out to Richardson as fast as a ball can go from plate to an inner-defense man, and Bobby grasped it, peeking through the webbing of his glove.”
Thus did the New York second baseman snatch a World Series title from the Giants. Two months later, Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts” cartoon captured Giants fans’ sentiments. Schulz had Charlie Brown ask, “Why couldn’t McCovey have hit the ball just three feet higher?”
A month after that, Schulz drew Charlie Brown wondering, “Or why couldn’t McCovey have hit the ball even two feet higher?”
In January 1986, after McCovey had been voted into Cooperstown, he was asked how he’d like to be remembered.
“I’d like to be remembered as the guy who hit the ball over Bobby Richardson’s head in the seventh game,” McCovey responded.
From 1962 through ’64, McCovey and Cepeda alternated between first base and the outfield. Each was more suited to play first. When the Giants traded Cepeda to St. Louis in 1966, the first-base job became McCovey’s for nine seasons.
For the bulk of that time, Mays and McCovey were one of the most formidable 3-4 spots in a batting order in big-league history. Each man knew how much the other meant to him.
In a first-person article in the Examiner in 1980, McCovey said, “I don’t think it is humanly possible for anyone to be a better and more complete player than Willie Mays was. ...
“I saw him do some ... things on a baseball field that no other human being could do.”
One of the subtle things Mays occasionally would do was avoid stretching a single into a double simply so that the opponent wouldn’t intentionally walk McCovey.
McCovey “could hit a ball farther than anyone I ever played with,” Mays said in 1986. “You could talk all day about balls he hit.”
Having teammates talk about you is one thing. Having opponents do so is quite another. At 6-foot-4, McCovey was a towering presence at the plate. He would take a few of his distinctive uppercut practice swings, then be ready to unload on a pitch.
His home runs seemed to go farther, his line drives more vicious than almost anyone’s.
Longtime Cincinnati Reds manager Sparky Anderson would say he feared McCovey more than any other hitter.
“When he belts a home run,” longtime Dodgers manager Walter Alston said, “he does it with such authority, it seems like an act of God. You can’t cry about it.”
“I think it’s fair to say McCovey has never been as highly acclaimed as he deserved,” longtime Dodgers pitcher Don Sutton said in 1986. “He easily was the most feared hitter in the league.”
Claude Osteen, another former L.A. pitcher, said, “He never was going to get cheated on his swings.”
“He used to scare me the most when I was playing first base,” said Joe Torre, who spent the bulk of his playing career as a catcher. “I was just praying he wouldn’t hit one down the line. He was one of the most awesome players I’ve ever seen.”
One of Torre’s St. Louis teammates, pitcher Bob Gibson, said, “McCovey swung harder than anyone I ever saw. Most guys who swung that hard would miss the ball, but he didn’t.”
Pitcher Roger Craig, who would manage the Giants for seven-plus seasons (1985-92), recalled a time his manager with the Mets, Casey Stengel, went to the mound with McCovey at the plate.
“Where do you want to pitch him?” Stengel asked Craig. “Upper deck or lower deck?”
McCovey’s top individual season was 1969. He batted .320 and led the National League in home runs (45) and RBIs (126). McCovey had the distinction of winning the Most Valuable Player Award in the All-Star Game (he homered twice in the NL’s 9-3 win in Washington) and for the National League.
McCovey decided in late June (1980) to retire, effective at the All-Star break.
On July 6 at Dodger Stadium, in his last big-league plate appearance, his pinch-hit sacrifice fly in the eighth inning helped the Giants to a 7-4, 10-inning victory.
The Los Angeles fans gave McCovey a proper send-off after the sacrifice fly. As The Chronicle’s Bruce Jenkins wrote, “McCovey was called back by a deafening ovation, and he was clearly moved. With a huge smile on his face, he raised his hands high, then made a sweeping bow.”
GL
