America at Large:At a press conferenceaccompanying his induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame 28 yearsago, Willie Mays was asked to name the best player he'd ever seen."I don't mean to be bashful," he said, "but I was", writesGeorge Kimball.

Willie Howard Mays might not be the only high-school dropout tohave been granted honorary doctorates by two Ivy Leagueuniversities (Yale and Dartmouth), but he is surely the only onewhose name is also included in songs written by Bob Dylan, JohnFogerty, Terry Cashman and Jughead.

Tuesday night's Major League All-Star Game at San Francisco'sAT&T Park turned out to be a virtual Willie Mays love-fest. The76-year-old icon was presented with a 1958-vintage pink CadillacEldorado (the keys were handed over by his infamous godson BarryBonds), and he threw out the ceremonial first pitch - fromcentre-field.

It was a moving occasion, not unlike the night in 1999 when awheelchair-bound Ted Williams made his last Fenway Park appearanceon the eve of the All-Star game. (Come to think of it, I waspacking my bags for Carnoustie that night as well.) It also broughtto mind Williams' observation that "the All-Star game was inventedfor Willie Mays." (Willie played in more of them - 24 - than anyman before or since.) Even Ichiro Suzuki, the Seattle Mariners'star selected Wednesday night's Most Valuable Player, was caught upin the sentimental outpouring.

"To be able to be on the same field as Willie Mays at thatmoment is something I will never forget the rest of my life," saidIchiro through his interpreter. "I know this is impossible, but Iwish I was able to watch Willie Mays play just once."

The odd part is that while Mays played 15 of his 22 seasons inSan Francisco, that city never truly embraced him. Shortly afterthe team relocated to California in 1958, it developed a new,home-grown cast of stars like Orlando Cepeda, Willie McCovey, JuanMarichal and Barry's father, Bobby Bonds.

They were San Francisco Giants. Willie Mays would always beregarded as a New York Giant - both in San Francisco and in NewYork.

He had joined the professional ranks at 15, and after a fewyears toiling in the Negro Leagues was signed by the Giants in1950. By the next year he was in the Giants' line-up, and, apartfrom a season and a half in the army, would remain there for thenext two decades.

He was the on-deck hitter, awaiting his turn at bat, when BobbyThomson hit the improbable "shot heard round the world" to propelthe Giants into the 1951 World Series, and in the 1954 seriesagainst the Indians, his incredible dash culminating in aback-to-the-plate catch of a long blast by Cleveland's Vic Wertzset the stage for a 4-0 Giants' sweep.

During Mays' heyday all three New York teams were blessed withfuture Hall of Fame centrefielders - Mickey Mantle in the Bronxwith the Yankees, Duke Snider in Brooklyn with the Dodgers and Maysin Manhattan with the Giants.

Although partisan fans debated who was best, any objective viewwould concede the top spot to Mays. He was not only the bestdefensive centrefielder in the game, but his 660 career home runsplaced him third on the all-time list behind only Henry Aaron andBabe Ruth. (He would in time be overtaken by Bonds.)

After the Giants and Dodgers relocated, in tandem, to the WestCoast in 1958, outraged New Yorkers vilified both teams (and theirvenal owners), but their love for Mays never abated.

Although his New York manager Leo Durocher said of Mays, "he litup the room when he came in; he was a joy to be around," mostsportswriters did not share that sentiment. Like Ted Williams, Mayscould be, well, difficult.

Although as a kid growing up I saw a lot of him on television, Ididn't personally cover Mays until his last, misbegotten season. Inthe twilight of his career, Giants owner Horace Stoneham hadarranged for his return to New York by dealing him to the Mets, whoimprobably reached the 1973 World Series - the first Fall Classic Iever covered.

Although Willie did get the first hit in that Series, he onlygot one more as the Mets lost in seven games to the Oakland As. Nolonger able to get his bat around on the fastball, he wasembarrassed on several occasions at the plate, and during one gamehe literally fell down chasing a fly ball in the outfield.

"Growing old," he said of the experience, "is a helplesshurt".

A few years later, after he had taken a public relations jobwith the Atlantic City casino, the staff at Bally's Park Placearranged for a one-on-one interview. By then, baseball commissionerBowie Kuhn, skittish about the gambling association, had barredMays (and Mickey Mantle) from involvement in organised baseball.(Both would be reinstated by Kuhn's successor Peter Ueberroth in1985.) It was a terrible interview; Mays seemed obstinate andbitter, but mostly anxious to be somewhere else.

When I returned to Boston wondering how I was going to turn aone-sided conversation into a story, my boss, Bob Sales, laughedknowingly and assured me, "Willie's always been that way".

In Tuesday night's All-Star game, Suzuki became the firstJapanese to win the MVP award after his fifth-inning,inside-the-park home run provided the margin of victory in a 5-4win that once again assured the American League of home-fieldadvantage in this fall's World Series.

Suzuki's all-round skills remind some of Mays in his prime, butafter Ichiro's hit eluded NL outfielder Ken Griffey and he racedaround the bases for the first-ever inside-the-park home run inAll-Star game history, San Jose Mercury columnist Mark Purdy wasmoved to note, "If Willie Mays in his prime had been available tofield the ball Suzuki hit off the wall, Tuesday night's resultmight have been different. The National League might even havewon."